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Hall of the Khans, Warrior Quarter

Strana Mechty

Kerensky Cluster, Clan Space

2 October 3000

The star around which the home world of the Clans spun was low in the sky as its light lit up the western side of the Hall of the Khans. The
gothic architecture of the centre of their government was not of concern to the two warriors sitting on a simple stone bench that provided the only seating on
the balcony they occupied. The Hall had many private nooks such as this one - intentionally so since it provided for the private meetings and discussions that
would frame the debates that periodically rocked the Grand Council's chamber.

Gerik N'Buta's jacket, almost seamless black leather that closely resembled snakeskin, lay on the bench next to him and he could feel
the warmth of the stone behind him through his thin white shirt. The Khan of Clan Star Adder was short for a mechwarrior, but his skin had an almost ebon black
hue that was rare among the ethnic mix that had produced his sibkho, rare but highly prized by the N'Buta bloodline as that sported by their founder. His
colleague, Kershaw Lahiri was smaller too, with the slightly disproportionate head that marked him as a product of one of the lineages focused upon producing
pilots for the Clans aerospace fighters.

"Kerlin's proposal is a good one, quiaff?" Kershaw observed. "Foresightful as a Kerensky, for all that he is a
Ward."

"Aff," his elder agreed. "Wise, to see that our intelligence services lack the data necessary to truly evaluate the situation
within the Inner Sphere. Foresightful, to delay we Crusaders the chance to invade in our lifetimes."

Kershaw started. "So long?" he asked and stood from the bench to look at his senior in astonishment. "Five years, perhaps
ten..."

"Not less than twenty five years," Gerik advised him gently. "It will take no less than two years to properly prepare the
forces required and then a long slow voyage back along the Exodus Road. Three to four years merely to begin their expedition, with Kerlin slowing them all the
way."

"That is outrageous!" The saKhan of the Star Adders was some thirty-one years old. Holding a bloodname, much less a high political
office, would extend his career considerably, but the chances that he could still call himself a warrior when he reached the age of fifty-six were remote. The
notion that Gerik N'Buta, fourteen years his elder, might do likewise was simply laughable.

"He is right." Gerik's voice was calm and barely ruffled by regret. "I do not forgive him for this, of course. To see the
Hope of Kerensky fulfilled, to see the Inner Sphere myself... This I have dreamed of for many years, Kershaw. But... Kerlin is right. We need to know and we
need to prepare. Consider - we will be engaging in a campaign more than a thousand light years from our homes against enemies that will be superior, at least
in numbers, to our own forces."

The saKhan frowned. One might rise through the ranks of other clans through nothing more than skill as a warrior, but among the Star Adders
it was expected that a senior officer understand more than elementary tactics. "I do not know what demands that would make upon our logistics," he
admitted at last. "We would need to establish a forward base... years of work."

Gerik's eyebrow crooked at the suggestion. "That is certainly one possibility," he agreed. "The fact is that no Clan has
ever considered such a feat of logistics or a conflict waged on such a tremendous scale. Perhaps the Star League's would-be successors have fragmented and
will fall readily to us one at a time. Or perhaps they have not - the reports we have gathered have been few and far between, never from reliable sources. And
even if it means that I will not live to see our return, I cannot commit to any plan that would expose us to possible disaster."

"Disaster?" Kershaw asked. "Is that not a trifle alarmist, Gerik?"

"Is it?" Gerik watched the younger man struggle with the question. "We do not know, quineg?" He shivered slightly and
noticed that the sun had dipped below the horizon and that the wall he leant against had cooled significantly. Standing, he shrugged on his jacket.

The aerospace pilot chuckled. "You are getting old, my Khan," he chided.

"Can I convince you to come back and warm my bed while we discuss this further," the forty-five year old leered mockingly and
rolled his eyes when Kershaw shook his head. "You must be right. When I was your age all you young warriors loved my company."

"You are simply not my flavour of choice," Kershaw defended himself, moving to open the door back into the hall.

Gerik shrugged. "You are almost as staid as some of the civilian castes," he protested, following his junior Khan.

"There is no need to be insulting," grumbled Kershaw. "On another subject, some of the scientists tell me that the Goliath
Scorpions are onto something new in the lasers field," he commented, shifting the subject less likely to attract attention in the more crowded interior of
the Hall of the Khans.

"Oh?" Gerik said, lechery forgotten. "That must have slipped past me. What are they talking about?"

"How would you like an extended range laser with twenty percent more power and range, but only eighty percent as heavy as the old
Newharts?" Kershaw asked with a grin. "I can assure you, I would like a pair of those on my Kirghiz."

Gerik's smile was that of a predator. "Hah! I like the idea very much, Kershaw. We will want to have those ready for when our
respective offspring are able to begin our Crusade into the Inner Sphere."

"We shall have to get hold of them first," cautioned Kershaw. "The Khans of the Scorpions are well aware of the advantages of
such weapons. They will not relinquish them lightly so I wish to take my Keshik and obtain them myself."

"Kershaw," the elder Khan warned as they descended one of the broad, shallow steps that connected the many galleries of the Hall of
the Khans. "There is a time and place for a Khan to take the battlefield. Any Star Colonel can bid a simple trial like that. How else will they learn
enough to step into our shoes one day?"

"Hn," Kershaw grunted unhappily. "I have hardly had any time in the cockpit since I last tested to keep my warrior
status." He considered for a moment. "Since I have been outbid, how about sending Edwina Banacek? She has been spoiling for a fight since the whole
business with the Coyotes, and if she sharpens the Seventy-Third any more, they will start cutting themselves."

Gerik chuckled. "You must be really annoyed with the Scorpions. You know they are firmer on Zellbrigen than we are and Edwina makes the
two of us look like Jade Parrots."

Kershaw squawked derisively and then sneered at the scowls directed at him by a pair of warriors in Jade Falcon colours. "I think that
Edwina might be quite useful," he said. "If she can handle this business with the Scorpions then she might be just the person to build us a permanent
opposing force to train against?"

"Are Kappa Galaxy not enough for you?" asked Gerik. The secondline Galaxy was often used as a proving ground for newly graduated
warriors, somewhere where they could show their merits before being moved up into the frontline units. What units were not on detachment elsewhere often
provided opposition for warrior tests and Trials of Position.

Kershaw shook his head. "Kappa is organised in the manner of all Clan soldiers," he explained. "To prepare to fight the Inner
Sphere we need something like the unit that Khan Ward proposed, a force organised and equipped like the old Star League Defense Force, like the troops of the
Inner Sphere, for us to test our fangs upon. And we need them to fight dirty, because if the old SLDF manuals in our archives are any guide, they would use any
tactic or weapon that worked. We must assume that the Inner Sphere will do likewise."

"Edwina is the right person for that," Gerik snorted and gestured for Kershaw to precede him into his office, an anonymous little
room like any of a hundred others in the Star Adder wing of the Hall. There was no decoration inside, only a desk with one simple chair behind it and a small
computer sat on the surface. "I do not think that our good friends in the other clans would approve however. After the Coyote scandal the last thing we
should do is give them ammunition to use against us."

"That is the beauty of what I have in mind," Kershaw explained. "I said earlier that we would need a forward base. When we
find a suitable world, we can establish the training unit there and unless the other Clans stumbled over it, they would never know what we are doing
there."

"You mean to keep it a secret?"

"Absolutely. A secret colony, one that can fill many roles for us," nodded Kershaw enthusiastically. "Imagine it, Gerik!
Factories to support and replenish our touman. Farms to feed them. Training grounds to prepare them for the battles to come. And all placed only a few jumps
short of the Inner Sphere, so that we can stage from it directly into the invasion."

The Khan nodded. "You have vision, Kershaw. But you must find a suitable world first, and colonising it without the other Clans knowing
will be hard."

"We have twenty-five years," Kershaw said simply. "Even by taking small and discreet actions much can be accomplished in such
a span of time."

"A quarter century at least," the Khan agreed. "Perhaps more. It is unlikely that either of us will lead the Star Adders when
that day comes. Tell me your plans, Kershaw."

Kershaw gathered his thoughts. "We can begin simply," he said. "Obtaining the lasers is a good start - once we have them, we
can pressure our scientist caste to start applying their principles to other weapons. If Scorpion scientists can create such a weapon then we must drive our
own to surpass them in creativity. When the time comes for the technicans to retool their factories to produce the new weapons, we can easily hide the parts
for additional factories. In the meantime though, we need to find our forward base. Eric Lahiri -" The Star Adder's Naval Adjutant and effectively
commander of their fleet of warships and jumpships "- was in the same sibko as I. She can slip a small flotilla out of sight and send it out to find a
suitable place to begin from."

Gerik nodded. "Somewhere near what was the Rim Worlds Republic, or perhaps the outer reaches of the Draconis Combine," he advised.
"We should not extend ourselves too far, but areas near the border between the Combine and the Commonwealth will probably be well
patrolled."

"That would make sense," agreed Kershaw. "We can keep things small for now. When Edwina has done with playing with the
Scorpions - and any other clan whose scientists are developing useful weapons - we can assign her to help the Wolves train their spies. It is an honorable
assignment and will let tempers cool but few of our cousins will see it in that light. No one will be surprised if she drops out of sight after a task like
that - they will assume that she was disgraced and chose to become solahma. She and those like her will be at the heart of our preparations,
quiaff"

"Aff." Gerik looked at the desk in front of him. "There is another possibility that this forward base should be considered
for."

"What?" Kershaw asked.

Gerik smiled humorlessly. "If the other Clans decide one day to destroy us," he said. "Then it might well need to become our
last refuge. Make sure that it is a worthy world of such a destiny, Kershaw. And well hidden also."
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

Hall of the Khans, Warrior Quarter

Strana Mechty

Kerensky Cluster, Clan Space

3 January 3049

"Leo Showers, have you gone completely insane?" asked Khan Virgilia Truscott in a clear voice that carried easily across the Grand
Council's chamber.

If her voice had not been clearly audible over the murmuring of the gathered Khans discussing the just proposed plans Operation Revival, the
long dreamed of return to the Inner Sphere by Kerensky's heirs, then even a pin dropping could have been detected in the dead silence that followed her
question.

"Would the Khan of the Star Adders care to clarify her question?" the ilKhan asked from his throne, eyes narrowed dangerously. Leo
Showers was not a man to be trifled with. He had risen to the leadership of the Smoke Jaguars, one of the fiercest of all the Clans, and had not even a month
before been elected as ilKhan, the first such in fully one hundred years. That victory, won on the back of the ascendancy of the Crusader faction among the
clans placed him in an unassailable political position and the Star Adders had been clearly amongst his supporters until this moment.

Virgilia rose to her feet. Several years younger than Leo she was less than a centimeter shorter and her red-gold hair, tied back with a
ribbon of black silk, was the only colour against the monochrome black leather and white silk of Clan Star Adder's dress uniform. "I would be
delighted to," she replied as calmly as if he had invited her to join him for a casual drink.

"This plan," she declared, gesturing at the diagrams still displayed on the holo-vid display that was built into the dais opposite
the seats of the Khans, "Is nothing less than an elaborate attempt at suicide for the Clans as a whole. If I were to commit even a star of solahma
infantry so recklessly - so wastefully - I would be removed as Khan within an hour of proposing it. To suggest that this abortion of a scheme is to be carried
is to seek that well nigh a quarter of the military might of the Clans be annihilated and that our most priceless advantage over the degenerates who squat over
the Star League's ruins be bid away for no gain. I do not believe you to be a fool, Leo Showers. So I ask again, are you insane to seek this outcome? I
would sooner believe that I cast my vote for a madman, than for a traitor."

The chamber exploded into outraged protests. Only the fact that they would have had to physically clamber over the Khans of Clan Wolf to
reach Virgilia prevented the Smoke Jaguar Khans from physically assaulting her and Timur Malthus was far from the only seated Khan who looked tempted to join
them in rising to give physical force to their objections to the Star Adder's words.

"By the Exodus, Virgilia," her saKhan hissed, the words hidden by the shouting of their peers. "Are you trying to turn us into
Wardens at this late date?" The Star Adder's junior Khan was not a short man, but his stocky build made him seem so when compared to the slim figure
of Virgilia. Roderick N'Buta was three years older than his superior and had served the Star Adders as one of their senior staff officers and field
commanders for more than a decade before he was elected to counterbalance the young ristar who won election a year before.

"Khan Truscott," Leo Showers growled, rising to his feet but visibly restraining himself from crossing the room himself. "You
will recall that we are at war and that the martial code binds us all. Your accusations are vile and ignoble. This plan has been reviewed by dozens of warriors
before being presented here today and I do not see any support for your doubts amongst your fellow Khans here."

The sound of someone clearing their throat came from one of the upper benches and the Khan of Clan Goliath Scorpion, Nikolai Djerassi, stood.
"Virgilia Truscott is as tested a warrior as any of the Khans, Leo Showers. If she sees a fault in these plans then we should hear it
out."

The ilKhan scowled and then waved dismissively in the direction of the Star Adder bench. "Very well then," he said, sinking back
onto the stone throne that faced the leaders of the seventeen Clans. "However, Virgilia, recall that if you phrase your comments as insults then you may
expect to receive redress from those you target with your serpent's tongue."

Virgilia nodded. "To remind you all of some pertinent facts, I would like my saKhan to summarise the likely forces that the reports from
Clan Wolf's Dragoons and from the captured Inner Sphere jumpship indicate that we must defeat in order to reach Terra."

Roderick frowned and then began speaking, drawing the figures not from the papers and files in front of him but from memory. "The
primary axis of advance takes us through the Free Rasalhague Republic. Their touman numbers not less than twelve hundred battlemechs with supporting arms and
with the addition of mercenary forces may be as much as fifty percent larger. Spinward of Rasalhague lies the Draconis Combine. Their full military strength is
little known due to deliberate deception on their part, but is not less than ten thousand battlemechs with infantry and armoured units in the usual
proportions. Finally, anti-spinward of both states, the Federated Commonwealth commands a minimum of twice as many battlemechs as the Combine's Mustered
Soldiery and typically assign a larger proportion of armoured vehicles and infantry to support their battlemechs than is customary elsewhere in the Inner
Sphere."

"So disregarding anything else, the Inner Sphere realms that we must directly battle to reach Terra field at least thirty thousand
battlemechs, possibly as many as forty thousand," Virgilia asked. "And as responsible strategists we must consider the worst case assumption. Let us
presume that they are forty thousand strong with ample supporting elements and that they can bring as much as eighty percent of their armed forces to bear upon
us. And your plan calls for, what? Four clans to field three - perhaps four - galaxies and a fifth to provide a similar force as a strategic reserve. Five
thousand battlemechs perhaps. So we may be outnumbered seven to one, something that suggests, to me at least, that ilKhan Showers and his advisors have pushed
their bid well below cutdown."

"Against the trash warriors of the Inner Sphere," Timur Malthus growled, "And their antiquated battlemechs, even two clans
could seize Terra."

"Not with this plan," disagreed Virgilia. "Oh, two clans could take Terra, simply bypassing the intervening worlds and seizing
it directly. But they could never hold it against such overwhelming odds. No, Khan Malthus. While our warriors are undoubtedly superior to those of the Inner
Sphere, and our weapons more advanced, we should not presume that their courage or will is less than our own. After all, our ancestors were similarly
advantaged in Operation Klondike, when the Great Nicholas Kerensky led us and do you recall their opponents simply rolling over and dying? No - they fought,
bravely. No small number of the first eight hundred warriors died in those battles, their bloodnames vacant until a new generation could arise to compete for
them. No lesser man than the Founder's own brother perished in that campaign."

"That was a completely different situtation," protested Khan Robin Steele of Clan Coyote.

Virgilia nodded. "Indeed it was. There we were only invading five worlds and committed the equivalent of a Galaxy to each one of them.
There are two thousand worlds of the Inner Sphere and they will not surrender simply because we capture Terra - assuming that the invaders even manage to
penetrate so far into the Inner Sphere."

Ulric Kerensky leaned forwards, resting his forearms on the marble top of his desk. "Khan Truscott, do you truly believe that the Inner
Sphere can bring their greater numbers to bear upon the invading forces? Given that those units will be scattered across the Inner Sphere and that we will have
the advantage of surprise and, as the invaders, choice of targets, it should be a simple matter to obtain local superiority," he pointed out, his voice
intrigued.

Virgilia shook her head, setting her ponytail whipping back and forth. "And while your frontline forces are conquering worlds like Carse
or Buckminster," she asked, naming a pair of worlds deep inside the Inner Sphere, "What is to stop them taking back worlds like Rasalhague that are
two hundred light years behind you? How many troops would you require to garrison your conquests and secure your supply lines?"

"That is what garrison clusters are for," growled Leo Showers.

"I was not aware that the Smoke Jaguar Clan had a hundred garrison clusters," Virgilia countered. They didn't and she knew it.
"Your plan calls for almost four hundred planets to be conquered just to reach Terra, never mind the subsequent campaigns that will be needed to subdue
the Successor States. Four Clans cannot possibly garrison that many worlds without spreading themselves so thin that the Inner Sphere will be able to
counterattack with crushing local superiority."

"In the end," she said, "the toumans of whichever clans invade will be gutted and the Inner Sphere will seek out our
Homeworlds to bring war to us and to tear us down just as they tore apart the Star League almost three hundred years ago."

Leo Showers shook his head. "Enough," he said abruptly. "Your cowardice shames your clan, Khan Truscott."

"There has been enough talk," Roderick commented from his seat. "Clan Star Adder supports our Khan. I call for a vote on the
viability of the ilKhan's plan."

"Agreed," said Leo. "This vote is for the adoption of my plan for the invasion. If the vote is carried against it then a new
plan will be drawn up in consultation with our cautious Star Adder comrades."

Lights began to appear at the front of each Khan's desk, indicating their votes, while the holographic display in the centre of the Hall
tabulated the number of votes. The Khans of Clan Smoke Jaguar and Clan Jade Falcon immediately cast their votes in favour of the plan, giving them an early
lead over the two Star Adder votes. Then Clan Blood Spirit voted against, evening the numbers until Clan Burrock opposed their traditional rivals and a number
of the Warden-leaning Khans, led by Robin Steele and presumably wanting not to escalate the size of the invasion, also favored the ilKhan's proposal.
Glancing around the room, Virgilia saw that only Ulric Kerensky, Nikolai Djerassi and Tanya DeLaurel, the junior Khan of the Hells Horses, had cast their votes
against the plan.

Seven against twenty-seven. She had not swayed many. Opening her mouth to take the logical next step, she was pre-empted by Ulric's
steady voice.

"I call for a Trial of Refusal," he said, staring dispassionately at Leo Showers. "While I would prefer not to invade at all,
since we must I would prefer that we have a plan that can succeed."

Leo Showers scanned the faces of the gathered Khans. "Your challenge is accepted," he said. "What forces do you bid against
this -"

"I also call for a Trial of Refusal," Virgilia called, followed a moment later by Karianna Schmitt of the Blood Spirits.

The ilKhan shook his head. "You require the assent of the rest of the Grand Council to offer additional refusals to a vote," he
stated, "and I do not believe that a majority will support this obstructionism." The looks on the faces of the Khans supported his
assertion.

"My fellow Khans," said Ulric smoothly, rising to his feet. "I do not feel that I have the right to exclude the Khans of two
Clans who are so clearly opposed to this plan when my own clan's leadership is evidently divided on the matter." Beside him, Garth Radick grimaced at
the jab. "I therefore propose that our three clans all participate in Trials of Refusal each against a proponent of this plan. However, to prevent this
from constituting an obstruction, at least two victories shall be required of us to overturn the vote."

The muttering amongst the Khans seemed to suggest that they were in favour of any motion that might get Virgilia to stop delaying the
important bidding for positions in the invasion force. Leo Showers considered the proposal for a moment. "I hear no objections to your proposal, Khan
Ulric. Let the Trial be accepted by acclamation. What forces do you bid against our decision?"

"The 279th Battle Cluster," replied Ulric promptly.

After a muttered discussion between the Blood Spirit Khans, the 7th Blood Drinker Cluster was nominated to represent them.

"Do you have any recommendations?" Virgilia asked Roderick wryly as the Blood Spirits declared their choice.

"I was rather hoping that you had an actual plan," he commented irritably, still glaring down at the ilKhan.

Virgilia smirked. "No plan survives contact with the enemy, Roderick. You know that. I would value your advice."

He sighed softly. "Banacek's Bandits," he said at last. "Give them a taste of what they'll face in the Inner
Sphere." Virgilia smirked and nodded.

Showers cleared his throat. "Khan Truscott? Your bid?"

"I bid the 417th Adder Sentinels Cluster," Virgilia said clearly and grinned as for a second time the Grand Council dissolved into
confusion at her choice of a secondline unit for something she evidently felt strongly about.

-/-

Andrei Island

Strana Mechty

Kerensky Cluster, Clan Space

24 January 3049

Warrior Julian moved slowly through the shallow waters around the uninhabited island. He had never been to Strana Mechty before, much less
laid eyes on the island, but he had studied the maps carefully before setting out on this mission. He knew that the forces bid by Clan Coyote to defend the
ilKhan's strategy had been scheduled to land during the night at the narrow end of the egg-shaped isle, one of only two relatively open areas where ships
could land. The 417th Adder Sentinels had landed before sunset the night before to ensure that no clashes took place between the dropships of the two rival
clans and a fast helicopter had rushed him to the shore under the cover of darkness.

Avoiding a patch of weed that might have betrayed his presence, Julian continued to move along the shore line. It was fortunate, he thought,
that the Clan aerospace programme weeded out any claustrophobes early in training. The darkness of the water and the confinement of the modified Elemental suit
of battle armour was disconcerting under any circumstances and he was relying almost entirely on inertial guidance to reach his destination.

With the sun still low in the sky, it would be difficult for anyone to see him moving under the water, he knew having acted as lookout
against his fellow warriors attempting just this feat in training exercises. However, it was also very difficult to see out of the water. He could barely see
shadowy movement on a scale that made it clear that OmniMechs must be moving around on the shore, now only a few hundred metres away.

Dropping onto hands and knees, the aged warrior began to crawl towards the shoreline. It was an ignoble way to enter battle, but he
didn't have much time before the sun was high enough in the sky to reveal his movements and while a swift death under the guns of the Coyotes was an
honourable enough death, he would prefer that he had the opportunity to send a few of them ahead of him.

The sand beneath the manipulators and feet of Julian's armour gave better traction than the mud he had trained in and he was making good
progress when there was a flash of light from above him and a shockwave through the water hit him, causing him to roll over to his right twice. His face
tightened. That could only mean that one of his fellow Star Adders had been discovered and killed. He was out of time - within moments, Coyote infantry would
be in the water and he had no illusions that he could survive a close quarters battle against a real Elemental.

Rising to his feet, he saw found that the water was now only barely touching his visor and that the missile pack on his shoulders must
certainly be clear of the surface. One command opened the water-tight seals and he lifted the targeting laser attached to his right arm above the water, laying
its cursor over a stack of what looked like standard munition containers.

There was a hiss and he started as he saw the fiery trails of missiles arcing up into the air. I'm not much of a warrior any more, he
realised. It's not just my reflexes, I don't think I have the nerve any more. As the missiles descended he recentred the targeting laser and fired the
two long range missiles he was carrying.

Before the concussions of missiles exploding in the water around him stunned Julian, he saw the first missile hammer into the crate he had
targeted and he took the bright light of the first explosions with him into the darkness of unconciousness.

-/-

Sancia Kufahl glared at the battered suit of battle armour that was just barely recognisable as having once been an Elemental. The sun was
high in the sky and by now she should have been halfway across Andrei Island and hopefully halfway through the 417th. Instead, the dawn suicide strikes by this
stravag and his fellow Star Adders had left half her force reeling and she had been forced to concede the lead to Star Colonel Wendy Drewsivitch's 81st
Strike Cluster.

"Have you secured the perimeter fully now?" she asked Star Commander Oskar, the most senior remaining Elemental in her Cluster.
Oskar's predecessor, Star Captain Valerie Steele, had been near the ammunition stockpile, having a damaged belt of ammunition for her machinegun replaced,
when it detonated and so far nobody had been able to find a trace of her. Sancia was morbidly certain that if any one did, it would probably be in
orbit.

Oskar shrugged as best he could without letting go of the one armed suit he had dragged in front of Sancia's Timber Wolf. "I have
assigned a Star to make regular sweeps of the water. Now that we know what to look for, this should not happen again."

"It should never have happened the first time," snarled Sancia. She looked at the lined face of the prisoner, exposed after Oskar
had removed the entire helmet assembly from the suit. The man was too old for effective service, there was considerable grey in his otherwise raven-black hair,
so it seemed likely that he was solahma. It was probably a more effective use than using them as sacrifical infantry diversions, she conceded, but to strike
from hiding like this was a horrifying reminder of how far the Star Adders had fallen from the honorable ways of the Clans. "Wake him up," she
ordered.

Oskar nodded to one of his fellow Elementals, who replaced the Star Commander in securing the captive Star Adder. Opening a medical kit,
Oskar produced a stimulant and injected it into old warrior. "It will take a moment for the drug to take effect," he rumbled.

Sancia nodded, restraining her temper. It was not Oskar's fault that their security had been breached, she reminded herself. Valerie
Steele should have done so, and Sancia herself should have ordered Valerie to have done so. But they had been lax and now Valerie and almost a score of
technicians had paid the price, along with essentially the entire reserve ammuniton store for the 38th Assault Cluster and a pair of Adders that had taken
disabling damage from stray LRMs launching themselves on random ballistic trajectories. Another dozen or so Mechs had taken minor damage as well.

The old man coughed, spitting up blood. However well his armor had sealed him, the concussion of missiles exploding around him in the water
must have caused internal injuries, Sancia noted. Well, it wasn't as if he would have had much longer to live anyway. "What are you?" she
demanded.

He tried to speak, then grimaced and spat another gob of blood onto the floor. "Warrior Julian," he reported, staring vaguely
between Sancia and Oskar. "417th Adder Sentinels."

Sancia slapped him across the face. "No, you are an honorless stravag," she snarled and backhanded him on the other cheek.
"Lower than a freebirth!"

The impact seemed to stir greater awareness in him and his eyes focused on the irate Star Colonel. "Coyote," he sighed and slumped
slightly in the grip of his captor.

"Correct," Sancia agreed. "You, however, you are not a Star Adder." His head jerked up in denial, but she continued:
"You may have been one once, warrior. But you are an expendable asset to them. Or rather, you were. For you have been expended now,
quiaff?"

"Neg." Julian whispered.

"Oh, but you have been," Sancia promised.

Oskar's blood chilled as he saw the Star Adder's eyes harden. "Not yet," the solahma declared and jerked his head sharply.
"I -"

Whatever Warrior Julian might have been about to say, or Star Commander Oskar might have perceived would never be an issue however. Triggered
by the sharp movement, an electrical signal reached a double dozen packets of high explosive packed into the battle armour around the diminutive frame of the
former pilot and an instant later, the space in front of Sancia Kufahl's Timber Wolf was swept clear, if not clean, by hundreds of shards of battle
armour.

The Elemental restraining Julian survived, although the damage to his armour would prevent any active participation in the Trial. Oskar,
Sancia and two other mechwarriors from the Colonel's Star, were not as fortunate. Julian, of course, was all but disintegrated by the blast.

It was four hours into the Trial of Refusal, and the Coyote force had just had half of their command structure decapitated -
literally.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

"Where in Kerensky's name are those treacherous surats hiding?" Mechwarrior Adolph muttered as he pushed past the branches of a
yet another tree to let his Executioner move through the thick forest that covered most of Andrei Island, leaving a trail of splintered wood and crushed leaves
behind him.

"In this tight terrain, they could be anywhere," Marshall Koga replied. The Star Commander had taken the second place in line and
was relying Adolph to clear away minor obstructions that his Dire Wolf lacked the hands to deal with. "Close quarters like this will reduce the number of
us they have to fight at any one time. It is an effective strategy, Adolph."

"It is -" Adolph broke off. "I have a magnetic anomaly. Very faint, but there is definitely something out there." He
hastened the pace of his Mech, the MASC circuitry accelerating him to considerable speed as he brushed through the trees.

"Slow down, damn you," ordered Marshall. "You are leaving the rest of us behind." The Dire Wolf crunched through the path
being left by the much faster Executioner, the two Warhawks and the Kingfisher behind trying to force their own path around the slower Mech.

Adolph ignored the instruction. It was not his fault that Marshall had taken the largest Mech in the Star, even though it was also the
slowest. In an open field engagement, it allowed Marshall to cover the advance of his Star, but here it was nothing but a problem. Besides, the Surat Adders
had only sent a secondline force here to face the Coyotes, and he had heard that one of the dropships delivering them had been carrying vehicles, not
Battlemechs. If he could close in on the target he should have no trouble reducing it to scrap before Marshall arrived. He had configured the assault Mech with
a heavy autocannon well suited to these close quarters, and several racks of short ranged missiles that would finish off his opponents after the cannon opened
up their armour for him. It was thinking ahead like this that would win him promotion to Star Commander the next time Marshall faced a Trial of
Position.

He glanced at the magscanner and saw that the magnetic anomaly had split into two distinct signatures, both massing just short of twenty
tons. The way that they moved through the woods made it clear that they could be nothing but BattleMechs. Nothing that size could possibly pose a threat to
him. He only hoped that they kept moving in his general dire-

The next thing that Adolph knew, the Executioner was sprawled on the ground and his head was ringing. "What... what was that?" he
muttered.

"Adolph!" Marshall shouted over the radio. "What happened? Have you encountered the enemy?"

"I don't know?" he said, the words more a question than anything. Reaching for the controls he tried to wrestle the ninety-five
ton omnimech back against a tree that he could lean on. It was only then that he realised that the left arm was not responding and checked the diagnostics. Oh.
Well, the fact that the entire left shoulder assembly was scattered across the forest floor probably explained that. "I have been hit," he reported
more definitely. "I picked up two light mechs, but it was something else that shot me. Something big."

He could almost see Marshall nodding deliberately as he processed the data. "Find somewhere to take cover. We will be with you
soon," he promised.

"Understood," Adolph said and, pushing with the Mech's legs, he managed to wedge himself against a tree trunk at least as broad
as the Executioner's shoulders. Standing was the next step, but for now he just wanted something to cover his rear. That was pretty evidently where
he'd been hit after all.

The only thing that his main cameras were displaying were the tree branches overhead and the hole that had been torn through it. He paused
and then focused his cameras on the branches. Whatever had come through them had been coming down, just about behind where he had been when he...

"Artillery," he muttered. "Those little... freebirth... those little surats! They were spotting for an artillery
battery!"

"Who was?" Marshall asked and to his relief, the familiar shapes of a Warhawk and a Kingfisher in Coyote colours entered the
clearing. "You have certainly made a wreck of that Mech, Adolph. I do not think that you can continue to fight in that condition."

Suddenly, as clearly as if it was happening, Adolph realised that both of the OmniMechs he could see would be hit if the artillery fired
again. They were standing almost exactly where he had been. "Get out of here!" he snapped decisively. "They've got the range
-"

"Marshall," one of the Star reported. "He is raving. There is no one within half a kilometer of us and no line of sight more
than half -"

Insulated inside his cockpit, Adolph could not hear the whistle of shells, so the first he knew of the attack was when explosions engulfed
the two OmniMechs. "Mechwarrior Adolph of Star Bravo Three to all Stars, 81st Strike Cluster," he shouted into his radio. "We are under
artillery attack in sector seventeen. The Star Adders are using light battlemechs to spot for a battery of heavy guns." He flipped his radar on long
enough to get a direction for the origin of the shells. "The guns appear to be somewhere in sector twenty four or twenty five."

"Message understood, Mechwarrior," came the calm voice of Star Colonel Wendy Drewsivitch. "What is your
condition?"

Marshall cut into the conversation. "Three points have been disabled, Star Colonel. We can hold against direct attack, but we cannot
counter the artillery."

The shells stopped falling and Adolph gulped as he saw that Mechwarrior Violet's Warhawk didn't have a cockpit any more. The
Kingfisher had been driven to its knees by the sustained salvo, which must have been much heavier than the volley that had disabled his Mech, but he could see
it slowly trying to rise, a sign that the pilot had survived the expereince.

"Star Bravo Three, the estimated time of arrival for reinforcements is at least ten minutes," Drewsivitch advised. "Can you
hold out?"

"Negative, repeat negative," Marshall reported. "I request permission to withdraw."

There was a long silence as the Star Colonel weighed the odds. "Get your warriors out of there, Star Commander," she said at last.
"Why will they not fight us?" she muttered under her breath.

Adolph kept his mouth shut. It seemed to him that the Star Adders were fighting them, and if they weren't fighting fairly, they were at
the least fighting rather effectively.

-/-

Wendy Drewsivitch grumbled as she backed her Gargoyle slowly back through the woods. The snivelling Star Adders were actually avoiding
battle, but their tricks were bleeding her forces nonetheless. "I hate retreating," she said out loud, alone in the cockpit where no one could hear
her. Unfortunately, until she figured out how she was going to force the cowardly surats to face her in battle, lurking in the forest wouldn't help. There
would be nowhere back at the landing site that she could be ambushed like this and it would probably take two Clusters to pin them down in this dense
terrain.

"Maybe I could burn it all down?" she speculated out loud. The Gargoyle's foot squelched in the mud between two of the largely
entwined root systems of the trees. "...not unless there's an unseasonal month of high temperatures, obviously. I don't have the ammunition to
level it tree by tree and I'll probably lose more Mechs doing it by hand than their current sniping..."

"I hate Star Adders," she continued. "They make their weakness into strengths. There should be a law."

"Star Colonel?" a voice that should not under any circumstances be uncertain asked... uncertainly.

"Yes, Star Captain," Wendy said wearily. "What is it now?"

The commander of her reserve trinary swallowed nervously. "The 38th Assault Cluster just advised us that someone - the Star Adders
obviously - just raked the edge of the forest with long range missiles. They are pretty sure that they were Thunder LRMs."

"How sure."

"A Fire Moth got both legs blown trying to get into the forest."

"How much of the edge do they think may have been affected?" asked Wendy.

"Ah... most of it," he admitted. "They tried to clear a path through it but whoever it is simply laid more mines around the
Mechs doing the clearing."

"So they're still around?"

"About half a kilometre inside the forest is the best estimate," Star Captain Toshiro said. "I'm moving to try to
intercept them."

"Good," she affirmed and then hesitated. "No, no that isn't good. You're heading into a trap, Star Captain. Hold your
position immediately."

There was a long pause as Toshiro gave orders and then: "We're stopped, Colonel. But what do we do now? We can't go back unless
we break through the minefield, and if we go on."

"This whole island is a trap," Wendy sighed. "Unfortunately, we're already inside it. Damn the Adders anyway. Stand by for
further orders."

Bringing her Gargoyle to rest under the shelter of a tree, Wendy Drewsivitch started looking for a way out of the mess that she'd managed
to get her command inside of.

An hour later, she opened a general radio channel to the Star Adders and requested hegira.



Hall of the Khans, Warrior Quarter

Strana Mechty

Kerensky Cluster, Clan Space

26 January 3049

Virgilia waited until Robin Steele was done venting his spleen in front of the Grand Council before rising to her feet and waiting for
permission to speak. There was a satisfied look on Leo Showers face as he nodded to her. The Blood Spirits had been all but rolled over by three Clusters from
Clan Burrock and the Jade Falcons had beaten Clan Wolf almost as badly as his own Smoke Jaguars had the previous year, so the Star Adder's victory was an
empty one.

"Khan Steele has spoken, at length," Virgilia told the Khans, "of how unclanlike the battle my warriors waged upon him was. I
can assure you all that he speaks nothing less the absolute truth. My warriors - old men and women, washouts from training and disgraced failures - were armed
with battlemechs, vehicles and weapons dating back to the era of the Star League and before... which is precisely what will be found within the Inner Sphere
and their tactics are exactly what you may expect there."

"After the invasion rolls over their frontline positions and their hapless Mechwarriors are slaughtered by the manifest advantages that
our warriors have over them, those who survive will learn their lessons well. They will strike in confined spaces where our greater range means nothing. They
will use stealth and they will use treachery. And I salute Star Colonel Drewsivitch for her courage in admitting that she was unprepared to deal with these
tactics and withdrawing before more of her warriors were slaughtered."

"I know that, despite the best efforts of Clan Wolf and Clan Blood Spirit, you will invade using the ilKhan's plan of action. I
suggest that all of you give very careful thought to the humiliation that Clan Coyote faced when even two to one odds did not allow them to overwhelm Solahma
warriors armed with obsolete weapons and consider ways to avoid the same fate against an enemy that I can assure you will not be offering
hegira."

Leo Showers scowled. "I am sure that we will give your words due weight," he told her.

The Star Adder Khan sighed and shook her head. "I have my doubts," she told the ilKhan. "In any event," she added,
stepping out from behind the desk. "Our business here is done. Clan Star Adder won our Trial of Refusal, so even if we cannot stop you, we can at least
refuse to participate in your plans. Have fun stomring the Inner Sphere."

"Do you think that they have a chance?" Roderick N'Buta asked as he followed his Khan out of the Grand Council
chambers.

"It would take a miracle," she told him.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

Fort Truscott

Sheridan

Kerensky Cluster, Clan Space

14 February 3049

The conference tables in the command centre of Fort Truscott were two half-circles of wood cut from one of the more spectactular trees of the
planet's forests, which a botanist might have catagorised as somewhere between a redwood and an oak - on steroids. There was enough of a gap between the
two tables that someone could walk between them, and a holo-projector built into the ceiling could be used for display purposes. At the moment it was
displaying the Kerensky Cluster and the Pentagon Worlds, slowly spinning so that everyone sat at the tables - the two Khans, all five Adjutants, the Adder
Keeper, the Loremaster and eight of the ten Galaxy Commanders.

"I think we are all familiar with what is happening now," Virgilia Truscott told them. "However, and I do not apologise for
this, not all of you are aware of the background. For those of you whom this applies to, what you are about to learn is highly classified. It has never been
fully briefed to Clan Council, although many of them are aware of at least some part of it. The reason for this will - I hope - be clear." She very
carefully did not mention that Roderick N'Buta and Galaxy Commander Duke Togo, unlike every other officer in the room, were wearing siderarms, discreetly
hidden by the table. The Khans of Clan Star Adder had not made an actual record of the number of their subordinates that they had had to kill to keep their
secrets, but there were some suspiciously private trials of greivance if you studied the historical record carefully.

"If it explains why you decided to insult the ilKhan in front of the entire Grand Council, then it must be quite the story,"
Tabitha Paik, the youngest of the Galaxy Commanders, said bleakly. "I would truly prefer that we do not become the second Not-Named Clan,
quiaff?"

"Aff," Virgilia nodded. "The story begins shortly after the Dragoon Compromise when Khan Gerik N'Buta authorised his
saKhan to make plans and preparations for the invasion of the Inner Sphere, which they both expected to take place considerably sooner than it actually has.
Kershaw Lahiri had severe concerns about the viability of a military operation carried out more than a thousand light years from the nearest secure base, so in
3004 he ordered a small expedition to survey worlds nearer the Inner Sphere to use as a forward base."

The Kerensky cluster vanished, replaced by the blue and green orb of a life-bearing planet. "What the expedition found was Sinclair, an
eminiently colonisable world only about two hundred light years from the edge of what was once the Rim Worlds Republic and is now, it seems, part of this
Federated-Commonwealth that the Scavenger Lords of the Inner Sphere have pieced together."

"You broke a Grand Council directive!" Tabitha hissed. "Have you lost your mind?"

Roderick slammed one palm down on the wood of the table. It sounded so like a pistol shot that for a moment Virgilia thought that he or Duke
had decided to silence Tabitha permanently. "Firstly, Tabitha Paik," he said sharply, "This was a decision made before anyone in this room
except for myself was born. Secondly, the Grand Council decided to delay return to the Inner Sphere. Sinclair is located in the Periphery, which by definition
means that it is outside the Inner Sphere."

The younger woman glared at him defiantly but sat back into her chair. "I suppose."

"Thirdly," spat Roderick, "This is a war council of the Clan. Stop acting like a spoiled sibkid. You are better than
that."

Tabitha's back straightened. "My apologies," she said. Not to Roderick, but to the Khan.

Virgilia nodded. It wasn't exactly formal surkai, but it would suffice. "Sinclair, quite frankly, was so ideal that the survey team
stopped right there. Without going into details that only a scientist would care about, it is actually slightly more habitable than Sheridan is. Over the next
decade three large convoys of colonists and supplies were slipped away to it and the population is currently a little short of a million members of the
civilian castes, and several thousand warriors - quite a number of them from Sibkos founded there. One of the functions of Sinclair was as a repository for
Clan Star Adder - there is a very formidable genetic stockpile and information cache located there such that if the rest of the Clan were to drop dead suddenly
- or more to the point, be annihilated or absorbed, the Clan would live on."

"I did not know that," Jared Le Fabre said in surprise. As Defense Adjutant he had been aware of some aspects of what Virgilia was
telling them, but evidently not as complete a version as he had thought.

"Jared, you did not need to know that," Virgilia told him. "In fact, I probably should not tell you. But I can hardly keep
sending you out of the room everytime I touch on something sensitive." She tapped at a control on the keypad resting in front of her on the desk and the
hologram blinked into a map of the Inner Sphere, the Kerensky Cluster and the largely unexplored regions between them. "Obviously, the question that
remains is what do we do now. The other clans are committing themselves to a plan of invasion that, put mildly, is suicidal."

There was a moment of silence and then Tabitha smiled crookedly. "We are going to invade," she said simply.

Virgilia nodded. "Correct. The ilKhan believes that four clans can conquer the entire Inner Sphere. I am not sure if that is true, but
since he is bound and determined to try, we will be adding our strength to the invasion - our full strength, not the watered down armies that the other Clans
will send. And if one more clan can turn the tide then we will do so."

"Our full strength!?" asked Jared. "Khan Virgilia, if we do that then we will lose everything enclave we possess short of
Strana Mechty."

"Forgive me the hyperbole, Jared. We will take all our offensive forces, but you will retain sufficent warriors to hold onto at least a
core of our enclaves: Sheridan primarily, although the Dagda enclaves would be valuable. Most of the others are primary resource sites: useful but replaceable.
There is a reason that we have a large strategic reserve of raw materials that we do not let anyone know about, is that not so Holly?"

Holly Reisch, the Logistics Adjutant, simply smiled in confirmation and went back to reviewing the figures in the documents that she had
brought with her.

Roderick took up the explanation. "There are several plans for the invasion, but the one that seems to have the most promise, judging by
the intelligence from the ship that the Smoke Jaguars captured, is this plan: Pegasus Seven." Seven jagged lines appeared on the map, driving from the
Periphery into the Lyran half of the hourglass shape of the Federated Commonwealth.

"Seven seperate invasions?" Tabitha asked. "We only have five frontline galaxies."

"We will be reorganising the Galaxies, and their component Clusters," Roderick told her calmly.

"You will be doing what!?" Farhad N'Buta asked explosively.

"You heard me, Farhad," said Roderick, matching gaze with the younger N'Buta. "There are going to be seven Galaxies, each
with their own invasion zone, and each Galaxy will have six Clusters, somewhat smaller than the current standard. There will also be quite a large number of
garrison clusters that will be subordinated to a Galaxy, to secure the worlds that you conquer. This is not subject to debate, unless someone would like to
challenge me on the matter." There was a slight enphasis on the word challenge and Farhad visibly considered taking up the gauntlet that saKhan threw
down, before lowering his gaze.

Roderick nodded and then tapped a control on his own keypad. The map was replaced by an abstract display of brightly coloured daggerstars
that to a trained eye displayed the organisation of a Cluster of warriors. Grouped into four groups were the ground trinaries, each with three bloodred
daggerstars representing Stars of BattleMechs. In each trinary one of the red daggerstars had a green daggerstar attacked, indicating that it was not a Star
but a Nova, with a Star of Elementals paired to the BattleMechs. The fifth trinary was symbolised by three blue-white daggerstars - aerospace
fighters.

"This is a fairly typical cluster in our touman," Roderick confirmed to the officers. "Obviously, there are exceptions.
However, every Cluster in the invasion will be reorganised to look like this:" Below the previous diagram another popped into existence. It took a moment
to determine the differences: every Trinary had dropped one of its component Stars, and two of the Battlemech trinaries had replaced their infantry with orange
daggerstars.

"What the freebirth are those orange things supposed to be?" Tabitha asked irritably. It wasn't a colour that most of them had
ever seen used for this sort of diagram, although there were several other standard colours representing troop types not generally found in frontline
units.

"That... is a secret," Virgilia said. "Although not one that the other Clans are totally unaware of. Back when Gerik
N'Buta was first planning this, he made several challenges to make sure we would have access to all of the most advanced technologies available to the
Clans. One of the projects we managed to absorb was something that the Smoke Jaguar scientist caste were running without the full knowledge of their Clan
Council."

Farhad whistled. The Smoke Jaguars were noted for their treatment of the civilian castes, and not in any good way. That sort of initiative
was something that could have triggered an internal bloodbath if it came to light. "What were they up to?"

Virgilia swept away the diagram of two Clusters and replaced it with a hologram of what looked somewhat like a spindly BattleMech. To one
side, a scale revealed it to stand not quite six metres tall, a little more than waist high on a real Mech however. "The scientists call this a
'ProtoMech'," she told them. "We prefer to call them Asps, however."

"What can they do?" asked Tabitha. "Other than get stood on by real 'Mechs?"

"They can handle recon and screening roles just as well as a light Mech can," Duke told her. "It frees up our
resources."

Roderick nodded. "They are as fast as a Grendel or a Mist Lynx, can take one hit from even a Gauss Rifle and keep fighting and they pack
a single medium laser, which lets them take on the Inner Sphere's smaller Mechs on at even odds. Organisationly, we are deploying them like battle armour -
so every Cluster will have fifty of them."

"You have more than two thousand of these things?" Jared asked in astonishment.

"More than that. We will need to replace casualties after all," Virgilia said.

"How many factories do you have on this Sinclair?" Tabitha said, brow furrowed. "That is a lot of production."

"Enough," Duke Togo told her. "We hope."
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

Fort Kershaw

Sinclair

Periphery

23 July 3049

Sinclair, at least the region around Fort Kershaw, was rather warmer than the temperate latitudes of Sheridan where Mechwarrior Costigan had
been stationed three months ago as part of Kappa Galaxy. The dropship he had travelled the last leg on had turned up the interior heating to prepare him for
it, but it still wasn't quite the same as the muggy heat that provided a continual drain on Costigan's endurance. Presumably he would get used to it if
he stayed here long enough, but right now the prospect of a cooler climate was all the incentive that he needed to invade the Inner Sphere.

The jitney Costigan was driving shook slightly as it crossed over a grate that filled a gap in the fence surrounding the mech hangers. The
fence wasn't high enough to pose a hindrance to a BattleMech, or even a determined infantryman - it was principally there to make sure no livestock or
native life strayed into the compound, something that the grate provided at the entrance. The trailer behind the jitney was left immediately above the grate as
Costigan halted to check in with the gate guards - a pair of Elementals in full, if lightweight battle armor. The apelike suits didn't look impressive in
comparison to the armour that the young warrior had trained alongside back on Sheridan, but either one could have reduced jitney, driver and trailer to
wreckage in an instant with the powerful laser built into their right arm - and if that wasn't enough, two more suits and one of the extremely impressive
Long Fang suits were in reserve at the guardhouse. Even on this secure planet, Clan Star Adder treated their security seriously.

"What is your business?" the nearer of the two infantrymen asked, his voice stripped by the speakers of any tome that might
indicate boredom.

Costigan fished out a pass and held it out to them, the verigraphed plastic showing his identity, before pointing to the trailer with his
other hand. "Apparently half the survival kits in the last batch had spoiled food in them," he replied. "These are the replacement
kits."

The other warrior nodded, not surprised to find a warrior doing work that would normally fall to a technican or even a laborer. With the
demands of preparing for the invasion, even warriors not yet assigned to their units were being drafted to assist in the massive workload. "I heard about
that. Someone was careless." The two stepped aside to let Costigan open the throttle again and tow the trailer into the complex.

The supply rooms were located in the centre of the hangers, surrounded on all sides by the tall, barnlike buildings. It was a standard design
that was good for defense but also meant that Costigan had to detour through a hanger to reach his destination. The bays were all full of battlemechs being
worked on, older fixed designs rather than the reconfigurable omnimechs that were favored by the warriors of every clan. He recognised a pair of Warhammers and
Battlemasters, then a Marauder and several Assassins and Guillotines - the last two were the Star Adders own custom upgrades designs not seen off Sinclair. He
had piloted a more common variant of the Guillotine as part of Kappa Galaxy. It was the Mech at the end of the line that caught his eye however.

The grinning death's head of an Atlas had been renowned as one of the most feared sights on any battlefield since the last campaigns of
the Star League Defense Force and the upgraded models had served the Clans well in their early days. Even the first ilKhan had piloted one, right up until his
very death in the cockpit. Due to that very fact however, no example had been seen on the battlefield in Costigan's lifetime - except in the Inner Sphere,
of course. The continued raiding and occasional battles that punctuated the lives of the warrior caste had consumed every single one. Or almost, at any rate,
since it was inarguably an Atlas that Costigan saw here.

"Hey, enough rubbernecking!" a tech shouted, and Costigan started, realising he'd slowed to a halt in front of the machine.
"Don't worry about it," the woman sighed as she saw the daggerstar on the breast of his jumpsuit. "You warriors always want a look at this
beast."

"Where did it come from?" Costigan asked, ignoring the unseemly contraction. Techs talked like that and there was no use expecting
them to maintain the standards that warriors did unless it was a formal occasion.

"Terra itself," the technican told him and laughed at his evident disbelief. "You are looking, sir, at a genuine piece of
history. However, this Battlemech was built in the former Rim Worlds Republic after the SLDF conquered during the Amaris Coup and participated in the final
invasion of Terra. The pilot took it with him on the Exodus and it was assigned to the 146th Royal BattleMech Division - there are markings that prove
it."

"The next thing you will tell me," Costigan chuckled, "Is that this was..." He trailed off as he saw the tech nod.
"You are not serious. This was the great Nicholas Kerensky's battlemech? I would have expected it to be part of a Wolf memorial
somewhere."

She shrugged. "Perhaps they planned that, but we found it in a cache of damaged Mechs being stripped for parts. All the numbers match
up, and this is definitely the same machine. It's been more than sixty years since it was won from them, so presumably they had forgotten that it was
inside it. The Technican Caste funded rebuilding it to current standards for the invasion, as our gift to Khan Virgilia."

Costigan whistled appreciatively. "That is magnificent," he admitted. "But is the Khan not accompanying the main invasion
force of the other Clans in order to allay their suspicions?"

The technican shrugged. "What do I know about politics? The Khan sent it her with her Keshik, so this is where it is. When she wants it,
she'll send for it. Quiaff?"

"Aff," Costigan agreed and released the brakes, continuing with his delivery.



Cameron Continent

Sinclair

Periphery

27 July 3049

Costigan scowled out of the window of the hovercraft as it skimmed the coastal waters. The small convoy had set off late in the evening and
travelled all night, the warriors aboard it mostly dozing in their seats and it was still dark enough outside that Costigan could see his face reflected in the
mirror, pale hair shaved back from his temples for better contact with a neurohelmet and his usually pale skin pinker than he was used to as evidence of time
outside working once he reached Sinclair. Evidently time he would have better spent sucking up to officers, since the invasion force had been organised by the
simple means of having each commander appoint their immediate subordinates themselves.

As a result, the seven Galaxies that would make up the invasion forces were mostly made up of cliques and several hundred extremely
frustrated warriors were being shipped off to training bases scattered across the Cameron continent in preparation for assignment to garrison units or, if they
were lucky, the pool of replacements once casualties started depleting the frontline units.

Bored with looking at the open ocean, the only thing visible through the window on this side of the hovercraft, Costigan opened the technical
readout of his new ride and studied it. He'd hoped for one of the new Guillotine models if he couldn't get into an Omnimech, but instead his assigned
battlemech would be an Assassin. Like the Guillotine, the Assassin was built around an array of lasers, but where the larger battlemech was intended to hold
ground against an attack, relying on its armour to keep it alive while the powerful lasers saw off opposition, the Assassin was a fast strike unit. It would
make quite a difference to the tactics that he would have to use.

Costigan was just starting to examine the heat profiles when he felt the hovercraft shift course towards the land. Looking up, he saw other
warriors stirring. There were quite a mix inside the cabin - mechwarriors, elementals and even aerospace pilots. All of the latter and all but one of the other
mechwarriors had the obvious signs to show that they had been augmented with Enhanced Imagery systems to allow them closer control of their machines. It was
quite rare amongst the Elementals though. Costigan had considered undergoing the process himself a few times, but never quite felt that it was necessary - a
warrior should rely on his own skills, he believed.

The Star Commander at the front of the cabin obviously did not hold to this belief - the lines evident on his face as he rose and stared down
the compartment. "Wake up, all of you," he snapped. "It is time for you to be briefed on what we shall really be doing here."

Costigan frowned. 'What we shall really be doing'?

"My name is Oscar," the Star Commander advised them. "I am the commander of this detachment. Contrary to what you were earlier
advised, you have not been sent out here to sulk about your failure to be appointed to the invasion force."

"What will we be doing then?" a voice asked from behind Costigan.

Oscar smiled unpleasently. "For the next several weeks the invasion force will be undergoing a massive training exercise that pits
Alpha, Beta, Zeta and Iota Galaxies against the other three Galaxies. This is intended to accustom their warriors to working together in the new formations. In
order to also accustom our warriors to the honorless practises of the Inner Sphere, each side will be assisted by several small forces made up of warriors not
selected for the invasion. Ourselves being one such force."

"Just to clarify," Costigan asked. "Does this mean we will be shooting at the smug surats who have been lording their
selection for the invasion over us?"

"Only with training rounds and depowered lasers, unfortunately," said Oscar regretfully. "However, I am assured by Khan
N'Buta himself that any warriors in the invading Galaxies who do not demonstrate the standards expected of them will be reassigned for further training and
their places taken by warriors who demonstrate greater prowess as part of the irregular forces."

There was a rumble of approval from the warriors.

Oscar nodded. "Our unit is assigned as the 17th Independent Nova, a mixed Star of Battlemechs, Battle Armour and Asps. We have been
attached to Alpha Galaxy, which remains under the command of Duke Togo. In order to provide our comrades with a fair challenge, only Galaxy Commanders have
been advised of our presence. There will undoubtedly be many surprises for the invaders, so be prepared to offer an unpleasent surprise or two to the warriors
of Delta, Gamma and Epsilon Galaxies, as well as their own irregular warriors. Remember that the crueler we are to them, the better the training is for
them."

Costigan chuckled at the joke. "Is this everyone in the Nova?" he asked. "There are only twenty-eight of us, including
you."

"That is correct," confirmed Oscar. "Points One and Two will be made of Asps. The other three points will be made up of Fang
battle armour riding on our three battlemechs. You three -" he pointed at Costigan and two of the Mechwarriors, including the only other Mechwarrior not
displaying EI markings - "will all be piloting Assassins so we can deploy fast. Perfect for skirmishing, raiding and other fun diversions on the
battlefield. Of course, if any of you get killed in simulation, our infantry brethern will kill you for real since they will be reduced to their own pathetic
pace."

That remark elicited jeers from the Elementals and the newly formed Nova began to settle into a discussion of the best tactics to employ with
such a diverse force.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

Cameron Continent

Sinclair

Periphery

28 July 3049

The next day saw the 17th Independent Nova following a rough trail westwards away from the sea. The majority of settlement of Sinclair was
around a shallow gulf that sprawled across the eastern coast of Cameron, but a vast triangluar swathe of the interior more than three thousand kilometers long
had been set aside as a military reservation for training just like this. Dozens of military posts usually used for field testing and the occasional
sibko's training had been cleared for use by the Star Adder touman and for the next four weeks, the moutains, forests and grasslands would see warfare on a
scale all but unheard of for the Clans.

Costigan was moving swiftly, his Assassin easily eating up the road at over a hundred kilometers every hour even with the added burden of
five tons of battle armor riding on the outside of the forty ton battlemech. In front of him Oscar's Point One were in a loose v-formation across the road,
scouting for the formation just as Point Two were playing rear guard behind the other two Assassins.

The new battlemech - new indeed, for it was fresh from one of Sinclair's handful of battlemech factories only two months earlier - was
considerably more comfortable than Costigan had expected. As the technical documents had advised him, the designers had gone back to the original Star League
Defense Force designs brought on the Exodus and determined that many of the 'useless luxuries' dispensed with in more modern OmniMechs were in fact of
considerable benefit on an extended campaign. In theory, Costigan would not need to leave his cockpit for the next week or so, with the stock of rations, water
and the like that had been tucked into corners of the cockpit - although in practise, Oscar had been careful to ensure that they were all well-versed in the
resupply points set up in quiet co-ordination with Galaxy Commander Duke Togo's staff so that the irregulars could restock their food, water and other
consumables every few days if necessary.

It was late in the day that the small force reached the mountain valleys that seperated the coastal lands from the interior plains. For
obvious reasons there were no markers, but Oscar called a halt before they crossed the assumed boundary, the battlemechs and protomechs forming a loose circle
to one side of the trail. Costigan watched in fascination as the chestplates of the Asps unfolded enough for their pilots to emerge from the fetal positions
that they took inside the six metre tall warmachines and scrambled down into the laps of their rides. All looked disorientated and Oscar had to assist one of
them in dosing herself with the drugs to cushion the aftereffects of disconnecting.

"What could have persuaded you do this?" Costigan asked brashly, looking down from his cockpit's hatch.

"Come down here and say that, child," snarled one of the more alert of the proto-jocks, raising his fist menacingly. A former
aerojock, it should have looked foolish on his slight form but the fury in his eyes was impressive as he made for the Assassin.

Oscar swept his hand out to block the warrior from trying to ascend Costigan's Mech. "He is young, Saul. He does not
understand." He shifted his gaze up to Costigan. "The average age of an Asp pilot is forty," he told the Mechwarrior. "For us, it is this
or the ranks of the solahma. We have little to no hope of obtaining bloodnames. Only here, in these Asps, can we take one last chance at having our genes pass
on to the next generation. If the Asps prove worthy then the bloodname houses will want our blood to create new genotypes suited to them. Do not mock our last
chance to win glory."

Costigan looked away, embarassed, and then looked back. "I apologise, Warrior," he told Saul. "I do understand. My sibko was
the last produced using matrilineal seed from the Horstein bloodline before we lost our last bloodright in the House to the Hells Horses. Unless I can win a
Grand Melee where every other warrior is a member of another clan, I have no hope at all of a bloodname. Perhaps one day, I will make the same choice that you
have."

Saul grunted and nodded. "They are fine machines," he promised Costigan. "I can go places you can never take that giant of
yours. The Inner Sphere will learn to fear our bite."

"Yes," Oscar said. "But first we must teach this respect to our brothers and sisters. There will be a transmission tonight
from Duke Togo, giving us our first assignment."

Costigan considered what he recalled of the maps of the area loaded into their navigation computers. "Unless we are lucky enough that
both of the two nearest bases are picked for friendly clusters, we will probably be expected to scout them for him."

Oscar nodded. To simulate the fog of war, the forty-two clusters participating in the exercise had been deployed to bases randomly selected
from the hundred or so facilities scattered across the region. Since communication satellites in geostationary orbit provided secure communications, the only
way to find out if a base was empty or housed hostile warriors was to investigate, a role that the 17th Independent Nova was well suited for.

"The larger base would be a strategic position if we needed to control this valley," Saul observed, "But since the valley
sides are not steep enough to actually stop an attack and it only leads out of the training grounds, it is not very valuable. The smaller base is very
defensible though - only two routes lead to it and both are easily guarded. If we need to root someone out of it then it will be a tough job,
quiaff?"

"Aff," agreed Oscar. "We have both served here for several years," he reminded Costigan. "This is not the first time
that we have visited this ground to fight over it and Saul speaks truly. Kerensky himself would not wish to storm that fortress. It is high on a ridge, built
within a hollow and only one slope is shallow enough for a battlemech to scale. There is a crevasse at the rear large enough for our Asps or battle armor
however."

Costigan frowned. "Are the other slopes so steep that a BattleMech could not find footholds? I know that Assassins were tested here, and
there are few obstructions have no places that a jump of two hundred metres could not scale."

"Perhaps a place or two," Saul said thoughtfully. "But none where you could send many at once and all are easily covered by
the weapons of Battlemechs within the base."



Five hours later, the little column was moving on. It seemed that at the last minute, the seven Galaxy Command Stars had been deployed on
their own rather than with a Cluster. Duke Togo and the four handpicked warriors of Alpha Command had been dropped into the smaller of the two nearer bases.
Until the nearest Cluster arrived - well into the next day it seemed - they would be easy prey to any roving forces, even a unit as small as the
17th.

"Remember," Oscar said as they loped up the trail. "We are not there to take heads. Go crazy in there and I swear by
Kerensky's name that I will have you sent back to the Homeworlds. All we are to do is find out of the base is occupied or not. If anyone is there, then we
already know that they will not be friendly. Right now even one shot - however well placed - could be enough to betray us and by extension Galaxy
Command."

"I think we all picked that up the third time that you reminded us," Saul replied. "Stop scaring the younger generations. If
it was not for their Trials of Position I would think that they had not even been shot at yet."

"I have so!" protested Mackinnison, from the back of the line of Assassins that made up the core of the column.

Costigan sighed. The little band had been bickering for most of the last hour, since Togo's orders had arrived - something that was
probably driving Oscar even more up the wall than it was Costigan, since he hadn't been so repetitive yesterday. With all this radio chatter, it was
amazing that...

"We are idiots," Costigan said out loud.

"What?"

"Everyone switch to relaying our transmissions through the satellite," the young Mechwarrior ordered, "This channel is not
secure."

"What?" Saul said. "Look, youngster, this channel is triple encoded."

"In one of our own clan encryptions," pointed out Costigan. "Which everyone in the area has. On both sides."

"Freebirth..." Oscar whispered. "Do what he says." A moment later he continued on the more secure tightbeam. "And
turn around. If anyone picked that up then they will be heading right for the Galaxy Commander and that means we need to reinforce him right now. Good catch,
Costigan. I wonder how many people thought of that and kept it quiet to exploit now."

"Let us hope that if there is a Cluster at the next base, no one there had thought of it," Costigan said. "Send word to Duke
Togo - he needs to warn everyone of this straight away."

Oscar relayed the message on an open microphone so that everyone in the Nova knew what he was saying. "Good thinking," Duke
confirmed, clearly audible to them all. "Mechwarrior Costigan is the first person in Alpha Galaxy to raise that. Now that he has, I can warn the rest of
the force."

"You already knew about this?" Oscar asked in a stricken voice.

Duke's voice didn't vary from its usual cold tone. "A Galaxy Commander has more important things to do than to think for his
junior officers, Star Commander Oscar. My purpose in this exercise is less to defeat our opponents than it is to weed out the unfit from Alpha Galaxy. Better
to find them now than in true battle."

"That was cold," Costigan said when he was sure that the Galaxy Commander was no longer on the line.

Oscar's voice, in contrast to that of their Commander, sounded defeated. "He is a merciless commander, Costigan. Brilliant, but also
a perfectionist. It is no surprise that his genetic legacy is sought after."

"I doubt his company is."

Saul's voice was wry. "You might be surprised."
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

Cameron Continent

Sinclair

Periphery

29 July 3049

"You were right," Costigan noted, popping up from behind the cover of a rock face to unleash all five of the lasers mounted on his
Assassin into a Grendel that was trying to scale the rear of the base. "Duke Togo's company is very sought after." He had aimed for the left side
of the omnimech's chest, where his computer had painted a non-existant tear in the Grendel's chest, the result of a shot from one of the other
defenders.

Two of Costigan's lasers missed completely, but three more sliced deeply into it and the forty-five ton warmachine spun out of control as
a jumpjet cut out in response to the simulated damage. The Grendel hit the side of the ridge with a crunch that made it clear that the uncontrolled impact had
not been simulated, and slid several meters before the pilot managed to stabilise it and start edging for cover. The hit had done serious damage from the look
of things and even the lightest hit was likely to shatter the entire shoulder.

Costigan ducked his own Mech out of the way as the battle computer painted a simulated volley of long range missiles arcing towards his
position. They hit the rocks instead and if they had been real, even the near miss would have ruined his paint job, sending shards of granite flying. Behind
shelter, the young mechwarrior noted that the temperature in his cockpit, although it had risen noticably when he fired, returned to normal almost immediately.
The Assassin was a very efficient machine in that respect.

"It is not quite what I meant," Oscar admitted, his voice relayed from the crevasse a short distance away. The Asps and Fangs of
the 17th were doing their best to hold the narrow space against their counterparts from the 28th Dragoon Cluster, part of Delta Galaxy. "However, given
that not only are the 28th trying to get in here, but that it seems to be a race between the 10th and 206th Hussars over which of them gets here first, I am
not too proud to take the credit." The outcome of that race would decide a lot, since the 10th Hussars were part of Alpha Galaxy and the 206th were from
Delta Galaxy.

A tall Battlemech moved between two of the bunker-style hangers that lined this side of the base and after a moment's consernation,
Costigan realised that the battered Guillotine didn't have four gold stripes painted below the face of the cockpit, meaning that it belonged to one of Duke
Togo's subordinates rather than the Galaxy Commander himself. The heavy battlemech was missing its right arm from above the elbow down, leaving it without
the three lasers mounted there, and its chest was battered and torn from the battle at the other side of the base.

"Warrior Costigan," the other Mechwarrior called. "Duke sent me to take over here - the battle is hotter on the other side and
I have little armour left."

Costigan nodded. "Understood," he replied. "I to join him at the main entrance, quiaff?"

"Aff. The 206th Adder Hussars have been sighted," he added grimly. "And Duke does not expect the 10th Hussars to arrive soon.
Doubtless he has some strategm in mind."

"A strategm to overwhelm two clusters intent on destroying the eight BattleMechs and assorted infantry and Asps guarding this little
enclave or ours?" asked Costigan, stepping back to clear the gunnery spot.

The Guillotine stepped forward to take it, immediately bringing its left arm up to spear an unwary Adder, unwisely confident that it was safe
outside of the effective range of an Assassin's guns. The shot caught the left leg, but only one of the other two large lasers, these in the chest of the
heavy Battlemech, hit as they reached out, although it too caught the Adder's left leg. The simulated view showed armour shattering and the Adder limped
away quickly on a leg that seemed more of a stump than an effective limp. "More like how to gain some advantage from our deaths, I think," the
warrior said. "He is a calculating man, the Galaxy Commander."

Costigan's Mech didn't precisely scurry as he moved away from the edge of the base. "I understand," he said thoughtfully,
as much to himself as to the other man. He understood, but that degree of fatalism still bothered him.

The rest of the Command Star were holding the top of the slope against the Dragoons. Standing a little back from the edge, they were able to
target anything that reached the top. Costigan couldn't see the other Assassins, but he could see a Star of heavies - three Timber Wolfs and a pair of
Cauldron-Born - cresting the slope just as he walked into range. A storm of laser fire connected the two forces and Costigan could hear the hypersonic cracks
of Gauss Rifles being fired.

The first to fall was a Timber Wolf, the battlecomputer painting an indentation over the cockpit where one gauss rifle slug had done its
bloody work. One of the Cauldron-Born staggered as a Night Gyr unleashed its arsenal into it - paired railguns and lasers shattering both arms back to skeletal
frameworks.

The lone Warhawk among the defenders slumped back against the nearest support - a defense turret that had clearly been knocked out earlier in
the engagement - probably the victim of gyro damage since neither leg had serious damage to it. Leaning against the turret, it raised both arms and its second
volley tore the heart out of another Timber Wolf.

Costigan charged forward, forty tonnes of metal hurtling into the fray at over a hundred kilometers an hour. At that speed he covered the
distance in seconds. His medium lasers tore into the unsteady Cauldron-Born, shattering both arms and leaving it badly off balance. The heavy Mech almost fell,
but then it steadied and fired a salvo of forty missiles from the torso-mounted launchers. Most of the missiles missed Costigan, but divots were punched into
his chest armor by the half dozen that hit.

Then a volley of lasers slashed through the Cauldron-Born's right leg, shattering the thigh and dropping the Mech to the floor. Unable to
rise and with its last weapons aimed only at the ground, the pilot wisely powered down and surrendered. Costigan looked back and saw that the laser fire had
come from Duke Togo's Guillotine. The heavy Mech had clearly been clipped here and there by laser fire, but it was certainly the most intact of the Mechs
remaining.

None of those survivors were from the Dragoons. Besides the Warhawk, which Costigan could now see was missing large chunks of armour from its
front as it rose back to its feet, one of the Night Gyrs was down and since the pilot was exiting the cockpit, probably wasn't going to stand up again
without technical assistance. Or at least, confirmation to the battle computer that it could quit simulation mode and stop pretending that the reactor had shut
itself down in response to the damage. One Timber Wolf was not in sight, and he realised that it had retreated back out of sight.

The other two Assassins emerged from behind cover and Costigan realised that they'd been stationed out of sight where their lighter
armour would not be exposed to the first volleys of anyone reaching the top. "Take some cover," ordered Duke. "They are rushing up Mechs and
Asps from the 206th."

"Where are our Hussars?" Costigan grumbled as he complied.

-/-

"Kerensky damn that canny old snake," Star Colonel Mordecai Paik muttered as reports came back from what was left of his Fourth
Trinary. With almost a third of his cluster either disabled or damaged to the point that they wouldn't last another clash of battle, Mordecai had sent his
lame ducks back to their starting base under the escort of the Fourth's star of Asps. The campaign was scheduled to last for a clear month and conserving
his forces for it would be important.

Unfortunately, twenty-three Asps and a dozen damaged Mechs were no match for the full cluster of Alpha Galaxy Hussars that had appeared
almost from nowhere and snatched control of the base before sweeping up the damaged force. And now the same force was menacing his rear.

"Colonel Talasko," he commed the commander of his own Hussar allies on the Delta Galaxy command channel. "We have a
problem."

-/-

Assassins, Grendels and Mist Lynxes charged right into the teeth of Alpha Command's fire, followed by a swarm of Asps. The little beasts
were tough, Costigan noted as he saw an Asp struggling back to its feet after a simulated hit from a gauss rifle. He sprayed laser fire into the mass,
genuinely surprised that one shot missed. He wouldn't have thought that there was room in that mass for him not to hit something.

Nothing dropped when his lasers hit them, but they softened the Asps up nicely and halted their rush for a moment, just long enough to hinder
their larger brothers. Some of the Hussars slowed, making themselves targets for the heavy Mechs, and others didn't ploughing throught the Asps and doing
almost as much damage (none of it simulated) as the fire from Costigan had.

Duke Togo's two remaining Mechs proved why he had selected their pilots to fight alongside him. The leading Grendel went down, hard, as
simulated damage caused by the Warhawk's final volley cut through half its torso. The Night Gyr put a Mist Lynx on the floor a moment later, cutting a leg
off the Mech with its lasers. A second later and an Assassin was sent staggering, if not out of a fight then at least seriously weakened as both the
seventy-five tonner's gauss rifles caught it square in the centre of the chest. Costigan winced as he imagined what that would do to his own, essentially
identical, battlemech.

The Galaxy Commander was no slouch either. Using his jumpjets to hop out of the way of the incoming fire he unleashed an alpha strike that
left another Assassin little more than a smoking wreck. The air practically sizzled around the Guillotine, usually a very cold Mech to run, as the alpha
strike's heat combined with that caused by simulated damage to the engine shielding.

The Night Gyr fell, a dozen lasers from the Asps eating through what little was left of its armour. The gauss rifle coils detonating,
shattering the Mech's arms as the pilot tried to ride it to the ground. Costigan picked his target and blew a hole through the sternum of the last enemy
Assassin and out the back, reducing the gyro to so much wreckage. The Delta Assassin's own lasers tore away more than a ton and a half of his own armour,
which was paper-thin in places.

Another Assassin, so battered that if he hadn't been keeping count he would not have known which side it was on fell over, decapitated by
an Incubus's pulse laser. Duke Togo jumped behind the light battlemech and almost casually fired all the large lasers in his chest through its back.
Somewhere along the way, the arm mounted laser had been disabled, Costigan throught, or the heat inside the cockpit might be even worse than the IR readings
suggested.

The left arm went red and then abruptly black and Costigan felt his Mech stagger as the gyro adjusted for the loss of the arm. A Grendel, the
last Mech of the attackers, missed with its other large laser. With a snarl, Costigan opened the throttle and charged at it. He barely noticed feathering his
jumpjets to hop over the fallen Night Gyr but the impact of the Assassin's right fist crashing into the Grendel's visor was enough to rock him against
his five-point harness. The larger Mech reeled back, and then crashed backwards to the ground. It took a moment for Costigan to realise that the pilot must
have been knocked out by the impact.

In that moment, lasers from the remaining Asps dug deep into the rear of his Assassin and sweat ran down Costigan's face as he felt the
temperature rise. Engine hit, he noted. And the Gyro. Off balance, he flared his jets, jumping backwards, aiming for the cover of one of the disabled turrets.
He didn't quite make it, landing short and tumbling across the scarred concrete to wind up with his Mech sprawled and battered behind the cover he'd
wanted.

"Get up," Duke ordered, dropping a pair of Asps with the medium lasers in his right arm. The Guillotine loomed over Costigan
menacingly, computer generated smoke pouring from two of the jumpjets and a torso laser. It was a minor miracle that the Mech hadn't fallen over yet. It
took almost half a minute for Costigan to bring the Assassin upright, leaning against the turret as he fired all three remaining lasers into the closest
Asp.

And then they were gone. Gathering his wits, Costigan realised that a dozen Asps had jumped down the slope and out of sight of his position.
A second Guillotine was standing opposite him, lasers still pointing after the fleeing enemy warriors, Oscar and a dozen Asps and Fang battle armour suits from
the 17th flanking the machine.

"What happened?" he asked.

"The 10th arrived in their rear," Duke told him. "Delta is withdrawing to regroup. Good enough."
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

Cameron Continent

Sinclair

Periphery

5 August 3049

It had been almost a week since what had so very nearly been a successful decapitation of Alpha Galaxy's command structure and the
exercise had entered a phase of jockeying for position with only minor skirmishes between the two sides. Within hours of his close call, Duke Togo had sent the
17th - who had had barely enough time to carry out simulated repairs of their machines - out to follow the withdrawing Delta Galaxy clusters.

It was frustrating work, Costigan found. It had proven impossible to avoid letting the 16th Hussars know that they were being followed and
the Cluster had made several attempts at ambushes. None had worked, yet, but they hadn't escaped unscathed either. The Nova was down to only seven Asps and
eight Fangs as warriors had been 'killed' and required to leave the battle area, but the Hussars had taken at least as many losses, as well as several
cripples that were slowing their pace considerably. It was only the day before that contact had finally been broken, which left the Nova spread out trying to
find their missing opponents in this grand game.

In theory, aerospace fighters would be better for keeping tabs on the Mechs, but for that very reason after some reported clashes between
Zeta and Gamma Galaxy out on the plains, the main forces had shifted eastwards into the wooded valleys where fighters couldn't be sure of seeing their prey
unless they descended into weapons range. Besides which, both sides had lost a lot of fighters in those clashes and since a fighter that stopped flying
generally didn't survive contact with the ground, the kills weren't as likely to be salvaged and put back into the fray as a Battlemech was.

"Point One," Costigan told his voice activated transmitter and a second later a discreet blue dot appeared on the edge of his
neurohelmet's head's up display to indicate that the channel was open. "Oscar, Costigan here. Their tracks lead into the valley between ridges
seven-thirteen and seven-fourteen. Heat traces say less than an hour."

There was a pause before Oscar replied. "Point Five is at the other end of that valley, Costigan and there are no tracks. Is there a
suitable vantage point for the Fangs?"

Costigan looked up at the slope. "Ridge seven-thirteen looks favorable. Plenty of metal-bearing rocks." Those would mask the Fangs
against mag-scanners and even some heat-sensors.

"Stay on post," Oscar ordered. "Report any movement. Point Four will join you shortly." The blue dot vanished
immediately, showing that the channel had been cut.

It was only a few minutes before the compacted visual display behind Costigan showed another Assassin, this one carrying three of the
surviving Fangs. "Costigan, this is Catherine," the Mechwarrior signalled. "Have you sighted any of the enemy?"

"Neg," Costigan told her. "If I had, I would have warned you off."

"Do not snap at me," growled Catherine. "I do not want to lose my shot at a place in the invasion force because of your
carelessness."

"Pay attention to your own duties," replied Costigan, "And I shall handle mine."

"Both of you stop arguing like sibkids," growled the point commander, jumping his Fang off of Catherine's battlemech.
"Which of these ridges did you recommend, Costigan?"

Costigan used the right hand of his Assassin to point at the appropriate ridge and the Fangs bounded off up the slope. Once they reached the
top the three suits started scrambling along just below the crest, obviously not wanting their jump jets to alert their prey.

"It is all very well finding them," Costigan noted. "But there are not an lot of us. What are we supposed to do about two
Clusters when it comes down to it."

Catherine snorted, "It will not just be the eighteen of us, little serpent," she lectured him. Costigan recalled a creche minder
who had called the sibkids that from when he was about five. Catherine wasn't old enough to be that minder, but she was probably too old to have been
minded by the woman. Perhaps all creche minders called their charges that. "Duke Togo is out there with the 10th Hussars and the 31st Armored Cavalry from
Iota Galaxy. Once we find some good ground for him, he will lead us to crush them and Delta Galaxy will have lost a third of its strength."

"Two of their clusters against two of our clusters sounds depressingly like even odds. That usually means heavy losses whoever
wins."

There was a long pause and then Catherine chuckled reluctantly. "Maybe you are a Star Adder after all. That is why we want good ground
to fight on. And maybe another Cluster if we can sneak one into the area without them noticing."

Costigan nodded. "This is the sort of thinking that the other Clans do not approve of, quiaff?"

"Aff," the older mechwarrior agreed. "Well, some of them. The Wolves would be alright if they were not Coyote lovers, for
example. The Jade Falcons whine about our disrespect for their traditions everytime we defeat them though."

"Shameful," Costigan said in a wry voice. "The way that they disrespect our traditions."

Catherine sounded puzzled. "What tradition is that, little serpent?"

"Winning."

The older warrior's Assassin almost toppled over, she was so busy laughing.

-/-

"It is good ground," the infantryman reported. "Unfortunately it is good ground for them. They have a strong defensive
position facing across ridge seven-fourteen and a route of retreat over ridge seven-thirteen if they are attacked from either end of the
valley."

"Quiaff," Oscar agreed, presumably looking at the same display that was painted across a secondary monitor in Costigan's
cockpit: a view of the Delta deployments from a little behind their right flank. "But good defensive ground against who? They look like they are expecting
someone to come over seven-fourteen. Why would anyone skyline themselves like that? They would have to know that they were making themselves perfect
targets."

"Only if they know what they were facing," pointed out Catherine. "If someone just barrelled through without scouting then
they would receive a bloody nose at best."

Costigan frowned. "They must expect it to be fairly soon then," he said. "Is there anyone else near here that they might be
waiting for?"

"I had best find out," Oscar said and switched himself to a different channel.

"I think that he is learning bad habits," Saul muttered quietly on the Nova's channel. "He cannot possibly think that we
will not find out what he learns in short order."

There was a chuckle from Catherine. "I think he is more concerned that we might hear Duke Togo castigating him over not reporting this
an hour ago."

"We did not know where they were an hour ago. They very probably were not there an hour ago, quineg."

"Neg," Saul confirmed. "But Togo is a perfectionist."

-/-

Duke Togo's face was expressionless, as was almost (but not quite) always the case, as he listened to his report. "Hold for further
orders," he said flatly as he watched the last stragglers of the 471st Adder Guards Cluster - well, the last mobile stragglers - vanishing over ridge
seven-twelve, with the lead elements of the 10th Adder Hussars in hot pursuit.

The 10th Hussars, and the 87th Dragoons, who had managed to link up with him three days before, had been chasing the Epsilon Galaxy cluster
ever since a nasty closing engagement that had left almost a quarter of the Hussars designated dead or limping back to the nearest field base for repairs under
the protection of an independent Trinary of Asps that Duke had held in reserve for just such an occasion. The outnumbered 471st had been even more roughly
handled but withdrew in good order. That order bore all the signs of being on the brink of turning into a rout over the next hour, but now it seemed that it
had all been a facade.

"Ivar Hutchinson," he ordered the 10th's Star Colonel. "Break off pursuit. Do not climb the next ridge."

Hutchinson's voice was obnoxiously ebullient and crystal clear as he replied: "Please repeat that, Galaxy Commander. There appears
to be some interference in your communication."

Duke's eyes narrowed and he ran his Guillotine forward to the bottom of seven-twelve. "Deploy the Dragoons along this ridge,"
he ordered without specifying who he was addressing, and then jammed both feet down on his footpedals. Both hit designated stops beneath them, alerting the
sophisticated computer systems of the heavy battlemech that this instruction was not about the legs but instead another mode of travel. With a roar, the potent
jumpjets built into the back of the Guillotine fired, hurling Duke and his Battlemech more than twenty metres up the slope.

The main data display of any Battlemech covers a one hundred sixty degree arc in front of the pilot, by convention that dates back the very
first revolutionary days when the BattleMech emerged as the kings of the Inner Sphere's battlefields. Rather than only displaying that relatively narrow
slice of the Mech's surroundings however, they compress a three hundred and sixty degree view by more than half of its width. Therefore as Duke fired his
jumpjets again, reaching the summit of the ridge, he could see the 87th Dragoons fanning out obediently behind him, and the four Mechs that made up his command
star doing their best to keep up with him.

Ahead of him, Ivar Hutchinson's Grendel was in the lead of an unruly pack of Hussars that had already reached the bottom of the next
valley and were chasing the remaining Guards. A handful of the more damaged 471st Mechs had fallen, but there were still more than twenty Mechs scaling the
slope ahead of them and Duke Togo could well imagine the reception they would have: nearly two Clusters of their allies waiting for Hutchinson to crest the
hill and make himself a perfect target.

If Duke Togo had ever been less than decisive, it was a secret best known only to himself. His Guillotine's feet had barely crunched into
the top of the ridge before the large laser in the left arm of the Mech was sweeping up and the crosshairs that marked his aiming point glowed gold as they
were rested smoothly upon his target.

For a moment the 10th Hussars came to an abrupt halt as Ivar Hutchinson's Grendel tumbled forwards, all systems shutting down as the
battle computers painted a simulated hole through the back of the cockpit. There were very few warriors in the touman who didn't know what that meant.
Someone had shot their Colonel in the back and if the laser had been at full power, then the Hutchinson bloodname house would have been announcing a Trial of
Bloodright in the immediate future.

"The 10th Hussars will form a line one hundred metres in front of the 87th Dragoons," Duke ordered the senior remaining officer of
the Hussars, his Guillotine standing where every member of his force could have no doubt of who had fired the shot. "Star Captain Hannibal Banacek, you
command the Hussars now."
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

Fort Kershaw, Sinclair

Periphery

1 January 3050

The weather was absolutely perfect for the parade - the blue sky marked only by a few high, thin clouds and promising no adverse weather. Of
course, it was late summer in Sinclair's southern hemisphere rather than the mid-winter being experienced on distant Terra. Flags all around the huge,
amphitheater-like parade ground were fluttering in the wind. The Clans did not place great weight upon the ability of their infantry to march in close
formation, but sometimes it was appropriate for them to display their martial might to their civilian castes and... others. For this reason, most of their
enclaves had an open space suitable for the garrison to gather and display their full strength, even if that ground was more typically used for other
purposes.

The parade ground at Fort Kershaw was more typically used as a space port. The terrain around the fort and the associated civilian settlement
had few flat spaces large enough to be used by more than one or two dropships. Therefore, as the population grew and the required traffic for any invasion
became apparent, steps had been taken to provide such a place. Tiered plateaus had been carved into the side of a mountain overlooking the Fort, broad enough
for even the largest dropship to land upon and unload. Sloped roadways large enough for even the broadest of labormechs (or battlemechs) cut between the
tiers.

Today, those tiers were filled not with dropships but with people. The outer edges held spectator seating that was already filled by an
unprecedented number of civilians - perhaps as many as a quarter of the entire population of Sinclair. The central space of every one of the five tiers was
occupied by the people who were the heart of the clans.

Gathered together in numbers that had virtually never been seen on Strana Mechty and never from a single Clan, were more than sixteen
thousand Warriors, wearing the black leather and white silk of their dress uniforms. They did not stand in dressed ranks however. Behind each was their
warmachine - hundreds of battlemechs and aerospace fighters, tanks and helicopters; thousands of Asps and suits of battle armour, each painted in the black and
dark blue of Clan Star Adder, trimmed in the colours of their respective Galaxies.

Costigan could hardly have been happier about the golden trim of Alpha Galaxy visible on his Assassin as he stood at the back of the lowest
tier, looking across at the small podium in front of a holo-projector that would ensure that everyone present would be able to see the speaker. A speaker who
was just arriving it would seem, he noted as he saw a broadshouldered warrior emerge from the Fort and walk in front of the line of seated Galaxy Commanders
and other senior officers to the podium. As he stepped up behind it, the holo projector lit up and the head and shoulders of Roderick N'Buta were projected
fifty metres high above the saKhan's head.

"Greetings, warriors," he declared, and then nodded left and right, acknowledging the civilian castes without words. A cheer went
up from the more demonstrative members of the crowd.

"Two hundred and sixty-five years ago, our ancestors followed the Great Aleksandr Kerensky in a mighty Exodus from an Inner Sphere
already falling into war as its leaders fell upon the remains of the Star League like jackals."

"Two hundred and forty-seven years ago, our ancestors followed the Great Nicholas Kerensky out of the Pentagon Worlds, consumed by the
ancient jealousies that had been brought with us from the Inner Sphere."

"Two hundred and twenty-eight years, our ancestors returned to the Pentagon, forged into the Clans of Kerensky. There we created a new
order, building it upon the ashes of the ruins that had followed from the disasters of the Pentagon Civil War."

"In the Inner Sphere, Succession Wars have reduced the treacherous regiemes of the former Lords of the Star League to barbarity. Now we
shall return, now we shall build new order on the bones of their squalid kingdoms."

"This year we return to the Inner Sphere!"

There were more cheers now, a cacophony of shouting and simple exultaion from not only the civilians but also the warriors. Costigan was
among those shouting. The exercises months before had been followed by a winnowing of the organised galaxies as those who had not performed to the satisfaction
of their commanders were discarded. No one had been safe - Duke Togo had discarded one of his Star Colonels, promoting a Star Captain to command the 10th
Hussars. It was on the Galaxy Commander's advice that virtually all of the 17th Independent Nova had been brought in by Star Colonel Hannibal Banacek to
fill spaces left when the new broom swept several other warriors out of sincures that they had held more due to long aquaintance with Ivar Hutchinson than any
particular merit.

In retrospect, Costigan realised that the exercise had served a very real purpose besides simply testing the fitness of the invasion forces.
There would have been enormous resentment if Galaxy Commanders and Star Colonels had simply vetoed the choices of their subordinates when forming the units. By
doing so after a field exercise of such thoroughness when some of their choices had come back to haunt the junior officers, they had given everyone a chance to
prove their value and the reasons behind such an shake up. In many cases, the reorganisation had not even been decreed but simply followed from Star Captains
and Star Commanders realising their errors. There had even been some memorable fist fights as officers fought impromptu trials to see who would recruit a
warrior who might have distinguished himself during the simulated war.

There had been smaller exercises since then, more gruelling than any of the short Trials that Costigan had experienced since his Trial of
Position. Galaxy versus Galaxy and Cluster versus Cluster as the Star Colonels hammered their commands into shape and then honed the edge of their warriors.
And all this led to today and the announcement that they were expecting.

"Over the last six months," Roderick N'Buta declared, "The seven Galaxies that will particpate in the invasion have vied
not only for pride but also for the highest of prizes: to be allocated the invasion corridor of their choice." His image disappeared, replaced by a
graphic display of the Lyran Commonwealth. Glowing red lines sliced deeply into it. "I will now announce the assignment of these invasion
corridors."

Somewhat theatrically, as if he had not been intimately involved in the decision making process, Roderick produced an envelope from the
podium and opened it to extract the assignments. "Zeta Galaxy is assigned... the New Capetown corridor!" he called. The most coreward of the red
lines was marked on the hologram by a bold Z. Unsurprising, Costigan noted. While the flank corridor was one of the more risky, Zeta included the Command
Keshik and placing it on the flank would give Khan Virgilia readier access to the Keshik once she returned from the rest of the invasion force.

"Iota Galaxy is assigned the Bolan corridor!" Now that was a surprise. The saKhan would be accompanying Iota Galaxy, since that was
where his Quasar Keshi was posted, but the Bolan corridor was the second most rimwards which would not give him a central position to ease his communication
with the other Galaxys. Still, Bolan was not one of the most prestigious corridors.

"Epsilon Galaxy is assigned the Tangua corridor." Costigan winced for the warriors of Epsilon. The nearest corridor to Sinclair, it
was also the shortest corridor, flanked by Zeta's New Capetown and the Coventry corridor, which would converge quickly. At that point, Epsilon would have
to move into a reserve postion.

"Delta Galaxy is assigned to Carlisle corridor." Another corridor that would not have been Costigan's preference. He noted with
growing delight that only three corridors remained to be allocated: the Alarion and Coventry corridors were both greatly desired as they would be able to
attack earlier, picking off periphery colonies outside the Commonwealth before the real invasion began. However, the real prize would be the Cavanaugh
corridor, located directly on the border with the Free Worlds League. The Galaxy that had that position would be watching the flank of the entire invasion
against an entire Successor State - a truly awesome responsibility.

"Gamma Galaxy is assigned the Alarion corridor." The information that had been made available was that that world, once the heart
of the Lyran Navy had very little left of it's yards. Restored they would be invaluable to the massive logistical challenges of the invasion as it reached
deeper into the Inner Sphere. It also left only two more corridors, so the last announcment would decide the issue.

"Beta Galaxy is assigned the -" for a moment Costigan thought that the saKhan was going to pause dramatically, but he continued
evently "- Coventry corridor." Costigan whooped triumphantly. Alpha Galaxy would have the extreme right flank of the invasion, facing the toughest
oppostion in the early waves and would be on the forefront if House Marik had a sudden inexplicable urge to offer aid to their Steiner rivals.

He couldn't hear Roderick N'Buta over the cheering as a capital A appeared on the holomap to confirm the assignment. But Costigan
simply could not have been happier with his lot in life than he was at that moment.



Avalon City, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

13 Februrary 3050

"Good morning Justin," Hanse Davion said, looking up his breakfast. Beside him at the small round table in their apartments,
Melissa Steiner-Davion also smiled in greeting and gestured for the Secretary of Intelligence to take one of the vacant seats. Her face was questioning however
as she refilled her coffee and then passed the carafe to her husband. It was standard practise for Justin Xiang-Allard to brief one or both of the royal couple
every morning with the latest reports from official and unofficial sources across the Inner Sphere. For him to interrupt them during their breakfast was
considerably less likely.

"Melissa, Hanse," Justin smiled, taking the offered seat and setting several briefing documents down between the cutlery.
"I'm sorry to disturb you so early, but you asked to be informed as soon as we heard anything more about the periphery raiders."

Melissa paused, her cup halfway to her lips. "Has there been any news of Phelan?" she asked sharply. It was six months to the day
since her young second cousin Phelan had disappeared after a clash with unknown combatants during what should have been a routine skirmish against one of the
many pirate bands that plagued the Periphery worlds. The final transmissions from the mechwarrior had sent a furore through the New Avalon Institute of Science
once the Ministry of Intelligence released details to them. Despite every effort by the Inner Sphere's finest scientific institution, no one had been able
to determine how the extraordinary performance of the attacker's battlemech had been achieved. Even the advanced materials and technological secrets of the
former Star League that NAIS had been able to unravel could not explain the speed and power of what analysts had dubbed the Mad Cat, for it's resemblence
to both the Marauder and the Catapult battlemechs.

Justin shook his head quickly. "No Melissa, I'm afraid not. There have, however, been some new reports." He moved a jug of
orange juice aside to pass a report to Hanse, then poured himself a glass while the First Prince perused it. "The original raids only hit the Oberon
Confederation and the other pirate worlds around them. At least, those are the only attacks that we are aware of. None of those worlds have been heard from
since. ComStar's Explorer Corps have stopped sending ships out in that direction - the only ship that went out that way since the fighting began came back
unscathed but they've been quite close mouthed about what they found out there."

"You don't think that ComStar was behind the raids?" Hanse interrupted sharply. "We know that they have advanced
battlemechs from the Star League and have equipped their ComGuards with them. If these raids were intended to test a new design..."

"That is one of the theories that is being considered," Justin admitted. "The fact that the fighting seems to have ended after
Phelan's report makes it plausible - ComStar must have been aware of the contents of the message when the Kell Hounds sent it with the report but
they're too smart to have altered or deleted it - as long as the Kell Hounds had escaped, it wouldn't have done anything but buy them time at the cost
of confirming our suspicion. However, there is no positive information to confirm the theory so for now it's only speculation."

He sipped the orange juice as Hanse passed the report to Melissa. "To summarise the report, a jumpship trading with Gillfillan's
Gold jumped into the Hinckley system two days ago without their dropships. The captain reported that a small flotilla jumped in at a pirate point while his
dropships were grounded and at least two dropships - possibly Overlords - landed. Since the planet has no real armed forces, it was over in hours. The guards
on his dropships put up a token resistance but there was nothing that they could do about two battalions of BattleMechs. They did manage to report what they
were up against though."

The First Prince and the Archon both nodded grimly as Justin passed over the image of a Mad Cat, this one painted in woodland camouflage
rather than the simple grey shown in Phelan's last transmission. "The jumpship captain is ex-Lyran fleet," Justin added. "Retired after the
Fourth Succession War and worked his way up the the merchantman's crew. When he lost contact with the Dropships he jumped back to the Commonwealth and
contacted the local military command."

"Gillfillan's Gold is five hundred light years from the last known sighting of the Raiders," Hanse said thoughtfully.
"Sounds as if they relocated after Phelan sent his warning. Two battalions is a respectable force, but... isn't there a pirate band that large out
there?"

"Morrison's Extractors," confirmed Justin. "However, current reports don't give him any Overlord dropships and
Morrison's never shown off any Mechs that we haven't verified as old Star League equipment. The theory is that he found a cache left by the old SLDF
from their campaign against the Rim Worlds Republic, or perhaps even from the Reunification War. This Mad Cat is very different. NAIS have combed through their
archives and they have nothing like it. I presume you've seen Doctor Pardoe's analysis?"

"Thirty-four tons of weapons, a forty ton fusion reactor and fourteen tons of armor - but somehow it only weighs seventy tons?"
Hanse asked. "Even with Star League lightweight materials we couldn't build something that fast and well armed unless the armour was paper thin, which
it definitely isn't. I wouldn want to fight one of those."

"Nor would I," the former Champion of Solaris VII and one of the most renowned mechwarriors of his generation agreed. Justin shook
his head. "If Morrison had a force of Mechs like this then he wouldn't be making penny ante raids in the Periphery. He'd be hitting our Periphery
March and Marshal Steiner-Davis would be screaming for reinforcements."

Hanse Davion frowned. "I would rather that matters didn't reach that stage," he said. "We have some good troops out there,
but against Mechs like this things could get messy in a hurry. Perhaps we should send some reinforcements out there now rather than wait."

"Apart from the fighting on Aubisson, Skye has settled down," Melissa observed thoughtfully. "Sending a less experienced unit
out to the periphery for seasoning would be reasonable, but I don't think that it would be sufficient if these raiders are as dangerous as you
say."

"There are four Lyran Guards regimental combat teams in Skye," Hanse suggested. "We could move three of them out to the
Periphery and then move one of the Republican regiments out of the Sarna March to cover for their absence. I don't think Aubisson is likely to flare into
the Fifth Succession War any time soon."

"Hanse," Melissa said in a warning voice and nodded towards Justin.

Justin smiled and Hanse could see that he was tired. He had probably been up all night collating these reports, the Prince noted. He's
not getting any younger... and I'm older than he is. "I'm sorry Justin. I'd forgotten Kai was posted to the Lyran Guards."

"I'm not worried about Kai," Justin said. "Well, no more than any soldier's father should be. He's a fine
mechwarrior and he has one of the best Mechs in the Inner Sphere. Besides, the 10th are due for a rotation where they can pick up some experience so moving
them would be an excellent cover for moving, say, the 11th and the 19th Lyran Guards out to the Periphery. It would leave Denebola a little short, but I
don't think Thomas Marik is likely to lose his head and invade if we move the 5th Republican over from Elgin to Callison."

"That would build the Periphery March up to twenty-two regiments," Hanse agreed. "If the 10th replace the 6th Lyran Guards on
Althastan then that would give Marshal Steiner-Davis three of our best regimental combat teams to go looking for trouble out there. I don't think any two
battalions in history could possibly withstand that many troops, no matter how advanced their technology is."

"I'll send a note to Morgan," he decided after Melissa reluctantly nodded her head. "And he can cut the orders. That
should place the Guards out there by mid-April." The Prince's lips quirked. "Hohiro Kurita, Victor and now Kai off to the Periphery. Perhaps we
can avoid another major war in my lifetime after all."
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

Dropship Juno, Assault Orbit, Poulsbo

Tamarind March, Federated Commonwealth

20 March 3050

Costigan was in his cockpit long before the Juno reached low orbit over Poulsbo. Star Colonel Hannibal Banacek had ordered all personnel to
be ready for the drop as soon as Alpha Galaxy's little fleet had arrived at the pirate point. With a single moon, there were five such points around
Poulsbo and since full astronomical data from the Star League's archives had been taken with the Star League Defense Force when they left the Inner Sphere
it had been no great challenge for the Star Adders to jump inside the orbit of the Moon, only a few hours from Poulsbo rather than the eleven days that it
would take to reach the world from the usual jump points well above the star's gravity well.

Like every other Mechwarrior in the force, Costigan was wearing a padded jumpsuit with medical sensors lines of coolant running through it.
Once plugged into his command chair, the suit began circulating the coolant, giving him an unpleasent crawling sensation as the suit drew away his body heat.
He had heard other warriors refer to the feeling as having worms crawl over them and didn't find the image particularly amusing. Once the Assassin warmed
up he would be glad of the coolant. Although the medium battlemech had enough heatsinks to handle the full burden of firing all five lasers, even while using
the jumpjets at full power, it still took time to disperse the heat and the temperature inside his cockpit would rise accordingly.

Reaching back behind the command couch, Costigan lifted down the neurohelmet stored there and took a moment to make sure his hair was secured
at the nape of his neck where it wouldn't interfere with the fit of the helmet. As the only thing cushioning his precious head against the more or less
inevitable knocks and bumps, the last thing that he wanted was a poor fit that would leave his head bouncing around the inside of the helmet. Satisfied, he
donned the helmet and adjusted it to ensure that it had good contact with his temples. The neurohelmet's sensors would detect brainwaves, particularly
those related to the ears and help the sophisticated computers strung through the battlemech to keep the ten metre tall warmachine balanced even while running
or jumping.

Finally sure that he was ready for action, Costigan closed the five point harness that held him into the couch and hit the primary ignition
for the fusion reactor. As the multi-ton reactor rumbled through its activation, sending waves of heat through the cockpit, Costigan went through a series of
security locks that prevented any bandits or disaffected lower castes from making off from a battlemech that could potentially level a small city simply by
walking through one without a skilled pilot. By long tradition the final security step was a short verbal phrase that would be matched against both a recording
of his voice but of the brainwaves being detected by the neurohelmet. Some warriors chose high flown phrases or quotes from the Rembrance, the oral history of
the Clans. When he set the code for this battlemech, mindful of Clan Star Adder's purpose, Costigan had chosen something he found fitting.

"Now we return from whence we came," he told the computer and it lit up, lights from a half hundred displays detailing the status
of his Assassin. For the moment, Costigan refrained from taking the safeties off his weapons - wrapped inside a drop cocoon, he would not be able to use them
and an accidental discharge could only endanger him if it damaged the thermal shield that would guard him during re-entry. He brought every other system to
full readiness however.

"Star Commander, I am ready for action," he reported.

Star Commander Rebecca was only a year old or so than Costigan but she'd passed her Trial of Position with two kills and the previous
Colonel of the 10th Hussars had recruited her out of Kappa Galaxy before the exercises. All things considered, Costigan would have preferred to be assigned to
Oscar but the 10th didn't have official Novas, so Oscar commanded Trinary Delta's Star of ProtoMechs while Costigan would have to suffer under Rebecca
in the the second Battlemech Star of Trinary Gamma.

"Secure for the drop then," Rebecca ordered. "The Star Colonel will be giving the final briefing in a few
minutes."

Sure enough, a moment later, Hannibal Banacek's voice came across the Cluster command channel. "Warriors," the Star Colonel
announced. "We have arrived in orbit of Poulsbo, Alpha Galaxy's first target of the invasion. Already we have been challenged by the defenders of this
world: the 42nd Avalon Hussars and we expect their aerospace fighters to attempt an interception as we are dropped. On the ground, we will face a regiment of
their battlemechs, three regiments of armoured vehicles and several regiments of infantry."

"For this purpose the Galaxy Commander has assigned four Clusters, all of which will be dropping onto Tammerfors continent as planned.
The role of the 10th Hussars remains as a reserve against unexpected attacks. However, the planet's hyperpulse generator has been detected in the city of
Bangor Heights. Trinary Gamma will be dropping onto the station in order to silence it. Take control if you can, but destroy it if need be. The updated drop
data is being sent to your machines now and as the rest of the Cluster will be deploying with the rest of the Galaxy, Binary Epsilon will provide dedicated
cover to Gamma's drop." Epsilon, the 10th Hussar's aerospace complement, was made up of twenty Issus light aerospace fighters which should be
ample fighter cover for the trinary.

Without any more ceremony, Hannibal Banacek ended the briefing and Costigan felt the Juno shudder as it detached from the Star Lord-class
jumpship that had carried the 10th Hussars, the 191st Adder Guards (who would not be part of the invasion) and two Garrison Clusters from Sinclair along the
edge of the Inner Sphere and then between the Lyran worlds and the territory of the piratical Circinus Federation to reach this world. It would be only a few
hours before the Juno reached a close enough orbit for her passengers to disembark and complete their journey to Poulsbo's soil.

-/-

"Who the hell are these guys?" Randolph Chaufee grumbled as his Sparrowhawk rocketed skywards behind the wing leader. He'd been
looking forward to a week of rest and recreation (or intoxication and intercourse as the unofficial version had it) on the beaches and in the bars of
Tammerfors, only for all personnel to be recalled before he'd even reached Fort Bangor's gates. The Fortieth Federation Attack Wing's Stukas had
already been rumbling off the ground before he'd been briefed.

"There have been rumours of trouble in the Periphery," the Old Lady said absently as she led her wing in pursuit of their heavier
brethern. They would rendevous in low orbit and then 160th Crucis Interceptor's Sparrowhawks would be guarding the heavily armed Stukas as they made attack
runs on the incoming dropships. "I guess it's finally spilled over into the Inner Sphere."

The last vestiges of the atmosphere fell away behind them and Randolph stiffened as he saw a short-lived star that didn't belong in any
of Poulsbo's constellations. "Major, you'd better talk to the Forties, because I think they're already mixing it up with the bad
guys."

"How truly good," the Russian woman retorted grimly. "Good eyes, Randolph. Ivanova to all pilots - it looks as if our guests
have arrived early. Let's find out if the Forties have got their dance cards filled or if there is room for us." She opened her thrusters and the
little fighter leapt ahead, nineteen others just like it in hot pursuit.

"Foxtrot Actual, this is Charlie Actual, what is your situation."

"Charlie Actual, this is Foxtrot Eleven. Foxtrot Actual bought the farm. These guys are cutting us apart. They've got the speed to
stay out of our lasers range but it isn't hurting their reach at all."

"Roger that, Foxtrot Eleven. The cavalry's here."

Accelerating at more than seven gravities towards the dogfight, Randolph saw three more explosions signalling more deaths. Two of them looked
like Stukas, but the last looked like a smaller fighter, one without ammuniton bins to be destroyed.

Ivanova cut across the path of one of the invaders as it twisted away from a revenge-minded Stuka and for a moment the craft flashed across
Randolph's viewscreen. He fired reflexively and the medium lasers in the nose of his fighter drew furrows through the unmarked fighter's armour. It was
relatively broad, he noted, with wide wings and a snub-nose. Two weapons were mounted in the wing-roots. Then the fighter was past him and he rocketed through
the same space, following his wing leader as she closed in on another of the fighters.

The enemy didn't have the same agility as the nimble Sparrowhawks, but the margin was not as great as Randolph would have liked, the
aerospace fighter twisting and turning to evade their guns, while also trying to bring its own to bear. The deadly contest swept across a similar match where
two Sparrowhawks fought to drive a pair of the enemy away from a clearly damaged Stuka. The added vectors threw both contests into disarray as the fighter that
Randolph had been chasing fired both the wing-root weapons into one of the other Sparrowhawks as they closed, despite the extreme range.

"Blake's blood!" he exclaimed as he saw that both shots had hit the wing squarely and all but torn it off. "Those lasers
have a lot of punch!"

"Hit them back!" the Old Lady snapped and rolled to bring her own lasers into play against one of the enemy fighters. "Damn
them," she added after a moment. "How much armour do they have?"

Randolph couldn't shake his head, there was too much pressure on his neck for that during the high-G turns that they were pulling.
"It can't be that much!" he protested. "Not moving that fast and with lasers that heavy." It was the immutable triad of any military
hardware: armour, speed and weapons. To increase one required that it be done at the expense of one or both of the others.

"I hit it right on the nose where it had already been damaged and I didn't even penetrate," he was told. "All fighters,
this is Charlie Actual. Head for the atmosphere - we can't do anything up here, we'll try to hit them again once they enter the
atmosphere."

-/-

Quite unaware of the brief battle that had raged in space, Costigan was dozing in his command couch when the five minute warning sounded. The
harsh squeal jerked him awake and his hands were on the controls before his eyes were entirely open.

"Five minutes," the Juno's commander reported. "Five minutes to Drop Point One."

Drop Point One was where Trinary Gamma would be dropped. The rest of the Cluster would be waiting for Drop Point Two, which was calculated to
place them behind the rest of the Galaxy.

"Star Captain Konrad to all Trinary Gamma Warriors," the unit commander ordered. "Final equipment check. If anything is broken
after this point then don't expect sympathy when you hit the planet at terminal velocity."

Costigan checked his status boards but everything aboard the Assassin was showing as green. Those systems he could check for himself while
inside a drop cocoon were also functioning perfectly, which he reported to Rebecca, who somehow seemed disappointed to hear that.

The Juno was creaking slightly as the hull was touched by the uppermost traces of the atmosphere. Costigan adjusted his straps carefully. It
wasn't his first drop - warrior training included simulations and one live drop - but it was the first into combat.

"Entering Drop Point," the voice of the technican running the drop advised them all. "First drop... now." The Juno rocked
around Costigan and for a moment he thought that he'd been dropped first, rather than second as he had expected. Then he realised it was merely ship
adjusting for a hundred or so tons of its cargo being suddenly removed. A moment later his stomach fell out towards Poulsbo and his Mech followed, the whisper
of the atmosphere against the Junos hull replaced by the howl as it bit into the ablative shielding wrapped around the Assassin.

The fall seemed endless. Sensors could not have operated through the shields without fatally compomising them so Costigan was falling blind.
Even the estimated altitude displayed on one of his monitors was just that: an estimate, based on the altitude of the Juno when it dropped him and the expected
rate at which he would fall under Poulsbo's gravity.

Thus, he was relieved to hear the sharp cracks of explosive bolts as the computer determined that either the heat of re-entry had reached a
survivable level or that the shields had been so worn down that they weren't safe to retain and he'd be better off taking his chances, such as they
would be if the shields failed during re-entry.

The computer quickly reset the altimeter now that it was able to see for himself. They were a little higher than expected - probably someone
had miscalculated Poulsbo's gravity slightly - but the temperature was well within the safe zone and what did another thousand metres matter when at best
you had another eighteen kilometres to fall? Costigan felt the Assassin begin to tumble and then there was a jerk as the parachutes attached to the Mech's
shoulders deployed. A simple parachute couldn't bring forty-tons of BattleMech safely, but it could halt the tumble before it really began and bleed off a
little of the speed that had built up through the fall. The Assassin stabilised with feet pointing straight down. All Costigan could see below were clouds.
Hopefully no one had screwed up on the drop zone - there was a lot of water on Poulsbo and if he wound up in the middle of the ocean then he had better hope he
could reach the shore before he ran out of air.

Putting the possibility from his mind, he took the safeties off his weapons and began to search the air around him for any sign of the
defender's aerospace fighters.

-/-

"The enemy are dropping troops over Bangor," Randolph told the other pilots in the amalgamated wing that was all that was left of
the 42nd Avalon Hussars Aerobrigade. The Old Lady hadn't made it out of the furball and nor had four of the six squadron leaders. Technically command
should have gone to Captain Harris, but everyone knew that he had a bad case of tunnel vision once he had a fighter in his sights and Captain Sanderson had
only been on post for three weeks so no one really trusted her yet.

Personally, Randolph thought that the short, broad woman from Galax was doing pretty damn well, but there wasn't time for bitching over
assignments so Harris was signing off on anything that Sergeant Major Randolph Chaufee said and otherwise acting like a good officer who know he was in over
his head. Not that Randolph had a much better idea what to do - getting attacked by super fighters wasn't covered anywhere in the training and retraining
that had featured periodically in his twenty years in the AFFS and AFFC.

Dealing with an orbital drop had been however. "There's heavy cloud cover, so their fighters will have trouble tracing us. But their
Mechs will be on predictable paths, so as long as we can get one good lock on them we can trace them."

"Did you all get that?" Captain Harris asked. "Okay, we don't have much time. We'll hit them as they reach the top of
the clouds and follow them down."

Harris's Sparrowhawk bolted forwards at a speed that was just barely attainable for the Stukas in the formation - seven of them, just
barely a squadron's worth. The same speed was not much more than a leisurely stroll for a Sparrowhawk, which suggested that Harris was learning some
self-control at last. Maybe he might make it as a Wing leader after all - assuming that there was a wing left by the end of the day.

The fighters formed up into three ragged V formations as they flew over Fort Bangor and then angled sharply upwards into the clouds,
following radar traces from outlying stations that had detected the orbiting Dropships. The rainclouds were thick and grey, obscuring anything more than a few
dozen metres in any direction, Randolph noted. Usually flying in these conditions was just asking for an accident - it would only take one fighter's
instruments to go fuzzy and someone would be wing-tip to wing-tip or engine to engine. In theory the latest upgrade of the navigation systems should prevent
that - some upgrade that NAIS had developed to be refitted after '39. It sounded good to Randolph but he wasn't going to trust any machine more than he
did his own eyes and he kept them peeled for other fighters drifting into visual - and therefore dangerous - range of his own. A Stuka might survive a glancing
hit, but none of the Sparrowhawks would.

The radar chirped as it picked up other radar sources up ahead and above of the wing, eight sources - all strong enough that they could only
be dropships. Using their own radars would be a bit too revealing, but the movements of the dropships made it perfectly clear that they were carrying out
orbital drops of the Mechs aboard.

"Danver, Porkins," Randolph ordered the two Sparrowhawk pilots who had taken the most damage. "Don't worry about trying to
get any shots in, just get a count of the drop. If we can let the groundpounders know what they're dealing with then General Waters will get us some
payback for the Old Lady."

The two Sparrowhawks obediently fell back a little as the rest of the wing tore through the upper layer of clouds. Randolph could see the
shooting stars of drop cocoons burning as they made their entry into the atmoshphere. "Blake's Blood," he muttered to himself. "There are
hundreds of them."

"Porkins to Chaufee," one of the trailing Sparrowhawks said. "Permission to light them up with Radar and get a
count?"

Randolph checked the spotter's distance and confirmed that they were now diverging at maximum speed so any radar emissions would only
draw attention away from the attacking squadrons. "Confirmed, Porkins, light them up."

For a moment his radar display flickered as the powerful radars of the two Sparrowhawks swept across the falling Mechs and then cut out as
Porkins and Danvers dived down into the clouds. "Sending you tracking data," Porkins said after a moment. "We have at least a regiment of mechs
and a lot of other signatures. Half of them can't be more than a dozen tons, the others are even smaller. Warbook doesn't know what to make of them.
Best guess is decoys, maybe with some infantry mixed in with them."

"Understood, Porkins," Randolph said. "Not as bad as I thought. Okay, get that news back to Fort Bangor."

"Roger that, Chaufee," Porkins replied. "Light a pyre for the boys and girls."

"Count on it, Porkins," the Sergeant Major agreed and as he reached the spot where the Mechs were beginning to reach the clouds,
the wing popped up over the clouds for a moment and then dived into them after their dangerous prey.

The cloud limited the range of the shots that could be fired and the aerospace fighters opened fire at almost point blank range. Randolph
fired his lasers squarely into an Assassin and then corkscrewed as he dove to fire on it again. He never saw the Guillotine firing steadily from above and
behind the Assassin that crippled his engine with a shrewdly placed salvo. Only the automatic ejection saved his life.

-/-

Costigan's view of Poulsbo cleared up as he plunged past the clouds, now only two kilometres up. He was relieved to see that he
wasn't coming down over water - well, he was, but only because rain was hammering down around him onto the city below. It wasn't dark enough for lights
to be on, but he had little difficulty picking out the sprawling military base to the north of the city and from there he was able to orientate himself to
locate the HPG site on the south side. A major road artery cut through the sprawl of houses and shops a little south of the centre of the city and the Assassin
picked out a point on it as the designated landing zone, seperated from the HPG - run, he understood, by some organisation called ComStar - by a
ridge.

Checking his flanks it only took a moment to pick out the other nine BattleMechs and twenty-five Fangs plummeting alongside him. All present.
Good, now to avoid hitting the ground hard enough to drive the gyro buried deep inside the torso up and through his cockpit. Keeping a close eye on the
altimeter, he fired off his jumpjets, letting them draw in the air being forced into them by his descent and then redirecting and igniting in a carefully
balanced downward thrust. The Assassin shook, but remained upright as his descent slowed, heat rising as the jets fought against the impressive velocity that
had built up over the long fall.

He was just over a kilometer up when safeties cut in to let the jets cool - there was no way that they could maintain that furious drain long
enough to halt him completely - and he watched the altimeter and the temperature inside the jets both dropping swiftly with one eye as the other checked where
he was going to land. A little south of the road, but not far. There was an open grassed area inside a more or less rectangular building that he could reach -
probably better than anything else he'd get to unless he wanted to plough directly into an area effectively covered in closely packed - and almost
certainly highly inflammable - ground cars.

The jets were almost out of the yellow zone and there was barely five hundred metres between himself and the grass when he fired his jets
again, balancing the Assassin on seven columns of fire from its back as he hurtled downwards, seeing the couple of dozen men on the field scattering towards
the edges as he fought against Poulsbo's gravity well.

Several thousand people who had gathered to watch what was likely to be the last match of the Poulsbo Soccer League until the 42nd Hussars
saw off the incoming invasion were startled to see a battlemech in blue and grey urban camouflage crash into centre field, fire blazing from the rear. Dirt and
grass went flying and for a moment smoke obscured the new arrival.

Costigan shook his head, having cracked it against the back of his command couch during the landing with enough force that if it wasn't
for his neurohelmet he'd probably have knocked himself out. Checking the status, he noticed light damage to his leg armour but nothing more serious than he
would have taken falling over. Fairly predictable. Looking around he realised that he was inside some sort of arena, with stands about half full of people
looking at him in disbelief.

"Costigan!" called Rebecca over the Star's channel. "Check in."

"I am fine," Costigan reported. "Came down a little north of the drop point. Should I move back and join you."

"Neg. Take point," Rebecca ordered. "We are moving up to the railway line that leads across this road and past the target. Go
up the hill and check for opposition, then meet us on the railway."

Costigan nodded sharply although she could not see it. "Understood, Star Commander."

Straightening his Mech, he noted that the jumpjets had cooled back to full readiness while he was checking in and fire them again to depart
the stadium by leaping over one of the stands and onto the access road. Unknown to the Mechwarrior, a spectator with a camera would take a shot of his
Mech's take off - a picture that would feature on the sports page of one of Bangor Heights newspapers the next day with the caption: 'Game Called For
Falling BattleMech'.

-/-

Star Commander Rebecca's Grendel loped along the railway line at over seventy kilometers an hour. The line was sloped to ascend the hill
at a gradient comfortable for the trains and Mechs alike, although she truly pitied anyone foolish enough to try to take a train along the route after her Star
had passed. Although they had not intentionally caused damage, it only took one foot landing on the rails to wreck them, something that would unquestionably
derail any train that tried to use them without significant repairs.

Behind her, the Star Captain's Star were following, their Mechs slowed slighly by the burden of the five Fangs each was carrying. Even a
single point would be enough to slaughter a company of infantry - add in the Battlemechs and even an entire Mech company would not be enough to stop them from
taking the generator.

"Warrior Costigan," Rebecca demanded. "Do you have a visual of the target?"

There was a long silence and for a moment she suspected that he would not answer. Then: "Costigan to Star Commander Rebecca. I have line
of sight. Target is visible, fortified and defended. Two armoured vehicles and two Battlemechs in sight. All are painted white, presumably for parade purposes
rather than camouflage. However, the facility is of sufficent size to house a much larger force."

Rebecca sighed. "Costigan, it's a communications centre, not a fortified bunker. What is your postion?"

Another pause. "There is a railway bridge across a residential street that leads to the target building. I am sheltering behind the
bridge. I assume that I have been sighted by now but the guards have not left their patrol zones. The warbook identifies them as a Crab and a Sentinel of Star
League vintage and two Zephyr hover tanks." He paused. "I have an infantry platoon in sight. There are ramps leading to subterranean parking that
closely resemble armoured vehicle bays from the older Castle Brians on Dagda. I do not have line of sight into them."

"Our ETA is thirty seconds," Rebecca told him, figuring that this would calm his nerves. "You are clear to
engage."

Ahead of her she saw Costigan's Assassin rise out of cover on a column of fire - clearly he was using his jumpjets to clear the houses
that lined the hillside facing the Comstar compound. Tracer fire from an autocannon flew below him, clearly he was correct that he had been sighted but the
warriors guarding the HPG station had not responded until he made a hostile move. Costigan fired his own lasers and the cover of the trees either side of the
railway finally thinned to the point that she could see the target, a Crab stagger under several hits from the lasers.

"Drop the dish!" Rebecca ordered and hit her own jumpjets, narrowly missing a house as she bounded down the slope. Opening fire at
extreme range her large lasers lanced into the dish of the HPG. Running closer and dodging fire from the two Mechs, Costigan did likewise with his medium
lasers and sections of the large dish fell away.

The two hover tanks darted out of the shelter of the complex but weren't quite fast enough to avoid Athene's Fire Moth. The small
OmniMech was actually slightly faster than either and her missile launchers were laiden with infernos warheads that spread napalm across the upper surfaces of
both tanks. A moment later the rearmost exploded as the fire heated the tank's own ammo bins and the second skidded to a halt, the crew baling out and
rolling on the ground to try to extinguish the flames on their flak gear.

"Star Commander," Costigan snapped. "We have company."

Rebecca's eyes went wide as tanks, heavier tracked vehicles started to emerge from the ramps - at least a dozen of them. And three Mechs
had emerged from what she had thought was a warehouse and now looked more like a Mech hanger. A hanger that probably had room for more than just half a dozen
Mechs. "Star Captain Konrad, our intelligence was out on the defences. The installation is heavily defended. We have damaged the transmitter but not
conclusively."

Konrad growled irritably. "I am one minute away. What numbers do you face?"

"Twelve tanks, five battlemechs and an unknown number of infantry, Star Captain." Rebecca fired at a Black Knight -
the heaviest unit to emerge from the hanger - and missed with one of her large lasers. The other laser carved into the right leg of the heavy Battlemech, which
returned fire. The lasers overshot, blasting in the side of a house behind her but the particle cannon whiplashed across her right arm, savaging the armour.
"Additional units continue to emerge however."

The white painted Mechs and vehicles seemed to hesitate as she spoke and then moved back, taking cover inside the complex. They
seemed reluctant to target her Mechs for some reason, Rebecca mused, ignoring the handful of civilians fleeing up the hill on foot.

"Understood, Star Commander," Konrad said. "I am requesting air support. Be prepared to direct them towards
targets."

"Very few are on the streets," Rebecca reported. "I presume that they have taken shelter
elsewhere."

-/-

There was no sound in the universe like a regiment of Battlemechs moving across the battlefield. Add the rest of a Regimental Combat Team
moving around them - regiments of tanks and infantry backing up each battalion of Mechs, helicopters and scout cars probing ahead for the invaders positions -
the cacophany made Hauptmann-General Roger Waters truly glad for the insulation of his Griffin's cockpit.

"Alright, Bill, what are we dealing with?" he asked on the command channel.

"The reports from what's left of the Aerobrigade counted eight dropships making the drop," Kommandant Wilma 'Bill'
Waters, his niece and also the 42nd Avalon Hussars chief intelligence officer reported. "Each dropped about at least a company of battlemechs - possibly
two companies, it's hard to say because they were dropping decoys as well - and a platoon or more of infantry. So roughly four battalions of Battlemechs
and a battalion or two of jump infantry. Not exactly a raiding party and they've pretty much got control of the skies - our fighters have taken a real
beating."

"Wonderful. Just wonderful," Waters grumbled. Those were uncomfortably even odds - the 42nd only had three Mech battalions but
considerably more infantry and tanks which should balance things out. Hopefully their knowledge of the ground would counterbalance the attacker's greater
Mechs. "Okay. Where do you make their landing site?"

"Just south of Rouasville," she told him.

Waters called up a map to remind himself. He knew Rouasville of course, it was a good-sized town north of Bangor Heights and a favoured place
for the officers at Fort Bangor to relax in the sure knowledge that virtually every enlisted soldier would head to the more accessible pleasures of the city.
The ground between was mostly pastoral farmland spread over rolling hills and shallow rivers that even his infantry could probably ford with little difficulty.
Not much cover against fighters, but otherwise good ground to fight over.

"Then we'll probably be on top of them within the hour," he concluded. "Did the aerojocks see any
markings?"

"No markings," Bill said reluctantly. "But I think that we're dealing with the same raiders that have been working their
way around the periphery since last year. The description of some of their mechs matches a report we had relayed from the Periphery March - a Catapult with
Marauder arms."

"They had some sort of long range laser," Waters said, recalling the report himself. "Sounds a lot like what our fighters ran
into. Everyone remind your troops to get in close. We can't risk a long range fight if they have that sort of -"

An explosion ahead of Waters drew his attention back to his surroundings in time to see a desperately dodging Ferret scout helicopter swatted
out of the sky by a flight of long range missiles. The rotor torn away, the Ferret displayed all the aerodynamics of a brick, ploughing into the ground barely
a kilometer ahead of Water's command lance. A column of smoke was already rising from beyond the next line of hills - presumably the other helicopter in
the reconnaissence lance.

"The scouts are taking fire," the Captain of the Reconnaissence Company reported somewhat unnecessarily. "I'm pulling them
back." Again, something that Waters and everyone else could see for themselves as a dozen hovercraft and helicopters were making for them at flank speed
and didn't look inclined to stop until they had reached the shelter of Fort Bangor. Given that there were almost twenty vehicles in the Recon Company, that
suggested that the two helicopters weren't the only ones that had been taking fire. "The enemy force is approximately one twenty - repeat one two zero
- battlemechs and the same of some sort of miniature BattleMechs. No idea what they are but they're fast. There's some infantry riding on the real
Mechs."

"I guess they weren't decoys after all," Waters said. "Alright. All regiment and battalion commanders. Tanks and infantry
are to take defensive postions on the hills behind us. Mechs are with me. We'll hit them hard and fast to take their measure and fall back on the
conventional regiments once we know what we're dealing with. Formation is delta-three."

It wasn't a complicated plan and the 42nd had been working together for decades so that was all it took to have the tanks and personel
carriers backing up and turning to make for the top of the hills that they had just crossed. Hull down behind it they could provide support for the planned
withdrawal. The Mechs spread out more, taking a combat formation, each battalion sending two companies forward and holding a third in reserve. Waters and his
command lance shifted right to march between the first and third battalions, their faster medium Mechs allowing them to move easily through the heavier mechs
of the first battalion. Waters preferred the relative inconspiciousness of his Griffin on the battlefield, as well as the mobility that allowed him to support
any of his soldiers rather than being all but trapped in place in a lumbering assault job.

The hill was not treed and the minute that his Mech's head was above the edge, Waters could see the enemy forces spread out and moving
fast towards him. A moment later and something snapped past his head, missing the Griffin by inches. The size had looked more like an artillery shell than he
liked although there didn't seem to be an artillery pieces up ahead that he could see. With annoyance he realised that the shot hadn't quite missed,
having taken off one of the aerials that rose from the Griffin's domed helmet.

Taking a second look as he crested the hill he picked out one of the larger Mechs in the central group and fired his PPC and LRMs into the
hulking humanoid Battlemech, sweat running down his face as a wave of heat flooded his cockpit. The charged particles whiplashed across one shoulder of the
Mech but the missiles overshot as the towering Mech moved accelerated forwards, the scattering pint-sized Mechs in front of it moving even faster to keep ahead
of their larger brother. Waters could see that the other two battalion-sized groups were moving further out and speeding up, as if to envelop the flanks of the
Avalon Hussars.

"Hit them hard, Hussars," the General snapped. "Second and Third battalions wheel out and hit your opposite numbers, first
battalion take the centre." He fired his LRMs this time, letting his Mech cool. This time they hit the towering Mech, smashing into armored plates along
its left flank and leg. In return his target fired the two lasers attached to its left forearm, following it up with a shot from the cannon whose muzzle jutted
out of the right wrist in place of a hand and another laser in the chest firing - probably on a seperate firing circuit from those in the left arm. The first
three shots hit squarely to the chest and the only reason that the second didn't was that Waters' Griffin was tumbling backwards, more than two tons of
armour removed from the torso's protection knocking him badly off balance. "By Jesu," he exclaimed as his status monitors lit up. None of his
armour was breeched, but another volley like that would punch right through - he'd taken lighter hits off of a Marik Awesome the last time the League sent
a heavy raid across the border.

An unfamiliar Mech looked down through his cockpit and it took him a moment to reconcile the unusual persepective to realise that it was one
of the dwarf Mechs, its helmet little more than a dimple between the broad shoulders. Struggling to rise he swatted at it with his PPC, forcing it back. A
laser mounted inside its chest lashed out and Waters felt heat rising. Checking his armour he realised in horror that the laser had dug through the last
quarter ton of armour over his engine and damaged the reactor. More lasers bit into the Griffin as he stood and found three of the little goblin-like mechs
picking away at him viciously. Fortunately none of them hit the weak spot, but it was only a matter of time.

To his left, an explosion marked the death of one of first battalion's Archers as its ammuntion bins detonated. Glancing at the side
monitor that showed the IFF beacons of the regiment, Waters was shocked to see that almost a third of them were out of action. "All Mechs withdraw!"
he shouted and fired his jump jets to get clear of his attackers, blasting himself backwards over the crest of the hill. He landed behind the hulk of a
Wolverine, recognising it as Command Sergeant Major's machine only when he saw the lanky mechwarrior struggling out of the cockpit. He stooped to pick up
his comrade - and that was all that saved him as half a dozen of the dwarf Mechs jumped over the crest of the hill, lasers blazing. Instead of hitting him
squarely in the chest, the shots peppered his head and shoulders.

Caught with his hand extended for Pike, Waters could do nothing to fight back - his particle cannon and missiles would not be effective at
these close quarters. However, the same was not true of everyone and a cannonade from a JagerMech with the markings of the Third Battalion smashed into one of
the small Mechs, hurling it to the floor, the armour pockmarked by the explosive shells.

A moment later, three lasers punched into the JagerMech's chest. Another of those monstrous cannon shells caught the heavy Mech in the
face and it fell backwards, cockpit caved in. Looking up, Waters saw a lean, blocky Mech with birdlike legs march over the hill, the weapon barrels that made
up its arms tracking from the fallen JagerMech towards his own Griffin. Desperately he hit his jump jets, evading all but one laser shot, that tore through
more than half the armour on his left leg. The hit sent him into a spin that Waters skillfully turned into a turn and landed facing away from the enemy, legs
already moving to send him running at almost eighty kilometers an hour away from the invasion and towards the cover of his tanks. On the side monitor he could
see barely half of his Mechwarriors were able to do the same.

"Waters to all commands," he snapped. "Be warned that the 'decoys' are minature Mechs armed with something equivalent
to a large laser and moving at least as fast as a Jenner. We are in full retreat. I am ordering all battleroms to be transmitted directly to Fort Bangor.
Kommandant Waters - I need you to have ComStar transmit the data back to Bolan highest priority. Pay whatever they ask, this information has to get back to
Tharkad no matter what."

Bill's voice was strained as she replied. "Negative, General Waters. The ComStar compound is under attack. The ComGuards report they
are repelling the attack but the HPG is damaged and they estimate six hours to repair it."

"What?" Waters exclaimed. "Someone's attacking ComStar? Inside the city!?"

"Yes sir," confirmed Bill. "Precentor Caputo wants to speak to you as soon as possible."

"Put her through," Waters ordered as a volley of fire from the tanks hurtled over the head of his Griffin and into the
pursuing enemy Mechs.

Waters had met Precentor-IV Nina Caputo several times since the former mercenary had arrived on Poulsbo with the 143rd ComGuards
Division. He'd never heard her sound quite so angry. "Who the hell are these bastards!" she snarled the minute that Fort Bangor relayed her call
(probably coming across the secure landline between his headquarters building and the ComStar station. "The motherless saves are firing on our compound
from the houses opposite. If we fire back there's going to be a bloodbath."

"We don't know who they are," Waters responded as he slowed to drop Pike off next to an armoured personnel carrier
just behind the cover of the hill, before turning to add his long range missiles to the vollys being fired by tanks all along the line of hills. "They
haven't replied to any of our challenges - all we know is that they are hostile."

A Partisan tank raised its autocannon to a high elevation and started sweeping the sky with depleted uranium shells. Waters
checked his threat board and grimaced. Aerospace fighters. Wonderful. "Frankly, Precentor, we're getting hammered up here and as soon as my Mechs
regroup I'm ordering a fighting retreat back to Fort Bangor. Any support that you can offer would be gratefully accepted."

Caputo hesitated for a moment. "I have four Level III formations on planet," she said, confirming Waters own
intelligence reports on the ComGuards deployments. "I will detach two of them to circle the city and meet you at Fort Bangor. The other two will be needed
to secure my base here." A Level III formation was essentially a combined arms battalion - a quite welcome reinforcement.

"Sir," Bill broke into the conversation. "The 201st Light Armour reports that a fourth battalion of the enemy is
moving around their extreme flank."

Waters grimaced. The 201st were his extreme right flank. If they someone was getting around them then his entire force was in
danger of being encircled. "Understood, Major. Precentor, I would appreciate any reinforcements you can send me."

Then he cut her off and started trying to extricate his force from what was looking increasingly like an utter
disaster.

Hikaru popped around the corner swept his suit's laser across an improvised barricade that the defenders were using to try to block the
point's approach to the controls for the HPG. Soldiers ducked away from the beam, one of them falling backwards with a fiery gouge slashed across his face
below his helmet brim, and the rest of the Point leapt forwards to exploit the moment of suppression. In an instant, Jolyne had crossed the distance to the
barricade and rocketed over it on her jump jets. Point Commander Rache caught the corner of the heavy table that had been turned on its side across the
passageway to provide most of the cover and yanked it back to let the other two Fangs pass, firing his own laser into the nearest soldier as he did
so.

By the time Hikaru caught up with them, the squad guarding the barricade had been wiped out. It was surprisingly clean: lasers tended to
cauterise wounds caused. The smell of burning flesh (two of the corpses were on fire) was probably choking, but inside the protection of their armour, the five
Clan warriors didn't notice it at all.

"Anyone hurt," Rache asked gruffly. No one replied as he looked at each of them through the narrow, straight visor of the low,
domed helmet of the Fang, checking for injury that someone might have missed or was brazening out. "Fine. They are still trying to stop us from going in
this direction, so this is the way we will go." Without access to maps of the facility, it was the best way that they had of finding the control room. The
only catch was that it might not be the only thing that was being protected - one of the other Points had barrelled through three blockades only to find that
what was being protected was an armoury for the compound's infantry. They had fused the door shut before they moved on, denying the defenders access to the
weapons there, but it was wasted time.

The point moved quickly down the corridor, forcing open every door they came across to check the rooms behind, only to find nothing but empty
offices and meeting rooms.

"Next floor perhaps?" Jolyne suggested. "They might keep the controls off the ground floor to prevent visitors from stumbling
into it."

"That sounds reasonable," agreed Rache. "The stairwells are too obvious though. Make a hole in the ceiling."

The rooftiles were cleared away easily with Hikaru and Johannes each making two quick slashes with their lasers at right angles to each
other. The concrete above was more resilient however and it took a dozen shots from the other three Fangs to carve deeply enough through it that a panel about
a metre and a half around crashed down between them. That was annoying, Hikaru noted. The batteries in their armour were highly efficent but they had some
limits and one of them was a large but finite number of shots from the lasers.

"Turn the power on your lasers down a notch," Rache ordered, echoing Hikaru's thoughts. "We don't need to waste energy
against these lightweights." He jumped up through the hole and there was a chatter of automatic weapons being fired at him, then the sizzle of a laser cut
them off. "Two notches," Rache corrected himself and Hikaru jumped up after his commander to see that the other infantryman had amost decapitated the
two man machinegun team who had managed to bring their gun around from the stairs in time to cover the hole in the floor behind them.

"Watch your feet," the Point Commander ordered. "This facility wasn't built for anything as heavy as our suits. The
corridors are probably alright, but the rooms are likely to have fewer supports."



-/-

Costigan snarled as he dodged a volley of short ranged missiles from a Kintaro. He'd been careless earlier and the larger
Mech had managed to land a Narc Beacon on him. It was making it a great deal harder for him to avoid the missiles - and that in and of itself was distracting
him from the fire of the rest of the little battlegroup that was hunting him through the ComStar military base.

He wasn't sure where the rest of Trinary Gamma were. To keep the 'GomGuards' distracted, Star Captain Konrad had
ordered them to scatter once the infantry had breeched the buildings. Inside, the battle armoured troops would be all but invincible and with the Mechs
outside, the defenders were presented with two fronts to fight on.

Jumping over an office building, he heard the explosions as almost a dozen missiles ploughed into the upper floors trying to
reach him and spun to fire all five of his lasers into the Sentinel that had been lurking behind the building, waiting for a chance to ambush anyone coming
around it. The other Mech staggered as deep slashes were carved through its armour by the ravening beams of coherent light, but it raised its high speed
autocannon and casings flew from the breech as it sprayed a line of shells across his position, about half of them hitting the Assassin's already battered
chest. Costigan assumed that the missile launcher hadn't locked, as no warheads followed the tracers towards him. Fortunately, the Sentinel's missiles
didn't seem compatible with those being used by the Kintaro.

Still, three Mechs were a little much and Costigan moved a toggle on one of the two joystick, changing the targeting mode for
his lasers. An hexagon over the Sentinel in his main display expanded, showing him a magnified view of the white-painted Mech. Settling the crosshairs over the
gash that one of his lasers had made in the Sentinel's left torso he fired all five lasers again. Only two struck the gash, but they tore through the
weakened armour and the right arm of the Mech, along with its autocannon, went flying as the lasers severed the shoulder joint. Unfortunately, the ammunition
bins weren't hit, but with almost half it's chest - and the only major weapon system - gone, the Sentinel had been dispensed with as a
threat.

There was a crashing sound from behind Costigan and he barely managed to kick his Asassin into a hasty run before the
needle-nosed Crab crashed through the building behind him, lasers firing. Much of the white paint had been scraped away in the passage, and fortunately the
pilot's aim was off due to the debris, or Costigan suspected that his rear armour would be looking rather threadbare.

Seeing the Kintaro emerging from around the corner of the now collapsing building, Costigan broke right and into an open Mech
Hanger. Hopefully it would have another exit, he thought - or at least not have any Mechs still parked inside it. He was fortunate in both cases - only to find
a Mech re-entering the hanger from the opposite end. "You're surrounded, pirate!" boomed a woman's voice from the Shootist. "Don't
be a fool."

Costigan's crosshairs were almost perfectly placed over the heavy Mech's right chest and they fired almost
simultanously. Costigan swore as the heavy autocannon in the Shootist's chest shredded the left arm of his Mech and one of the pulse lasers carved a
crooked line of craters down the faceplace of the Assassin. His opponent was worse off however. All five shots had torn into the chest right over the
ammunition bins and although the cellular storage had saved the powerful Mech and its pilot from death, the explosion had hurled the seventy ton warmachine
from its feet and into one of the empty Mech Bays. At least it wouldn't need to go far for repairs, Costigan smirked, noting that the large laser in the
right arm was lying in the opposite bay and that without ammuntion the cannon would be effectively useless. Even if the pilot managed to stand up again, the
Shootist was effectively out of action.

Not even slowing for the loss of his arm he ran past the fallen Mech, its pilot still cursing through the open microphone and
feathered his jumpjets to kill his momentum and turn in place as the Crab was the first Mech to reach the other end of the hanger, then run out of its line of
sight. "This is Gamma Two-Four," he called into Trinary Gamma's channel, hoping that it was being monitored as Konrad had promised.
"Requesting an airstrike on the building I just left."

There was a crackle over the channel and then: "Gamma Two-Four this is Three-Four Epsilon One-Three. Target confirmed. We
are incoming."

Costigan broke into a run away from the hanger as a pair of Jagatai heavy fighters from the 34th Armoured Cavalry Squadron dove
towards the building, lasers and particle cannon blazing. The roof of the hanger had evidently not been hardened against this sort of attack and the roof
collapsed inwards. After a moment a tongue of fire and smoke rose from the ruin. "Excellent shooting Epsilon One-Three," Costigan thanked the
fighters. Free of pursuit for the moment, he orientated himself and then headed towards the eastern end of the complex where he had entered and where the HPG
dish still loomed above the buildings.

Passing the broken wreckage of what his warbook identified as a Champion, he also saw the wreckage of Mechwarrior Athene's
Fire Moth. The head was flattened back into the body, the indentation with the sharp deformation that showed it had been a slow kinetic impact - such as that
of a larger Mech's foot - that had finished Athene off. She had been an extremely attractive warrior, Costigan noted regretfully as he passed her, noting
the location on his battle computer for the salvage crews.

The Star Adder mechwarrior ducked back from one of the internal roads as two Fury tanks roared along it in the opposite
direction, followed by a Lancelot. With all the metal of the complex and his Assassin having cooled from the fusillades of a moment before, visual targeting
was the only only way that he was likely to be detected. He saw two Jagatai, perhaps the same point as before, descend to strafe the little column and rise,
one of them trailing smoke from the return fire.

The defenders had managed to retake the gates to the ComStar compound and a small force of three tanks - two Pumas and a Burke -
were in the open yard behind those gates. Standing on the firing step within the wall, a platform specifically designed to carry their weight, two light Mechs
were firing lasers at a target further inside the compound. The warbook marked them as a Spector and a Night Hawk - neither design familiar to Costigan.
Interference on his sensors revealed that one was equipped with electronic countermeasures but he wasn't sure which one.

The tanks were more worrying. All three had excellent long range firepower that could batter his Assassin into wreckage in an
instant or ward off aerospace fighters providing ground support. Only the relatively constrained lines of sight within the compound restricted them now and
they were also heavily armoured. All four of his lasers combined would be hard pressed to seriously damage any of them unless he was lucky or managed a
sustained barrage.

His moment of analysis was cut short as the Burke suddenly lowered the angle of its turreted particle cannons and spun the
turret in the direction of Costigan's Assassin. The much smaller Mech sprinted away just in time to miss being hit by the three cannon, although even the
near miss considerably increased the static from the ECM that was clouding his sensors as the electromagnetic systems of the Assassin struggled to compensate
for the power burst.

"Gamma Two-Four to all units," he advised urgently. "The compound gates have been secured by three heavy tanks
and two light Mechs. The tanks are Pumas and a Burke - heavy with a lot of range. I do not advise an air attack except from well above their maximum
range."

"Gamma Two-One has visual of the Mechs," Rebecca commented over the radio, then exhaled in satisfaction just as
Costigan heard the crash of a Mech hitting the ground. "Make that one light mech," she corrected.

Star Captain Konrad cleared his throat. "Good work, all of you," he advised. "Star Commander Helmuth advises me
that his infantry have secured the control centre for the HyperPulse Generator and are disabling it now. We've completed our objective, now all we need to
do is withdraw and join forces with the rest of the 10th Hussars. Star Commander Rebecca, you and Mechwarrior Costigan are to secure the gates for us. All
other Mechs are to gather on me to pick our infantry."

Costigan grimaced. It would take five Mechs to carry all the infantry and Konrad wouldn't take more than that, so that meant
that besides Athene, two other Mechs had been taken down - which wasn't as bad as it could be given how many of these white-painted surats had crawled out
of this so-called communcations centre but was still painful losses from the Trinary this early in the campaign.

"Understood," he confirmed. "I am moving towards your position, Star Commander."

"Neg," ordered Rebecca. "I will join you. We will engage at close ranges - Spheroid missiles are less effective
within two hundred metres and their particle cannons are little better. You concentrate on dealing with the Mech and I shall handle ."

Costigan paused. "Star Commander, did you load Infernos in your SRM racks?" he asked incredulously. That was the only
thing that he could think off that would polish off those three tanks in a hurry.

"It is recommended for at least one Mech in every Star to carry some, Costigan," she reminded him. "And those
tanks will be much less of a problem if they're on fire."

"And if they get even one shot into your ammuniton bins, Star Commander, then everything within ten metres of your Grendel
will also be on fire," pointed out Costigan. "A distance that I plan to exceed at all times."

"That is acceptable," she responded haughtily as her Grendel came into view from behind a building, "but only if
you do so while also keeping that Spector off my back."

Costigan sighed and kicked his Assassin into a run, Rebecca's Grendel trailing behind him, essentially using him as a shield
as they charged into the open yard. Not that he could fault her for that. If the Grendel was knocked out of action then he didn't have the firepower to
handle the defenders on his own - in fact it was questionable whether they could do so if they tanks only managed to knock out Rebecca's two short range
missile launchers. That would be... challenging.

As it was, only a handful of missiles actually hit him, pummeling the armour on his remaining arm and sending shards of armour
flying off his right leg in a fashion that would have been devestating to any infantry underfoot if there had been any such. Rebecca darted off to the left,
large lasers firing into the frontal armour of the nearer of the two Pumas (and doing disturbingly little damage, to Costigan's mind) while he swerved
right and hit his jumpjets to vault over what what was left of the Night Hawk and close in on the Spector.

Both of them hit with only one laser - in Costigan's case that meant that the Spector's large laser sliced away half the
armour left over the major systems in the chest of his Assassin, and in the case of the Spector it meant that a deep gash was carved from elbow to shoulder of
its left arm.

The ComGuards pilot then made what was, in the experience of Costigan, the cardinal error of light Mech combat: jumping up and
forwards to try to hop over the Assassin to get a clear shot at his weaker rear armour while remaining outside his firing arc. Costigan waited until the other
pilot was committed to the move and then used his own jumpjets to skim backwards underneath the Spector's feet before they landed - moving through the
effective blindspot beneath the other Mech's standard visual display and into its own rear arc.

In credit to the ComGuard, he realised what was happening in time to bring his left arm around in time to put two shots squarely
into the Assassin's left leg, blasting away almost every remaining plate of armour on the limb. It wasn't enough to prevent Costigan from firing all
four of his lasers squarely into the back of the Spector and arguable contributed to its fate since the angle meant that the shots dug from a little below and
behind the shoulder directly into the engine shielding.

Silvery-fire erupted from the newly made-gap in the Spector's armour as air was sucked into the reactor and superheated. The
mechwarrior's ejection sent him hurtling upwards moments before the same fire erupted from the various structural weak points, slagging the interior of the
thirty-five ton battlemech.

A moment later, an explosion scattered parts of the Burke across most of the courtyard and Costigan saw flames leaping from the
napalm mix that liberally coated the turret of one of the Pumas. Rebecca fired two salvos of missiles into the other Puma, spreading more fire across one track
and the frontal armour and then jumping for the rooftop of the communcations centre. Not reinforced to deal with forty-five tons of BattleMech, the roof
collapsed and the Grendel dropped out of sight.

Costigan ran for cover behind the same building, a cluster of long range missiles hammering into his rear armour, shaving away
almost all of the protection. There was a thunderous explosion as flames reached the ammo bins of one of the Pumas, he wasn't sure which one - not that it
mattered as he could hear the engine of the other one roared as it chased after him. The tank was moving at almost fifty kilometers an hour when it failed to
corner and ninety-five tons of metal hit the opposite building, half-burying itself. Costigan suspected that even if the fires didn't reach anything vital
inside the tank, it wouldn't matter with almost half it's own weight of concrete piled over it, but he ran behind it and fired a full volley into the
rear armour anyway.

It took a second salvo from his lasers to finish chewing through the thick armor and gut the interior of the tank.

"Mechwarrior Costigan to Star Captain Konrad. The gates are now clear," he reported.

There was a crackle over his radio. "What is the status of Star Commander Rebecca?" Konrad asked.

"I am well," Rebecca cut in. "I am disabling the HPG systems more thoroughly," she reported. A moment later
her Grendel leapt out of the building, tongues of flame reaching after her from the broken roof. "I am now confident that they will not restore
communications without extensive repairs."

Konrad sighed. "Remember that we will want the station to be repairable," he chided her. "The garrison forces
will require use of it."

Less that two minutes later, six Star Adder mechs came into sight, two of the Assassins splitting a point of Fangs between them while the
other Mechs all carried full Points on them. "The rest of the 10th Hussars are securing the military base north of the city," Konrad advised them.
"The enemy's mobile forces are being pushed around the western side of the city so we will move around the east to avoid them."

-/-

The armored regiments had not held together long enough for Waters to regroup his Mech units. He could hardly blame them - the
shattered remnants of two regiments were all that was holding his rearguard together. The 201st couldn't contribute because as far as he had been able to
tell, every sincle vehicle in the entire regiment was a smoking wreck somewhere in the hills north of him. The truly depressing thing was that as best he could
tell only a dozen or so enemy Battlemechs had been disabled or destroyed, although casualties had been higher among the dwarf Mechs. Some of the troops had
started calling them redcaps after some kind of horrid goblin from a children's fairy tale.

Waters didn't give a damn what they were called, he just wished they'd stop harrying his retreat. He'd already given
up on making it back to Fort Bangor - Bill's last transmission had been to confirm she was evacuating the base ahead of the flanking Mechs that were
storming it. Her plan to change into civvies the first change she had and then go to ground sounded desperate but so was the situation.

"General! ComStar mechs ahead!" reported the forward elements of the column - currently a pair of scout cars doing
little more than acting as a tripwire for any serious threats that might be in their path.

Waters moved forward through the column, his Griffin limping as he did so. The Mechs and infantry transports were a sorry sight and he
quailed at the thought of how many of his men must have been burnt alive inside the vehicles that had been hit by the invaders. He had been fortunate to have
never before seen infernos used outside of training exercises but he knew from those exercises that anyone inside a vehicle struck by the hellish missiles had
little to no chance of escaping with their lives.

A pair of white painted light Mechs - a Mongoose and a Mercury to judge by the warbook - were bracketing a lone tree next to the road.
Neither was pointing weapons at the column, but it was clear from their movements that both mechwarriors were on edge.

"Demi-Precentor Johnson is only a few kilometres ahead of you, General," the senior of the two ComStar mechwarriors reported once
introductions had been made. "Our compound has been secured again, but Precentor Caputo was injured when a hanger collapsed on her Shootist and the HPG
took heavy damage. There is doubt that it can be repaired without replacement parts from offworld."

"Dammit!" Waters grumbled. He had sent word to every world within range of the Black Box in Fort Bangor that Poulsbo was under
attack so the news would get out, but Bill had given him a codeword during her last message confirming that she had destroyed the box to keep it out of the
invaders hands after sending one final message advising of the dire situation that he faced. And that report could hardly be as detailed as the information
that ComStar could have sent by HPG signal.

"Yes sir," the Mechwarrior agreed with feeling. "The last message sent was that the planet was under attack, but ComStar has
no way of knowing that we are under attack. Precentor Caputo ordered that we transmit a warning to both jump points in the hope that a jumpship will arrive and
be able to relay the message, but..."

"No ships are due here for another week or so," confirmed Waters. "And if they do, they'll need a week to recharge their
jump drives. Fortunately, the jump points are far enough out that the invaders might not be able to reach them before they're able to
leave."

The three Mechs moved aside to let the leading elements of the reinforced company that was all that was left of Second Battalion, 42nd Avalon
Hussars pass them by. "Blessed Blake," the Mercury pilot swore. "They really got a working over." Half the mechs had lost large portions of
their armour and at least three were missing all or part of one or both arms. More were limping badly due to damage taken to their legs. The most damaged Mech
in the group was Lefttenant Kuramitsu's Marauder, which had lost the right arm entirely when shots had savaged the right chest and the autocannon there.
The left arm also hung useless due to its damage, leaving the heavy Mech totally unarmed. There was still a flapping panel on the back of what was left of the
Marauder's back where she had ejected her now useless autocannon magazine.

Waters grunted. "I hope that the troops left at your compound are in better shape," he said. It was an open secret that the
ComGuards were equipped from stockpiled equipment dating back to the Star League, equipment that was still considerably better than that available to most of
the AFFC despite the best efforts of NAIS and Hanse Davion over the last few decades.

"I don't know that, sir," the Mechwarrior admitted politely. Then his guns jerked skywards. "Incoming
fighters," he snapped.

Waters checked his sensors, surprised not to have seen anything. Nothing. What was... Calls of warning started coming from the
back of the column and he saw icons begin to appear at the extreme edge of his rader. Clearly the ComGuards mechs had longer range radars than his Griffin.
"Waters to all units. Disperse the formation. Take whatever cover you can."

The enemy fighters descended out of the clouds, sweeping across the dispersing 42nd Avalon Hussars no lower than three hundred
metres, lasers firing steadily. Waters fired off a volley of missiles and watched them clip the wing of one of the fleet little craft, causing no more than a
slight stagger in its flight path. The Mongoose and Mercury were moving evasively away from the column, not that he could blame them. Neither light mech had
any weapons that could reach the fighters as long as they remained at that altitude.

Explosions began to occur as damaged Mechs and vehicles succumbed, black oily smoke rising from the wreckage. Waters narrowly
avoided a three lasers that hit the tree behind him. Sergeant Rodriquez' Quickdraw was not as fortunate as one of the enemy fighters sliced deeply into his
rear with lasers, reaching the stock of short ranged missiles stored within. The fireball sent parts flying across the fields either side of the road, one arm
crashing down on an APC, immobilising it. The infantry within prudently baled out a moment before more laser fire shattered their ride. Waters hoped that the
driver had also escaped.

"Damn you!" the General shouted, raising his particle cannon and firing it upwards into one of the fighters, heedless
of the heat that swept through his cockpit. "Damn you!"

He fired again, this time firing his last long range missiles. Even though they missed, better than letting them overheat in his
ammo bits. A ton of armour was battered off his Griffin by one of the circling fighters but he locked the Mech's knees and was unshaken.

A third shot and the crosshairs on display fizzled and then the entire display vanished as the targeting computer overheated.
Waters slapped the override as the Griffin's computer started to shut down the straining reactor.

His fourth shot, aimed by eye through the dome of the cockpit, missed clearly and Waters gasped for breath in the ovenlike heat
of his cockpit. Reluctantly he lowered the particle cannon slightly, allowing the heatsinks to dissipate some of the massive heat burden that he had built
up.

"General!" called a voice. "General Waters! Can you hear me?"

"Y-yes. I hear you," he said hoarsely.

"The ComGuards are coming, General," the voice reassured him. "Just hold on." He recognised the voice as
that of Kuramitsu and as his display winked up, he realised that the young Leftenant was standing her battered and weaponless Marauder in front of his Griffin,
literally shielding the smaller Mech with its body from the fighters.

However, the white Mechs that were coming over the hills were a far less welcome sight, for they bore the clear marks of battle
damage and familiar columns of smoke was beginning to rise from the hills that they were emerging from. As he watched, a running Kintaro toppled forwards, legs
all but cut out from under it as a strafing run swept across the ComGuards at low altitude.

Looking around, Waters realised that no more than a company of his Mechs were still upright. A company more might have been
salvagable if he could hold the field. The tanks were doing a little better - perhaps a battalion were still moving, but even they were shedding tracks or had
burnt out projections which had once been cannon or missile racks in all too many cases.

"Demi-Precentor Johnson," he sent on the frequency that the ComGuard scout Mechs had used. "This is
Hauptmann-General Waters. What is your situation?"

The voice that replied was distant and unbelieving. "This is Demi-Precentor Verble. Johnson's tank was hit by infernos,
none of the crew got out. We're getting cut to pieces, General. I think there are enemy Mechs between -"

Waters shook his head as he heard the other man's voice cut off. Probably permanently.

More Mechs were moving onto the hillside now, following the ComGuards survivors. Birdlike, predatory shapes. Waters blinked
tears out of his eyes. How could this have happened? How could it have come to this? So fast. It was not even a day since the enemy had jumped into the
system!

Reluctantly, he set his radio to a general broadcast. "This is Hauptmann-General Roger Waters of the 42nd Avalon Hussars
calling the leaders of the invasion force. I repeat, this is Hauptmann-General Waters. We surrender. I repeat. We surrender."

For a long moment, nothing happened. The mechs continued down the hill. A lone Crab fell to the floor as lasers bit into
it.

"Hauptmann-General," a flat voice replied. "Your surrender is accepted. Order your warriors to exit their
battlemechs and other vehicles, laying down any weapons they carry."

Weeping in shame, Waters gave the hardest - and the final - orders of his professional career. Then he unbuckled himself from
his command couch and rooted through the compartment beneath it that held a survival kit to extract the sidearm that went with it. He wasn't one of the
rocket-rangers who liked having one strapped to them as they piloted, but it was common sense to have something to protect yourself with if you had to
eject.

A moment later, there was a muffled boom inside the cockpit of his Griffin.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

Bangor Heights, Poulsbo
Tamarind March, Federated Commonwealth
23 March 3050

The planetary capital had settled into an almost ominous quiet after the battles of the last two days. Everyone knew that the 42nd Avalon Hussars and the 143rd ComGuards had been decisively defeated, but no one knew by whom. Confidence that Archon Melissa Steiner-Davion would send another army to retake the world was low even if steadier heads recognised that no ruler could simply whistle up an army to any given corner of their realm on a moment's notice.

Even in the bars and taverns of the city, there was an odd quiet. Poulsbo had been invaded before, but not in living memory. At the beginning of the week they had all been citizens of the Federated Commonwealth (well, still the Lyran Commonwealth technically but everyone knew that it was just a matter of time until the legalities matched what was actually true) with all the rights and security associated with being part of that fusion between two of the powerful successor states. Now they had to wonder how long their daily business would continue before the new state of affairs impacted on them - to their detriment no doubt.

The Happy Apple, on the corner of two of the quieter shopping streets near the centre of Bangor Heights was known for two traits. Firstly, as the name suggested, the cider was excellent and available in several varieties including three that the manager imported specifically from Cavanaugh II. Secondly, due to the proximity to a line of motorcycle parking, it was the preferred destination of half a dozen groups of young men and women that found the thrill of high speed antics on two or three wheels to be irresistable.

Right at the moment, the group occupying the couches and benches of one of the four rooms surrounding the U-shaped bar were not one of the gangs that Police Constable Ciaphas Zyern was familiar with. They were cleaner than most, with no obvious markings on their black leathers except small decorative pins displaying some sort of serpent. Oddly, they also all wore white dress shirts under their jackets rather than the usual torn or fated cotton shorts sold at hiked up prices by bands or sporting teams as cheap merchandise. Several of them also had extensive facial tattoos.

Constable Zyern was present, out of uniform, for the very simple reason that Bangor Heights Metropolitan Police Department always had one officer discreetly in or around the Happy Apple on evenings when they thought that trouble was likely. For example, if two or more biker groups were in Bangor Heights at the same time. When they were short handed, in this case due to the extra officers deployed in the south to keep looters away from homes damaged in the fighting, an off-duty officer would be offered partial pay for the evening to do his drinking there and let the department know if they would need to despatch a car or van full of the constablary to re-establish peace.

"Not your usual patrons," he commented to Ned Flood behind the bar.

Flood shrugged. "No, but I'm not complaining," he said. "Apart from a minor misunderstanding over the change, they've not been a lick of trouble. Mind you. they've had a fair bit to drink but they're sticking to the ciders rather than the heavy liquor."

There was a roar of engines outside and Zyern rolled his eyes, typing a three number code into the phone discreetly clipped to his belt. Having a second gang turn up didn't mean for certain that a squad of police would be needed, but one of the reasons he was drinking here was to give forewarning in case the need did arise.

Bickering and namecalling amongst themselves in the way that passes for affection amongst near-adults, the dozen or so young men and women who had been riding them motorcycles swaggered into the bar. The leaders glared challenging at the group already occupying part of the bar, but when they received contemptuous sneers in return they laughed it off - albeit a trifle nervously and descended upon the bar.

Clearly the invasion was acting like a depressant upon even these rowdies, Zyern noted ironically. Maybe even this cloud had a silver lining. He turned back to his drink, glancing up at the video screen suspended from the ceiling at one end of the bar, where local sports results were being displayed. The station was still periodically reminding everyone that the soccer match between Spruce Harbour and Springfield had been interrupted by a BattleMech landing in the centrefield, which would require a rematch as soon as they knew if the soccer league would have any more games this season.

Zuern was just about to ask for another glass of beer - Timbiqui Dark was liable to be in short supply for the while so he might as well enjoy it now since he'd be back on local ciders soon - when the display of sports scores was replaced by one of Poulsbo's talking heads, one who didn't even work for the sports channel.

"Change it back!" came a dozen protests from the patrons.

"I didn't change it at all," Flood grumbled, but he pulled the remote out from behind the bar and sent the signal for the sports channel without affecting the display at all. Then tried another channel only to find the same new programme. "What the hell?" he said and unmuted the channel.

"...interrupting your programmes," the talking head (Zyern couldn't recall his name offhand. Telly something? No, Terry and then W-something, he thought) apologised, but the commander of the military force that landed on Poulsbo earlier this week has demanded that all channels transmit an announcement as to their intentions. This announcement will last only a few minutes and be sent out on all public access video and audio channels. For those concerned about your schedules, all the stations have agreed to take ten minutes out of their news programmes later this evening so until then the broadcast schedules will be running ten minutes late."

Flood turned the volume down to a low rumble. "Bloody bastards," he grumbled. "First they bugger up the match and now they're interrupting our sports news. What'll they do next, insist on some arcane interpretation of offsides?" There were a ripple of chuckles as the tension at the news faded away. "Have you heard anything about this, Ciaphas?"

Zyern shook his head. "Not a thing. They aren't letting anyone into Fort Bangor or the ComStar station. Not that they're letting out anyway. The Commissioner was with the delegation from the Governor's Office that went there to ask who they were and what they intended to do on Poulsbo, and there hasn't been a word from any of them since they were allowed in. It's worrying a few people. More than a few."

"Well I guess we'll find out something in a moment," said Flood. "Hey, you guys keep it down," he shouted at the bikers. "I'll turn it up so we can all hear what they say for themselves." Matching action to words, he adjusted the volume.

The screen was showing yet another shot of that damn Mech standing in the middle of the football stadium. Zyern's son, who was in the battlemech kick so common to boys of that age, had assured him that it was an Assassin, a medium scout that was one of the fastest of all battlemechs. According to the statistics on the cardgame he'd bought for the boy last Christmas, it moved around a hundred and ten kilometres an hour over open ground and was armed with a medium laser and two different types of missiles. Not the sort of thing that Zyern ever wanted to have to flag down for a traffic violation, in other words.

Then the image on the camera changed and Zyern and half the men and women in the Happy Apple tensed as they had their first look at their new lords and masters.

The head that they saw was covered by an ornate helmet that leant it the aspect of a snake's head, black scales glittering in the lights of whatever studio this had been filmed in. Beneath the helmet, the face could have been a snake's too, for all that they could tell.

"People of Poulsbo," the figure said, its voice surprising many by not being a hiss. It was also clearly female voice. "You should all be aware that you are no longer part of the Lyran or Federated Commonwealth." The screen flickered slightly. "Your world is now a possession of the Star Adders. You undoubtedly find this different in many ways, however the essentials will matter little to the majority of you. I regret to advise you that you will continue to pay taxes." The joke fell a little flat since it was delivered with no trace of sympathy, feigned or otherwise, in the voice.

"These will be no more onerous than they already are, however. There are two definite restrictions that we are placing upon you however. Firstly, you will not be permitted to communicate with other worlds except through our facilities and by our consent. For the duration of the current war, you may assume that any world we have not conquered is off limits. Secondly, interstellar travel will be similarly limited. For those whose mercantile affairs require such travel, an office is being established through which you may apply for assistance in finding new markets or sources for the goods in which you deal."

"Your government will be restructured over the next year to more closely resemble ours. It will remain largely democratic as this is our own tradition, so only the general structure will be amended. The uppermost layer of your local government are being replaced with our own officials to carry out this transition. Wages will be paid, for the moment in the your existing currencies although these will be slowly phased out in favour of our own currency units. We are no so foolish as to believe that this will be a swift or easy transition, but nor do we intend to cause undue hardship for you or those on the other worlds that we have brought under our role."

"It is customary, I believe, to prate of the glorious benefits that you shall receive under our rule if only you accept it. Somewhat cynically, I suspect that you have learned to hold such claims as suspect. Therefore I ask only that you judge us by our actions. We Star Adders have a great capacity for warfare, but we do not make a merit of cruelty or of oppression. Seyla."

With that unfamiliar word, the signal ended and the bar was treated to the bemused expression on the talking head's face. "Well, those were the words of the representative of the Star Adders," he said redundantly. "We now return you to our scheduled programming."

"Star Adders?" One of the bikers at the bar said, somewhat incredulously when the football scores resumed on the screen. "Who the hell are they? I could see the League coming across the border..."

"Timid Tommy Marik?" another jeered. "Not a chance! He'd get kicked back to Atreus so fast he'd meet himself coming and he knows it. These Star Adders have got to be some band of periphery scumbags. Don't know what they're messing with I guess."

One of the girls frowned. "Jaime, we didn't see that woman's face. Maybe they aren't even human. No one's really seen them, have they? Not out of their Mechs and all that."

"Snake people from the periphery?" the first biker said and laughed incredulously. "I'll drink to that," he agreed and matched action to words, apparently oblivious to the glares he was getting from the other gang at the back of the room and from the oldest-looking member of that group that had come to the bar to collect the next round.

"What?" Jaime said challengingly. "You got a problem, punk?"

The man stared at him and Zyren noted with a degree of horror that the lines on his face were not tattoos, but some kind of piercing. The off-duty police officer reached discreetly into his pocket for his phone and gave Flood a significant look.

"It is you who has a problem," the biker said confidently. "You cannot hold your alcohol. You are vomiting all over the floor."

"Eh?" said Jaime, looking at his glass and then at the thus far pristine floor of the Happy Apple. "I ain't vo-"

The left cross hit him just below the ribs and Jaime discovered that he was in fact vomiting.

 

"And that was when the fight broke out, officer," Ned Flood said seriously to the sergeant who had arrived three minutes after the first punch. Fortunately for the bar's owner, the moment of warning had been enough for him to start lowering the security shutter that was usually used to lock away all the alcohol behind the bar when the Happy Apple was not open for business. That shutter was now dented to the point it would probably need the application of power tools to open, but that would be a great deal less expensive than if the biker thrown against it had crashed over the bar and into the racks of bottles behind it.

"Is that right, Ciaphas?" Sergeant Halverson asked. Flood had been know to stretch the truth a little on matters that might affect his license to serve alcohol or his insurance claims.

Zyern nodded miserably and kept the pad of medical gauze pressed against his broken nose. He was never going to hear the end of this.

The fight hadn't lasted three minutes, so the first sight that Halverson had seen when he entered the Happy Apple at the head of a squad had been a stack of bemused and beaten bikers being herded into a corner by only a handful of what they had taken for a rival gang.

"Right then," Halverson said reluctantly. The police would be outnumbered here. "All you lot are coming to the station now."

"I think not," the man who had thrown the first punch said. "We have not finished drinking yet."

"Saul," another of the gang said warningly. He turned to the sergeant. "Do not concern yourself. We have made arrangements."

"Arrangements!?" demanded Halverson. "Whaddaya mean arr-"

"Sarge," a constable said, walking into the bar quickly. "Just got a message from the Chief. He just got rousted by those Star Adders. Said that they told him they were sending two trucks down here to collect some people from this bar and that we were to co-operate completely with some fellow called Oscar who's on the scene."

"Oscar?" Halverson asked. "What's the rest of his name?"

"It is just Oscar," the biker who seemed to be in charge said, and smiled coldly. "As I told you. We have made arrangements."

"Fine. You're with these Star Adders then?" asked Halverson.

Oscar simply smiled. "When the truck arrives just put this lot aboard it," he said, gesturing to the bikers. "They seem like a spirited lot. There are uses for people like that."

"Uses?" Halverson didn't like the sound of that.

"Oh yes," chuckled Oscar. "Uses indeed. Now, do you have any questions before I get back to my drinking?"

"N- yes," Halverson corrected himself. "What should we do with their motorcycles?"

"Motorcycles?" the man asked, frowning. "What is a motorcycle?"

The sergeant blinked. Who were these people? Rather than commenting, he pointed them out through the window.

Oscar eyed them dubiously for a minute and then smiled wickedly. "Just give me the keys for them," he ordered.

Halverson sighed and then complied, making a mental note to warn the traffic police to watch out for the new bikers that he had inadvertantly inspired.

 

Fort Bangor, Poulsbo
Star Adder Occupation Zone
24 March 3050

Nina Caputo groaned and opened her eyes. It took her a moment to realise that the ceiling was not that of her quarters and she glanced around quickly, trying to orientate herself. There was a restraint preventing her from moving her neck - although the twinges of pain that trying caused were ample inducement not to do so in any case - and she pulled one hand out from under the covers to touch it lightly. A neck-brace, she realised. I must have been hurt when the hanger collapsed. There was a bracelet of three white cords around her wrist she noted and wondered at the cause.

The room was clearly a hospital ward and when she glanced at the windows it was evident from the buildings opposite that she was in a military facility - more than likely the base hospital of Fort Bangor. It wasn't until she gingerly lifted herself up on her elbows that she could see the statue-like figure standing by the door. Painted in a dark blue with black trim, it stood around seven feet tall with a squat head that was sunk into the broad shoulders - little more than a dome with a simple T-slit covered in some kind of polarised glass - and outsized arms that made it look almost apelike. Armour of some kind, she realised. This is a guard wearing metal body-armour. She glanced at the other beds, realising she was the only one awake. Do they really think that I am dangerous enough to require such precautions?

She didn't feel dangerous. Right now she didn't feel like she could take on a kitten in a wrestling match, much less a trained soldier - armoured or not.

The realisation that this armour must be much the same as that which was used by the soldiers who had forced their way into the ComStar complex made it clear which side had won the battle for Bangor Heights. Did my people escape? she wondered. Or are they prisoners, like me?

Nina was about to try to pull her self up the bed to rest her back against the headboard when the guard took a step forwards, the footstep loud in the quiet ward. My god, she thought, forgetting ComStar's mythology for the catholicism of her childhood. It's powered armour! No one could move that easily inside a metal suit unless it was augmented the same was as an exo-skeletal rig. Amazing.

"Do not move," the guard ordered her in such a clear accent that for a moment the Precentor thought she was back at Sandhurst Staff College on Earth, listening to the locals. "A physician will be here shortly."

Obediently, Nina relaxed. There was a laser emitter built into the right arm, she noted. And the rest of the system extended back into the torso of the suit. Even if she had been inclined towards resistance, it was clear that nothing short of a heavy weapons platoon would seriously inconvenience this soldier. "What is the date please?" she asked.

She half expected to be ignored, but instead the soldier readily answered her question. It was almost four days since the attack, she realised.

Any further effort to obtain information from the guard was cut off as a military surgeon that Nina recognised vaguely from one of the rare social gatherings that had drawn officers from both the AFFC garrison and the ComGuards as being one of the 42nd Avalon Hussars' medical officers entered followed by two nurses. Regardless of his offical status, the doctor quickly took charge of Nina, assessing her vitals and informing her between terse instructions to the nurses that she had suffered serious whiplash when the explosion of her autocannon ammo knocker her Shootist over, as well as a broken leg when portions of the hanger roof landed on her cockpit.

"Are you allowed to tell me what happened to my soldiers?" she asked him sotto voice.

He glanced at her and then at the guard before making sure that the amoured warrior could not see his face as he spoke. "The wounded are here along with those of the 42nd. The other combatant personnel are being held elsewhere. Their families are being allowed to visit them. It's all very civilised so far but everyone's waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"The other shoe?" Nina whispered incredulously. "From what you're saying they took apart a Regimental Combat Team and two-thirds of a ComGuards Division like it was a simple drill. As far as I can tell, the first shoe was filled with solid lead."

"I don't believe that it was entirely bloodless on their part," the Doctor said, "But they deal with their own dead and wounded. The fact is that no one has seen them without either that armour or -"

The door opened and another man walked in - at least, Nina took him to be a man. He wore polished black leather pants and jacket that glittered like snakeskin under the hosptial's lights. His face however was hidden by a snake-faced helmet that could have been ceremonial or -

No. It was ceremonial, Nina told herself firmly. Nothing more. She was not a child, to believe in alien sentient beings. ComStar's teachings made it clear that humanity was the apex of life in the universe. "Who're you?" she asked.

He ignored her, staring instead at the doctor. "Physician. You are to prepare a list of those wounded who are well enough to travel by jumpship and present it to our administration by the end of the day."

"By jumpship?" the Doctor exclaimed. "Well... yes. I'll make a list."

The man stared at him for a moment, his stance radiating disapproval for no reason that Nina could make out, then turned to Nina. "You were the commander of the ComStar military unit on Poulsbo," he said flatly.

"I know that," Nina told him. "What I don't know is who you are?"

"I speak for the Star Adders," he advised her coldly. "If you have... family on Poulsbo I suggest you consider whether you wish them to join you on one of your colonies. If they remain here, it is unlikely that you will ever see them again."

"I don't understand."

"The Star Adders are not so foolish as to leave potential bandits and dissidents on our conquered worlds," the man advised her. "You and the other captive warriors are being sent to one of our worlds where you will be settled and integrated into our society. Your families may join you or they may remain, but you are unlikely to ever leave our homeworlds again so choose wisely."

 

Dropship Gibraltar, Nadir Jump Point, Herzberg
Donegal March, Federated Commonwealth
10 April 3050

Leftenant Kai Allard-Liao slipped into the back of the small briefing room only a moment before the scheduled start time. Late enough in fact that the lights had already been dimmed and Hauptman-General Kaulkas was sorting his notes for the briefing on her podium. As a result of this, it was not until he had taken one of the open seats that he realised the identity of the dark-haired woman sat next to the seat. Given the naked hostility in Doctor Deidre Lear's eyes, he was half-tempted to look for another seat, but at that point the General cleared his throat and the room fell silent.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the commander of the Tenth Lyran Guards said gravely. "I have no doubt that it will not surprise any of you that our plans have changed. You are all aware that no battle plan survives contact with the enemy... and unfortunately, while we have not made contact with an enemy yet, the Sixth Lyran Guards who we were to replace on Althastan have made contact... and all reports indicate that they were defeated with relatively ease."

Kai inhaled sharply. The Sixth Lyran Guards were one of the finest regimental combat teams in the Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth. Twenty years ago the Tenth might have claimed the same title, but they had not seen any serious action since they were rebuilt after the end of the Fourth Succession War. A Marik army that could crush the Sixth would be unlikely to have any more trouble with the Tenth.

"As Althastan is now in enemy hands, obviously we will not be going there," Kaulkas continued. "Until we know what we are dealing with, the High Command does not intend to try to retake the world, or any of the others that have fallen over the last few weeks."

"More worlds?" exclaimed one of the company commanders in the front row. "Did Thomas Marik get married or something?"

"So far as the Ministry of Intelligence can determine, the Free Worlds League has nothing to do with this," Kaulkas said grimly. "Which is probably good news because if Thomas Marik had the ability to hit worlds from Poulsbo to Chateau then we might as well get used to wearing eagles instead of the sunburst fist on our uniforms. Whoever is attack us, we don't have the least idea who they are but the entire Periphery is on fire. Needless to say, that information is classified so don't go sharing it with civilians, but we've lost contact with two dozen worlds, more than half of them garrisoned with at least a regiment. There are only a handful of cases of troops managing to reach their dropships and escape."

"What we do know is that they use BattleMechs, Aerospace Fighters and Infantry. In all three cases, their equipment would give a Star League quartermaster wet dreams. But still. Mechs, Aerospace Fighters and Infantry. Not something that we haven't fought before," Kaulkas said, seeing the hit that morale was taking. "I'm not going to pretend that this isn't serious. It is - we haven't been hit like this since 3039 and we have to assume that this is going to get worse before it gets better. But the Federated Commonwealth is not going roll over for some Johnny-Come-Latelies skulking out of the Periphery!"

There was an abbreviated cheer from some of the younger officers at the back of the room. Kai was not one of them. Nor was Deidre Lear.

"Rather than making for Althastan," Kaulkas continued, satisfied with the response. "We are now heading for Buena where we will be based at the War College there. Copies of all reports on fighting these invaders will be sent to us there so that we can prepare a defensive strategy against them."

This is it, a voice whispered to Kai. This is where you fail your parents, and with them the entire Federated Commonwealth.

"Was Trellwan one of the planets attacked?" he asked out loud, pushing the voice down.

Kaulkas frowned. "No, Leftenant," he said, picking Kai out despite the darkness of the room. "However, several nearby worlds were so we must assume that Trellwan, the Twelth Donegal Guards and Prince Victor Steiner-Davion are in the path of the advance."

 

Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth
15 May 3050

"Another wave of attacks?" Hanse exclaimed as he saw the hologram in the Fox's Den update with the latest reports. Deep below Mount Royal, the small room was the centre of the entire Armed Forces of the Federated-Commonwealth with only its equivalent on Tharkad providing a rival when the royal court moved to his wife's capital world.

"Yes," Jackson Davion confirmed. With Hanse's nephew Morgan Hasek-Davion in the Lyran half of the Commonwealth organising the troops there against this new threat, Jackson and Hanse's old friend Ardan Sortek were the senior officers available, both watching as one of Justin's aides updated the new data. "It isn't good news. They are moving faster than anyone expected."

"I think we can confirm that they are deliberately targeting the best defended worlds first," Ardan said, pointing at the map where most of the golden dots representing worlds still under the control of the Federated Commonwealth lacked the codes that detailed frontline forces available to them. "The Periphery March has been shattered: there wouldn't be any serious defences left between Lost and Buena if the Eleventh and Nineteenth hadn't been moved up."

"Yes," Hanse agreed. "If we lose them then there's nothing to stop them from rolling right into the Donegal March and things are scarcely better in Tamar." His eyes lingered on dot flashing between gold and green - indicating that Trellwan, the world that his firstborn son was serving on, was now contested. "I think ComStar has more troops between the invaders in Tamar and the interior."

He traced a line from Sudeten near the Rasalhague border up to Chahar in the northern corner of the Periphery March and then down through Coventry and Alarion to Cavanaugh II on the border with Free Worlds League. "I don't think we want to get pushed back this far, gentlemen. What do you propose that we can do about this?"

"You mentioned ComStar," Reinhard Steiner, Jackson's aide offered. "They had a Division cut apart on Poulsbo - is there any chance of them doing anything useful?"

"Unfortunately, the Division on Butler did absolutely nothing," Jackson said. "Justin has unconfirmed reports that they are co-operating fully with the invaders on most of the worlds taken in the Tamar March. Poulsbo seems to be an abberation - or if the theory that there are different factions is right, maybe the one that took Poulsbo have even less patience with ComStar's sainted neutrality than we do."

Ardan was counting worlds. "They hit twenty-five worlds in the first wave," he commented. "More worlds than we hit in the first two waves of Operation Rat twenty years ago. Now they're hitting another thirty-five not even two full months later. Their logistics must be under a lot of pressure, particularly given the way they're spread out."

"And that is merely the worlds being attacked in the Federated Commonwealth," Justin Xiang-Allard said, having entered the room quietly during the conversation. "We don't know for sure because ComStar, for some unexplained reason is pretending that the invasion isn't happening, but they way that they're doing so has given us some idea of what worlds are being hit in the Free Rasalhague Republic and the Draconis Combine. Basically, they're falsifying the commodity reports from worlds that have been hit. We worked back through what they're reporting from our worlds that fell to work out where they were extrapolating from and then applied the same algorithm to work out which other planets are having faked figures reported."

He tapped at the console. "Neither has been hit as hard as we have in absolute terms, but the Republic has lost twelve worlds and the Combine has lost eleven, including Turtle Bay - where Hohiro Kurita was stationed. I don't have any reports on his whereabouts at this point, but it's safe to say that they aren't doing all that much better than we are militarily. While the invaders have hit the Republic and ourselves almost all along our border with the Periphery, they're only invading along about a third of the Combine's core and spinward edges."

"What about the Free Worlds League?" Reinhard asked. "How many worlds has Thomas Marik lost?"

"None," Justin said evenly. "For whatever reason, the League has not been attacked so far."

"Interesting." Hanse tapped his fingers on the table that supported the holodisplay. "The fact that Rasalhague and the Combine have also lost worlds suggests that the invaders are not concerned about - perhaps even ignorant of - the divisions between the Commonwealth and our allies and the other Successor States. However, in that case why not attack the League, or at least the Circinus Federation? Not doing so leaves Thomas with a strong border right on their flank, not to mention giving those piratical scum from Circinus what amounts to an open invitation to raid their supply lines."

"For once their larceny might do us all a favour," Jackson grunted and several other officers chuckled. The only reason that the grandly named Federation had not been conquered long since by either the League or the Commonwealth was that neither power would allow the other to occupy such a strategic location. As a result, raiders who no one could quite prove were from the Federation hit border worlds whenever they thought that they could get away with it.

"What is the status of our redeployments, Jackson," Hanse asked his distant cousin.

"Field Marshal Steiner," Jackson's counterpart in the Lyran State Command, "reports that the Deneb Light Cavalry regiments, the 20th Arcturan Guards and the 9th Federated Commonwealth RCT have all arrived on Sudeten and been placed under Morgan's direct command. The Eridani Light Horse have further to go but they expect to arrive early next month. The Lyran Guard units that were being sent out to the periphery have all been redirected to worlds that seem likely to be attacked soon. Their orders are to bloody their noses but to trade space for time and for information on how the invaders fight. Now that the Light Horse have been moved on, we're moving the jumpships that made up the command circuits for them to let us move troops out of the Draconis March."

"I don't like that," Henry Capston grumbled. The Marshal was representing his immediate superior, Field Marshal James Sandoval, the Duke of Robinson and therefore the civil and military leader of the Draconis March. "I know there are reports of the Snakes moving their regiments off the border, but Justin admitted himself that some of that information came through compromised sources. This could be a feint to convince us to weaken our borders and moving a tenth of our regiments would be playing into Theodore's hands."

Hanse nodded. "I understand your concerns, Henry," he agreed. "However, we have to reduce garrisons somewhere to reinforce the frontlines and with the Combine also under attack, your March is not looking desperately vulnerable. I am stripping the Crucis March bare and some of those troops will be moved to replace the units sent to Tamar and the Periphery. However, if we keep taking losses then you may be facing even more serious redeployments."

Capston subsided grudgingly. "Sorry to make a fuss," he said self-conciously, with an apologetic nod towards Melissa.

"It is your job to raise these concerns," Melissa assured him. "I don't mind telling you that I have my own qualms about weakening the Skye and Draconis Marchs, but if we don't stop the invaders then we may lose them anyway - to these invaders."

"Why, but they would have to have conquered the entire Draconis Combine and Lyran Commonwealth to do that, Archon Melissa," Capston said with a light chuckle that died a death as no one laughed with him.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

Fort Kershaw, Sinclair

Periphery

27 May 3050

Helen Candidy had never travelled by jumpship before she had been absconded away from Poulsbo. Mother always told me that I would get into
trouble hanging around with Jaime and his friends, she thought. I rather doubt that she thought I'd be shanghaied off to the far corners of the universe
after a bar brawl though.

She fingered the white cord around her wrist as she walked out of the dropship. There had been an explanation once she and the other girls in
the group woke up aboard a dropship heading away their homes. The cord marked her as a bondswoman to Clan Star Adder, which seemed to be a status somewhere
between slave and being declared mentally incompetant. If they worked hard and fit in then they would eventually become full members of the Clan, but until
then someone would always be acting as their guardians.

None of the girls had dared to kick up too much of a fuss about that - worlds less garrisoned than Poulsbo had been raided for slaves in
living memory - but when they saw the boys again, two had been missing. Apparently they had protested vehemently and resisted physically. The latter had been
totally pointless since the Star Adders seemed to include a disproportionate number of bodybuilders and the duo had been dragged off and never seen again.
Given how cramped the bondsmen and -women had found a dropship to be, that suggested that the two protestors had been disposed off in the permanent fashion
available to a dropship that was several million kilometres from the nearest planet.

The scene outside the dropship was not quite what she had expected. For reasons that Helen had no idea of the spaceport was not the usual
massive flat plain of concrete that she had expected from the media. Instead, it was tier after tier of levelled concrete rising up the side of a mountain,
over looking a military base not really all that different from what she had seen of Fort Bangor and a port city beyond it. The sky was grey and rain water
pooled here or there on the ground where it had not quite reached the drainage channels cut discreetly into the concrete - clearly the result of rain earlier
in the day.

After her pause to absorb the surroundings was cut short by the next bondsman in line pushed her roughly out of the hatch, Helen descended
the stairs to the concrete and the 'welcoming committee' that was staring up at them, annoyed looks on their faces. Even the women in the ten-strong
group seemed to be at least six feet high at the shoulder - the tallest of the men was at least a head taller than that - and their postures simply screamed to
the young biker than they considered themselves to be on an entirely different level from the new arrivals, regardless of whether they were bikers, captured
soldiers and in some cases their families or the scrapings of every juvenile detention centre on Poulsbo.

There were several hundred prisoners being brought in from Poulsbo just on this one dropship and from what little that Helen had heard there
were at least two more dropships carrying the human booty of these Star Adder's conquest of her homeworld. But even adding in more dropships to carry more
conventional loot and battlefield salvage wouldn't begin to account for how busy this port was. There were at least a score of dropships loading and
unworking, with space for far more than that.

On the concrete, Helen was pushed off to one side by the 'handlers' along with the rest of her friends, the juvies and several of the
near-adult children of the military types. The last caused a certain amount of agitation until one of the handlers pointed out that they had all been brought
here at no small expense and asked somewhat sarcastically whether "the humble telephone was now regarded as lostech in the Inner Sphere'.

With that settled the now ex-soldiers and their families were carted off in buses, an event that seemed to relax the handlers somewhat. Some
of the bondsmen also relaxed, feeling that this would make them safer. Helen, seeing the smiles on their new lords and master's faces was not so sure.
Those smiles were more predatory than welcoming.

"Form three lines!" shouted one of the handlers, his compatriots moving forward to push and pull the bondsmen into the desired
formation. "I am Drill Instructor Quinn! These warriors around you are also your drill instructors! When you speak to any drill instructor, the first and
the last words out of your mouths will be Sir! Do you understand me?"

There was a rumble of various responses from the bondsmen, then several cries of alarm as every drill instructor punched or kicked the
nearest available target.

"I did not hear that!" Quinn bellowed. "I know that you are all snivelling Inner Sphere brats, but you are all medically
capable of hearing me and of speaking at an audible level! Now, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

"Sir, yes sir!" Helen called along with some of the smarter bondsmen.

"What was that?"

"SIR, YES SIR!" every bondsman shouted with what could creditably be called enthusiasm. Enthusiasm not to become the next victims
at any rate.

Quinn nodded grudgingly. "Better," he said. "Not good. Not good at all. But better." He walked up and down, looking at
them suspiciously. "You are all here because a Warrior of Clan Star Adder believes that there is a small, small possibility that you might be worthy of
one day being considered fellow Warriors." He paused. "I believe that they are wrong. The nine warriors around you have been given the job of
knocking you into shape and bringing you to the condition expected of those who would be trained as warriors. I, however, have a very different responsibility.
My role is to find reason to remove every one of you that is not worthy of being considered a warrior from this training."

There was a ripple of unspoken confusion through the ranks.

"Oh?" Quinn sneered. "Some of you are thinking that you do not want to be warriors of Clan Star Adder?" He smiled.
"You would all do well to remember what I am telling you: there are five castes among the Clans. The Warriors are the highest caste. As bondsmen you are
members of the lowest Caste, the Labourers. If it is your earnest desire to spend your lives lifting and carrying then by all means, tell me now and you will
be quickly sent to where you can learn how to use a shovel to start cleaning sewers."

"Now that that is done with, it is time for you to visit your new homes," he concluded. "The barracks that you will occupy are
three miles away. A nice, bracing run to warm you up. Drill Instructor Maeve will lead the way. I will be taking up the rear. And anyone who cannot maintain a
pace I find satisfactory will be... motivated to find out if they are unfit or merely idle." The smile on his face made it clear whatever that motivation
would consist of in detail, in general it would be far more stick that carrot.



Romulus

Jade Falcon Occupation Zone

3 June 3050

"What are you up to, Virgilia Truscott?" Leo Showers growled as the holo projector in the recreation room of the Jade Falcon
dropship Turkina's Command displayed a map of the valley that Elias Crichell had nominated as the Circle of Equals for the trial.

"Up to?" Virgilia said with an air of innocence. "I do not have time to get up to anything, Leo Showers. If I did not know
with absolute certainty that Elias would throw a tantrum for me not watching the Trial, I would be catching up with my paperwork right now. Even with Roderick
back in the Homeworlds handling the day to day matters, I am still supposed to stay on top of matters after all."

Showers sneered. "Of course. Well if it is such a distraction for you, then why did you challenge the Jade Falcons for their contract
with the Snow Ravens?"

The contract in question had provided the Jade Falcons with a quarter of the Snow Raven fleet to protect their supply lines against Inner
Sphere raiders during the invasion. It was an elegant solution that left the Falcon's own fleet of warships, such as the Turkina's Pryde that was a
currently in orbit over Romulus, free to fight the Inner Sphere's fleets at the spear head of the invasion. There was only one problem.

The Inner Sphere apparently did not have any warships.

Every source, including that highly suspicious 'Precentor Martial' that Ulric Kerensky seemed to place so much trust in, agreed that
the last warships of the Successor States' once extensive fleets had been destroyed two hundred years ago. The result was that the Jade Falcons were left
with ten warships that they didn't actually need and were paying for this 'privilege' with hefty shipments of raw materials and finished goods to
Clan Snow Raven.

Enter Khan Virgilia Truscott, representing the only Clan that apparently cared so little about the invasion that they had only sent one of
their Khans along with it. Once it had become apparent that the Snow Raven ships were merely marking time, the Star Adder Khan had approached Elias Crichell
and challenged him for possession of the contract. The notion that Truscott was willing to pay an obscene sum for temporary control over ships that were a
thousand light years away from any legitimate activity by her Clan had been enough to persuade Leo Showers that this might be more important than riding herd
on the Wolves (who were getting ahead of the Smoke Jaguars, something that he found intolerable).

It had taken only a little juggling of schedules (which would not at all inadvertantly probably cost the Wolves at least a week to straighten
out) for him to arrange an improvised command circuit to Romulus, arriving just after the bidding was done.

"Can you imagine the paperwork involved in bringing a Naval Star all this way?" Virgilia asked with a shudder. "You must have
been glad to hand all that off to your replacement when you were elected IlKhan, Leo."

"I planned the entire invasion," he reminded her harshly only to be shushed before he could remember that that was entirely
irrelevant to his line of enquiry.

"They are starting," Virgilia reprimanded him, eyeing the holo table enthusiastically in a fashion that reminded Leo uncomfortably
of some of the lower castes he had seen watching replays of a Trial of Bloodright as if it had been entirely for their benefit.

Realising that he was not going to get anything useful out of her Leo sat back and watched as ten green dots and ten blue dots started moving
across the holograph, denoting the locations of the two points of infantry that each Clan had bid for the trial. One of the Star Adder points didn't seem
to be moving very much and the second had moved forwards just barely enough to screen them from the rapidly advancing Jade Falcons.

"I knew that your Clan are not the most practised in the use of infantry," Leo observed, "So I shall be generous and let you
know that having half your forces about to be pincered by all of the Jade Falcon Elementals is not a go- What in Kerensky's Name was that!?" he
exclaimed at the top of his voice as one of the Jade Falcon points suddenly sprouted damage icons around their representations on the holotable, despite being
well over two hundred metres from the nearest Star Adders.

-/-

Only a few kilometers away, that was more or less what Point Commander Ceden of the Jade Falcon Keshik was saying as he examined the damage
to his armour from behind what he sincerely hoped was adequate cover.

"Jeebers is dead," one of his point reported. "Two of those lasers hit him. Did the Adders sneak a Battlemech into the Trial
without telling us?"

"Two damn hits?" Ceden snapped in fury. The reality of Elementals fighting against Elementals were that any suit could usually
survive three seperate hits from the lasers that they carried. They also didn't have weapons that could reach more than two hundred meters. Those rules
appeared to have been revoked for the Star Adders.

His radio chimed. "Ceden," snapped Star Commander Mon Thastus. "What's keeping you? Their suits have us pinned down. Hit
their rear before the second point gets close enough to get involved."

"They are involved," Ceden told him sourly and raised his laser above the edge of the boulder, sweeping the gun camera across the
hillshide above the. He lowered his arm quickly as several more shots sizzled through the air over his head and swore as he replayed the gunsight pictures on
his HUD. "The other point is wearing some sort or reinforced armour and they are firing cut down Battlemech lasers at us. I have one dead and two
injured."

Mon Thastus paused. "They are over three hundred metres away from you," he said reasonably.

"Cut down medium lasers."

The silence this time was illustrative. Mon Thastus was of the opinion that swearing in front of his subordinates was undignified. Ceden
could almost hear the temptation in the silence before the Star Commander replied. "Very well. When I give the word, use your jumpjets to pop up and hit
the nearer star with your missiles then get back under cover. We will do the same. That may weaken them enough that we can overwhelm them."

Personally, Ceden was sceptical of this. On the other hand, what else was there to do? He gestured for his
point to spread out and on Mon's order, each fired their jump jets, soaring abruptly up into the air more than fifty metres. At the apex of their leaps,
they fired off the short range missiles mounted in their backpacks, raining high explosive missiles down onto the Star Adder battle armour. Combined with the
missiles from Mon Thastus' point, the explosions engulfed the Star Adders momentarily and Ceden hoped for a moment that they had been hurt badly enough to
prevent retaliation.

Instead, five lasers lashed out of the fire and smoke, slashing into three of the suits in Mon's point. One suit lost an arm
while another simply disintegrated as the laser bit into the backpack and the missile reload stored there. More lasers reached down the slope from the second
Star Adder point and two of Cedon's point hit the ground in pieces, leaving only himself and one other alive. At least Jade Falcon warriors were dead and
he didn't think that even one of the Star Adders had fallen.

-/-

Elias Crichell was self-controlled enough not to react obviously as three of the green lights on the display blinked out. Timur Malthus was
twitching irritably however, Virgilia noted with satisfaction. "It's been more than a hundred years since there was any significant improvement on
Elemental battle armour," she told Leo quietly. "My scientist caste suggested applying the last few decades' advances in laser technology to
them. It seems to work quite well, wouldn't you say?"

"That is true," Leo Showers admitted. Another green light winked away and there wasn't one that lacked damage markers. "A
shame you did not introduce them earlier. There are two seperate types, are there not?"

Virgilia nodded. "The Fang and the Long Fang. Both are quite a bit heavier than the standard Elemental - the scientists had to build a
whole new generation of jumpjets to bring the Fang up to the same level of mobility. They could just be exagerating their exertions of course, it is a
time-honoured tradition after all, but the results are quite impressive. The Long Fang was actually easier, or so I'm told, for all that it is almost twice
as large as an Elemental."

Leo nodded. "There is a jest amongst my clan regarding your clan's tactics, Virgilia Truscott. 'How does one disable a Star
Adder scout Mech?'"

"Oh?" she said. "Well, by all means share this secret Smoke Jaguar tactic with me, Leo Showers."

"'Shoot the Kingfisher when it slows down'," the ilKhan advised her. "Some how it does not surprise me that you have
overcome your distaste for infantry by making them larger."

A blue light winked out as the surviving Jade Falcon Elementals managed to get into close quarters with the Star Adder Fangs,
but so did two more of the Elementals.

"This is wasteful," Showers said, deliberately raised his voice enough for the two Jade Falcon Khans to hear him. He
shook his head at the implied question in Crichell's inquisitive glance.

The senior Jade Falcon Khan placed one hand on Timur Malthus's shoulder and whispered a brief instruction, clearly prompting
the younger man to do something that he found distasteful. Grudgingly, Timur stood and bowed slightly in the direction of Virgila and the ilKhan. "Khan
Truscott, my forces have been defeated."

Virgilia stood and bowed before tapping her microphone. "Cease fire and break off," she ordered sharply, then looked
up at Malthus, who was giving similar orders. "Khan Malthus, your honourable surrender is accepted. Once again, Clan Jade Falcon have shown the sharpness
of their talons."

Malthus shook his head angrily. "It is your Star Adders who have shown their worth here," he growled reluctantly. On
the screen, only two green lights indicated surviving Elementals while eight Star Adder warriors were moving slowly back from their opponents. "I shall
advise Khan Lynn McKenna of the outcome of this trial and remove all Jade Falcon warriors from the warships."

"And what will you do with this fleet?" Leo Showers asked firmly. "I will not allow you to evade this question,
Virgilia Truscott. We have all been reminded recently of the power that even one warship possesses. Now you control ten such ships - four cruisers, three
transports and three corvettes. It is not a small force by any reckoning."

The Khan of the Star Adders smiled broadly. "ilKhan, I have advised you before that I feel your plans for the invasion are
doomed to failure. I will use this fleet to secure forward bases for my Clan to defend the Homeworlds in the Periphery rather than upon the sacred soil of the
Pentagon Worlds or even Strana Mechty itself."



ComStar First Circuit Compound

Hilton Head Island, Terra

20 July 3050

Myndo Waterly waved her hand to direct Sharilar Mori towards a seat in the Primus' office. For the room from which humanity's
homeworld was ruled, it was remarkably unassuming. As Waterly's replacement as Precentor Dieron and head of all of ComStar's stations within the
Draconis Combine, Mori was among the few that knew of Waterly's other, more opulent office located deeper inside the complex. This office was merely the
public face of ComStar's leader.

"The Precentor Martial has sent another communique from his sojourn amongst the Inner Sphere's newest players," the Primus
advised her. "It's really quite revealing."

She tapped at a control on her desk, reminding the younger woman irresistably of a spider touching its webs, and a holographic display of
ComStar's military commander appeared above what appeared to be no more than a simple coffee table. Anastasius Focht was a tall man and although his hair
was entirely white, there was no sign of weakness in him. He wore the red and gold-trimmed white uniform of a ComGuards officer without rank insignia: his
face, and the black patch covering what had once been his right eye was almost enough to identify him to his soldiers without any further hints.

"The Peace of Blake be with you, Primus," he said, the hologram still pointing his face towards the desk. "I received your
confirmation of the agreement reached with the Khan of Clan Wolf and the ilKhan has extended this agreement to cover the other invading clans: the Jade Falcons
in the Federated Commonwealth, the Ghost Bears along the border of the Draconis Combine and the Free Rasalhague Republic and his own Smoke Jaguars within the
Combine itself."

Sharilar looked sharply up at her senior who paused the recording. "Yes, interesting is it not? There is no mention of the fifth of
these Clans participating in the invasion, the one that is causing so much havoc in the peripheral regions of the Federated Commonwealth."

"A seperate group perhaps? There must be a connection given the similar battlemechs," Sharilar speculated. The Primus simply shook
her head and tapped at her controls, letting the message continue.

"I have been unable to obtain firm information on their homeworlds or civilian population but it is clear from their logistics that they
must lie a considerable distance away from the Inner Sphere. It would appear that they require relatively little direct supervision however, as I have heard
that the Khans of every Clan are present in the invasion, those whose Clans are not directly involved observing events here.While the ilKhan is the supreme
warlord of these people, his role seems to be more that of co-ordinating their efforts, something that can be difficult given their internal
disagreements."

"To give a recent example, the ilKhan recently had to travel into the worlds occupied by the Jade Falcons to settle a clash between that
clan and representatives of the Clan Star Adder. The latter Clan seems to be poorly thought of, but the information I have amassed from various remarks
indicates that they were successful in a clash of arms and had in some fashion undermined an alliance between the Jade Falcons and a Clan Snow Raven. The
underlying cause of this battle is unclear to me but the fact that the Star Adders had sufficient forces present to challenge the Jade Falcons may imply that
other Clans have forces waiting to join the invasion if needed."

Waterly cut the replay off. "There's nothing of any great importance in the rest of his report," she said in a casual voice
that didn't fool Sharilar in the least. "However, the fact these Star Adders are to all practical purpose in schism from the rest of their people
raises several interesting possibilities."

"The Jade Falcons are the nearest clan to their invasion routes," Sharilar noted. "And since they have already apparently been
defeated once, were they to learn of this then it might lure them into attacking their rivals."

"Indeed. It also suggests that the defeat of one Clan may well simply lead to the arrival of a replacement army," Waterly pointed
out, "Something that could be quite useful if the Successor States are too successful in combating the Clans. It will be interesting to see how Victor
Steiner-Davion's little counterattack progresses."

Sharilar frowned. "A counter attack?"

"Oh yes," the Primus smiled patronizingly. "They are being very cagey about the actual details, but the messages that they are
sending were quite easy for ROM's analysts to unravel. A small fleet of jumpships to carry a force of four regiments deep into the Clan occupation zone.
Very bold, very daring..."

"Prince Victor is very young," nodded Sharilar in understanding.

"Indeed." Waterly smiled cruelly. "There is an excellent chance that by overwhelming one of their garrisons that he will
awaken the Jade Falcons to the need for greater rear area security and better information on the movements of the Inner Sphere. Two needs that ComStar will be
well placed to fill and the information on the activities of their errant kinfolk would certainly be an excellent tool to bring this opportunity to their
attention, would it not?"



Avalon City, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

27 July 3050

Justin looked up in surprise as Melissa Steiner-Davion entered his study in the St Ives Embassy. "Is something the matter, Archon?"
he asked in a concerned voice. What could be so urgent that she would take time out of her busy schedule to visit him when she would surely see him in the
morning for the regular briefings that he provided and any time she could spare was almost invariably spent with the children who were still at
home.

"I was hoping to speak to Candace, before she left for St Ives," Melissa told him, "But I've missed her, evidently. I hope
you don't mind being second choice to speak to."

Metaphorically setting aside his role as Minister of Intelligence, Justin rose and ushered her to one of the armchairs that framed a small
coffee table. "I'm always glad to see you, Melissa," he assured her. "You're worried about Victor, I presume."

Melissa smiled. "Is it so obvious?" she said wryly. "I'm hardly the only mother with children in harm's way,
but..."

"I don't think until I understood how my father must have felt when we decided that I would be sent into exile until I realised that
I had agreed to sending Kai into the teeth of an invasion," Justin admitted. "At the time I felt it was my duty and I suspect that Kai and Victor
feel the same way, without any idea how much we want to recall them."

"Selfish of us, isn't it," Melissa asked sadly.

"It is a little harder for us. However much the other parents might wish that they could have their children brought home to them, we
are among the few who could give the order and have it happen. Well, have Kai brought home, anyway. I'm sure Victor would have to be dragged and no doubt
he'll be wary of that now."

She giggled like a school girl at that. "It was so very like Victor, wasn't it? Having to be knocked out and physically carried onto
a dropship to get him away from a battle."

"He was always stubborn," Justin agreed. "However, he's learnt more than a little of strategy, Melissa. The plan is a
sound one. Twycross is well behind the Jade Falcon advance and he will likely face only garrison forces. What reports we have of them make them considerably
less formidable than the elite units of their spearheads. And we need a victory. You've seen the same reports I have about the morale of the troops moving
to face the Clans."

"But why must he go!?" Melissa exploded. "He's the only eligible heir that Hanse and I have, he's... Justin, he spent
so many years on Tharkad - almost half a year at a time without either of us since mother died. Sometimes I think that I've barely been a mother to him,
the way I was to the others!"

Justin shook his head. "In many ways Victor has more of you in him than he has of his father," he said. "Hanse was the younger
brother, given freedoms that neither Ian, Victor or you could have. He was raised on Tharkad remember. He's fighting for his home and because he does so,
he will inspire others to do the same. I will grant you that Victor is young, but he is no less your son than you are Katrina's daughter. Andrew Redburn
told me of the Silver Eagle, how you were willing to sacrifice yourself for the sake of others then. Now Victor is willing to do the same, to stand between
civilians and harm. That's the duty of a soldier, but it is the duty of a ruler to lead soldiers in doing so."

"I cannot promise you that Victor will survive this, Melissa. But I can tell you that he has taken every precaution and that he did so
with Morgan Hasek-Davion poking holes relentlessly in those plans. And if he succeeds then Victor will have given us all hope that the Clans can be beaten,
that no matter how battered the Commonwealth is we can still stand up and trade blows against them."

"I've felt this same fear before, on Sian when Hanse was carving the Capellans apart. I knew how they hungered for any sign of hope.
That's why the attack on Sian succeeeded: Maxmilian Liao desperately needed to show his people a victory to give them heart and he didn't question the
good fortune of having Morgan as a prisoner until it was too late. Victor is not doing this for himself. He's doing this for his people and I'm sorry
Melissa. As a mother you may fear this but as his ruler you have no right to deny him it."

"Victor is going to Twycross and if you stop him then you will destroy him as your heir."



Buena War College, Buena

Periphery March, Federated Commonwealth

17 August 3050

This time Kai arrived in plenty of time for the briefing, enough time to take a seat well away from Deidre Lear. He still didn't know why
the woman hated him - something to do with his family she presumed for at their first meeting when they did not exchange names, she had seemed if anything to
enjoy talking to him. It was only when they were introduced at the New Year's Party that she's started treating him as if he'd killed her
dog.

He would like to think that his continued curiousity about the reason for her reaction was simply due to the fact that it had been impossible
for them not to see each other almost every day on the voyage out to the Periphery, but even through the two week field exercise that the Guards had run on
arrival to get their warriors back up to form after the forced inactivity of the journey he hadn't been able to shake the issue despite the fact that he
hadn't seen her at all: the medical staff had been settling into the facilites at the college.

A second exercise, this one to co-ordinate efforts with the War College's Training Battalions - one BattleMech unit and two each of
infantry and armour - had given Kai an appreciation for all the money that had been invested into the Commonwealth's newest Academy - the cadets were
rookies, but rookies who had been trained as well as most of his class at New Avalon Military Academy. He had to admit that it was a little disturbing how many
of them had gravitated towards him when they were not on duty, not pressing him about his social or political ties which he had long since learned how to
handle gracefully, but wanting to discuss his performance in the La Mancha simulation during his own final year at the Academy. The tale of the first ever
victory over the gruelling examination (followed a week later by a similar success by the heir to the Commonwealth) had apparently circulated through the
military grapevine.

Still, if the story inspired them, Kai was hard pressed to complain. The Clans had rolled right over some of the best regiments in the Inner
Sphere. If his presence, despite his complete lack of any actual combat experience, did anything to counter the impact that that had had on morale, then he was
all in favour of it. And at least they had a name for the invaders now: Clan Wolf right on the Rasalhague border, Clan Jade Falcon in Tamar and Clan Star Adder
out on the periphery. What those names signified was still a mystery however.

"Gentlemen, ladies," the commander of the 10th Lyran Guards said. "Thank you," he added as the room quietened.
"I'm sure that the rumour mill is already at work so I will keep this to the point. Six hours ago a force of Star Adders arrived at a pirate point
around the third planet in this system. They are currently making the journey from that jump point to Buena and are expected to arrive within the next two
days."

General Kaulkas was looking more satisfied than any member of the AFFC should at delivering the news that an invasion force was on its way to
the world with whose defense he was entrusted. "Allow me to clarify," he said loudly. "One Star Adder jumpship, carrying no more than four
dropships, arrived in the system. The data we have makes it clear than these 'Star Adders' require two seperate dropships to move one of their
frontline regiments. They cannot be deploying more than two such units against us, so it appears likely that they are not aware that they are facing an entire
Regimental Combat Team."

"Needless to say, this gives us an opportunity. It is clear from the reports that we have that the Clans have a formidable technological
advantage, however until now they have struck with comparable numbers to their targets. This time however, we have an advantage of two or three to one over
them, which should counterbalance this. Our strategy will therefore be to draw them away from their dropships, isolate portions of their forces and overwhelm
them with our numbers."

Kaulkas looked at their solemn faces. "This is for real, boys and girls. These reports that have made it off occupied worlds don't
report any prison camps for captured warriors. It is entirely possible that the Clanners aren't taking prisoners. Thousands of our fellow soldiers have
simply vanished in the wake of the invasion. Now they've screwed up and we can can give them back a little of what they've been dishing out. However, I
want prisoners. We need to know where they came from so that once they're stopped we can take the fight back to them."

"This is what we came here for. Now it's time to make your families, your Archon, and most importantly me proud of
you."
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

Ciudad del Mar, Buena

Periphery March, Federated Commonwealth

19 August 3050

There had been surprisingly little opposition as the 28th Dragoon Cluster landed on Buena. That might have been because their inital landing
site was near the planetary capital in the northern hemisphere rather than near Fort Buena, which was on a completely different continent and halfway around
the planet. The Fort, which was closely associated with a major training facility, or so Star Colonel Kayla understood, would be far better
protected.

Oh, the militia had done their best, but despite air support that had made a daring sub-orbital loop of the planet to attack her dropships
during disembarkation, they had melted in the face of her Dragoons. After the hectic pace of the invasion so far for the Cluster such an easy landing had been
a relief, she thought, sitting on the foot of her Stormcrow and examining the reports from units that had fanned out through the capital to secure the centre
of government and the HPG station. She supposed that given the supposed neutrality of ComStar it made sense to place the station well away from a military base
where raids might inadvertantly endanger it, but it left the installation pathetically easy to capture, far more simple than the reports from Poulsbo had
described. After hearing about that battle, she'd been careful to carry out aerial reconnaissence of ComStar installations before sending in the
troops.

"Star Colonel?" someone called and she looked up to see Star Captain Wesley, one of her infantrymen, approaching. His towering Fang
battle armour seemed out of place even to Kayla, compared to the smaller Elemental suits she was more familiar with. "Star Colonel, we may have a
problem."

Kayla frowned at him. "What sort of problem?" she asked him suspiciously.

Wesley pointed with one hand at the wing of the aerospace fighter that had crashed near their landing site. "That white horse head is
the same marking that Iota Galaxy found on the Mechs they fought on Althastan, suggesting that this is a regiment of the same nature - a frontline force rather
than the training unit we expected to find. The captured records that have been deciphered by our scientists did not mention another such unit here, but if
there is one then it could be one of their regimental combat teams."

"That would be unfortunate," Kayla admitted. The initial waves of the invasion had concentrated several frontline clusters to deal
with large troop concentrations such as regimental combat teams. "What are these troops called?"

"The Lyran Guards," Wesley said. "Supposedly one of the better formations of troops in the Lyran army."

Kayla grimaced. "I hate doing this," she confided and then opened a channel to the ships in orbit. "Put me through to Star
Colonel Hayden." It took only a moment for the commander of the garrison cluster scheduled to take over on Buena once she had secured it to respond.
"I want the 112th Garrison Cluster and every aerospace fighter on the Pompeii and the Rickenbacker deployed in support," she ordered. The dropship
Edward Rickenbacker was one of a handful of fighter carriers built on the same hull as the standard troop transports used by the Star Adders. Between that and
the fighters from the Volga-class transport that had carried them to Buena, she would almost treble the fighters available to her 28th Dragoon Cluster and the
112th. "In fact, order the Pompeii to make any preparations necessary to provide supporting fire from orbit. It may not be necessary, but it would seem
that the defenders have been reinforced."

"How bad is the situation, Star Colonel?" Hayden asked seriously.

"We could be facing a full regimental combat team," admitted Kayla. "The casualties from confronting such a force with a
single cluster would be unacceptable."

Hayden considered his options. "They have not fought against a garrison force before," he noted, "So they will have no way of
knowing the exact capabilities of my command. What is your plan?"

"Attrition," Kayla explained. "It will be necessary to thin their numbers significantly before a decisive engagement. I want
you to fight a hit and run campaign against their forces on the Dominika continent. Ideally, I want you to draw them away from their base at Fort Buena and so
that I can seize it with my Cluster. At that point, they will lack the logistical base necessary to continue the campaign."

The other Star Colonel was silent for a moment as he considered the situation. "Their main base is located on the eastern coast, which
is not the best terrain for tanks. I will land at their western port and secure the city. They will have the opportunity to attack what appears to be an
isolated garrison force. Once they are moving across the continent, you should be able to carry out a quick orbital hop and block them from their
base."

"It has the virtue of simplicity," agreed Kayla.

"All good plans are simple," Hayden told her. A few years her elder, he sometimes had the bad habit of talking to her as if she was
fresh from the Sibko. She had thought that she'd gotten rid of that habit after he was retired to a backwater posting. Unfortunately, it seemed that the
backwater had been Sinclair and he'd won command of a Garrison Cluster. Kayla had been looking forward to leaving him here on Buena, but after the pounding
that his Cluster was probably going to take in this operation, another Cluster would be assigned to that and he'd remain in the Delta Galaxy
reserve.

"I was thinking that you might remember the plan for more than five minutes if it was simple," she told him half-seriously.
"You are forty now, and I hear that the mind goes when you get old."

"I am only thirty eight years old," Hayden lied. He'd been claiming that for the last three years, despite the evidence to the
contrary.





Dominika, Buena

Periphery March, Federated Commonwealth

26 August 3050

"Sir," the intelligence officer reported to General Kaulkas. "There are two dropships moving towards Fort Buena from the east.
Their current path will have them overflying it and landing somewhere near your position. We think that they've realised that we're
here."

Kaulkas sighed. The opportunity to catch the Clans unawares had seemed too good to be true and the last few days had been ample proof of
this.

For the last week, the fast moving Clan tanks and helicopters had been carrying out an exemplary mobile campaign against his force. Oh, their
numbers were being nibbled away at but the the casualties were painfully high - only yesterday a pair of the helicopters had caught one of his heavy tank
battalions struggling through a swampy lakeside that had looked like perfectly firm ground to the scouts. Both had been destroyed but it had cost the battalion
more than a third of its forty-eight tanks destroyed and to add to what had been a miserable day, it had taken the rest of the day for them to get half the
survivors out of the fire-ravaged swamp and they were currently in reserve, morale shattered.

If Andreas Kaulkas ever found the grave of whatever bastard had invented the inferno short ranged missile he'd have the body dug up and
hung for crimes against humanity. The Star Adders were almost obscenely fond of the weapons and their suicidal willingness to close in and use the napalm
warheads was proving lethally effective against his armoured units while the tanks and helicopters had proven too fast moving for him to close in with the two
battalions of Battlemechs that he had brought out from Fort Buena or concentrate his forces without giving them opportunity to slip past him.

"Alright. We'll pull back to the Certamain Line," he decided, designating a line of hills within the western foothills of
Dominika continent's spinal mountains. "That should ensure that they don't drop right on our heads but leave us in position to close in as soon as
we know where they come down."

"Should we bring in Second Battalion or the Training Battalion?" Leftenant General Kelly Danvers, the actual commander of the
Guards RCT's Battlemech Regiment asked. She hadn't been happy about leaving a large detachment of the 'Thundering Herd's' forces to protect
Fort Buena and the War College, even with the disparity in numbers.

Kaulkas considered and then shook his head. "No, if they're pulling a bluff then I want to keep those two Battalions in reserve.
However, have the tanks and infantry pull forward to join us. They're well aware that their own conventional troops have been savaging our forces, so being
at full strength may still surprise them." He looked around his officers. "However, the other reason for picking the Certamin Line is that we have
several of our dropships concealed just behind the hills. If things go poorly for us, we will fall back on them and load our casualties aboard to get them off
planet and then the rest of us head for the War College and the rest of the transports."

"Abandon Buena?" she protested. "We can't do that!"

"We're not here to stop them, Kelly," the General sighed. "Even if we were able to beat them back this time they'd
come back with more troops. That would be good, since those troops wouldn't be pressing deeper into the Commonwealth, but my orders are clear. The
Commonwealth has more planets than it has regiments and we've already lost far too many troops. If we can't hold them then we'll bleed them as much
as we can and then move back to regroup. Trade space for time."

"Time for us to retreat further."

"No," Kaulkas told them. "Time for reinforcements to arrive from the FedSuns Marches and for the factories on Hesperus to
start producing upgrades to even the playing field."





Dominika, Buena

Periphery March, Federated Commonwealth

27 August 3050

Almost five hundred kilometers to the west, the 10th Lyran Guards and elements of the Buena War College's field forces were still
sparring inconclusively with the battlemechs and battle armour of the 28th Dragoons and the vehicles of the 112th Garrison Cluster. What the planet's
defenders hopefully hadn't realised was that the 112th was not only made up of tanks and helicopters. Their armoured infantry Stars and the Asps from the
28th Dragoons had not yet appeared, except in token amounts in the planetary capital of Ciudad del Mar. The reason for this of course was that virtually none
of them were present to fill out the apparent garrison. More than forty of each had been quietly loaded into an improvised squadron of shuttles and during the
previous night those shuttles had circled Buena, flying low and fast across the trackless oceans to deliver their cargos to the shores of Dominika.

More precisely, the troops had dropped onto the mouth of the river that, two-dozen kilometers inland, ran between Fort Buena and Buena War
College. Simple pragmatism meant that the river was mined with sensors capable of detecting Battlemechs if those behemoths tried to use the river as a road
past sentries and defenders, but Star Colonels Kayla and Hayden were ambling that a nine-ton Asp, even burdened with a three-quarter ton Ape, would not trigger
those sensors. And even underwater, an Asp could travel the distance between shore and their targets in just over an hour.

The group moved in silence, operating on minimal emissions to reduce the chances of being detected. Each point followed a leader through the
water, navigating by dead-reckoning and communicating only by hand signals. The sun was above the horizon when the water under the largest of the three bridges
between the Fort and the College dimpled as the head of an Ape battlesuit poked above it for long enough to confirm that they were in position.

Secure in their perimeter, none of the guards or security noticed as the battle armour moved out of the water, moving stealthily through the
morning light and towards their targets. The Asps waited under water. They were too obvious for this stage of the attack, but their time would come.





It was ironic that only a remedial class saved John McDonald's life. Kommandant Henri Lassard of the Training Battalion had not been
pleased with the cadet's performance on the gauntlet the previous afternoon and assigned him a repeat session at the crack of dawn, this time with the
Kommandant running alongside him in the lone Crockett assigned to the College to give him some pointers and decide whether or not the improvements merited
being allowed to return to the Academy before or after the mess hall finished serving breakfast. The two of them had just reached the gantry that gave access
to the Battlemechs when every alarm in the building sounded and then cut off abruptly. John saw movement below on the floor of the hanger and his head turned
as he tried to identify it, leaving him wrong footed when his instructor was shot.

There was no telltale rattle of machinegun fire, no visible beam of light. One moment, Kommandant Lassard was pulling his cooling vest on and
the next he was tumbling over the gantry, half his head carved open. Opposite John on the gantry, one of the simian man-sized invaders was pointing her right
arm and the attached laser at where the Kommandant had been standing.

Later, John could not have explained for the life of him what he was thinking. In truth, there was no time to think. Grabbing hold of the
cockpit hatch with one hand, he slapped the control to retract the gantry.

The jolt as the gantry unlocked threw off the invader's aim for long enough for John to scramble onto the hatch and the second - rather
less than designed - jolt as the gantry realised it was supporting a ton of occupant at the end opposite from its mounting, a ton that it was never rated to
support while unlocked and promptly sagged noticeably, alllowed the cadet to dive inside the cockpit and undock the hatch, bringing it crashing down on his
heels.

Outside the Mech, the Ape leapt clear of the gantry before it collapsed beneath her weight. The fall probably wouldn't kill her, not
encased in a three-quarters of a ton of the finest protection that any warrior had ever enjoyed, but it would be an inconvenience at best and could damage her
laser. On the floor she took a moment to aim the laser into the open cockpit of the Chameleon in the next bay to the Crockett and fired twice, the beam leaving
the medium battlemech imoperable like the ten others in the hanger that the point of Apes had been attacking when the alarm sounded.

John dogged the hatch shut and started powering up the Crockett, grateful that since it was primarily used as a training Mech the usual
security arrangements for a battlemech were somewhat relaxed. Pulling his dogtags over his head he opened a small panel on the right hand side of the control
console, uncovering a dataport. Hanging from the dogtag chain was an electromagnetic key that he slipped into the socket, loading his own data into the
computer's brain. With that done, he hit the reactor switch and felt the familiar rumble of the fusion reactor through the seat of his pants.

"Security Protocols active," the recorded voice droned. "Failure to provide the correct pass-phrase will enact full
lockdown."

"By sea and by land," John quoted the ancient motto of the highland clan his family claimed descent from as he stripped off his
uniform pants and tunic. Without a cooling vest it was going to be murderously hot inside the Crockett's cockpit. Recognising the voice print and the
correct pass-phrase the idiot-savant computers that made up the Crockett's nervous system raced through the emergency activations that John triggered and
reported partial readiness as he strapped himself into the command couch. The laser in the right arm was still glitching, he noted and shut it down entirely.
He wouldn't dare fire the weapon anyway without a cooling vest - using both lasers would strain the heatsinks prodigously at the best of times.

With a determined expression on his face, John used the right arm to batter the damaged gantry out of his path and started tramping the
assault mech out of the hanger, stepping carefully over the broken body of his teacher. It was time to get some payback.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

The sound of the alarms was what the Asps had been waiting and they charged out of the water, lasers smashing into guard posts and the communcations buildings. Within moments, fires raged on both sides of the river as the lethally fast predators spread out across the compounds and destruction followed in their wake.

Point Commander Stuart had elected to become a ProtoMech pilot after a crash ended his career as an aerospace fighter pilot. Now he cackled maniaclly as he led five Asps through a vehicle park, systematically disabling the tracks on one tank after another. By the time that their crews arrived at the run, what had once been a battalion of armour was reduced to so many pillboxes and the Asps turned to sweep the shocked soldiers with their lasers, raking through them with brutal force.

Pockets of resistence emerged, as brave soldiers fought back with whatever they had. The Infantry Training Centre's armoury was well equipped with rocket launchers and two overly bold Apes were blasted apart by volleys of short range missiles fired by an entire platoon of infantry into the front lobbey as the suits entered. The port held out, the Star Adders were not foolish enough dare the armament of military dropships in their light gear, but by the time that the base commander could establish a replacement for his command post, it was clear that the Academy was essentially lost and he ordered the remaining cadets and elements of the Lyran Guards still holding out on the campus to withdraw across the river.

And then he called Hauptmann General Kaulkas and gave a more detailed report than the hasty one transmitted from a tank's radio rather than a proper long range array.

Kaulkas sounded tense on the radio. "Understood, Leftenant General. We've broken contact and pulled back to the dropships and they'll be launching almost immediately with our more damaged Mechs and tanks. It'll take us most of the day to get through the mountains so we can't reach the Fort before midnight at best. Can you hold until then?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. We haven't seen anything heavier than an Alfar so far but if they get past you then we could be in trouble - we've got essentially no perimeter except the river between us and the college. I have techs unlocking the security on Mechs whose pilots are dead for the mechwarriors who had their rides damaged, but that's going to take hours."

"Alright, change of plans then. Once you've got a force together, hit the Academy and destroy anything left of military value, then do the same in the Fort and get out. Send Dropships to pick us up at Drominton." Drominton was a good-sized town in the eastern foothills, on the largest road and rail route through the mountains. "We've done what we can here on Buena. It was good ground for fighting on, but I don't want any more of our people buying farms on it."

The twists and turns of the mountains had pluses and minuses, Kelly Danvers found as she fired her Marauder's large laser past Erika Ferem's Archer at a Mad Cat coming over one of the low hills in the pass. A moment later her PPCs cycled and she added one of them to the volley, sparing herself the heat that would be generated by firing both. Even the extra heatsinks provided on the Davion-variant did not make up for the heavy Mech's sometimes brutal heat profile.

The General's fire missed, but the Mad Cat was at optimal range for Erika's Archer and forty long ranged missiles arced across two hundred metres to rain down on the fast moving Mech. Eight simply missed entirely and nine more were swatted out of the sky by the machinegun-like turret below the cockpit, but the rest hammered armour away, particularly on the left arm which lost almost a ton of protection. The Mad Cat had a configuration closer to that of a classic Marauder: an autocannon over the shoulder, large and medium lasers in each boxy forearm. Only the large lasers were on target, slashing into Erika's armoured chest and below her right arm but not penetrating the thick armour on either location.

The Mad Cat dropped out of sight and Kelly started backing up, covering Erika as she ran for cover further back along the pass. She paused to fire both particle cannon as the Star Adder mech came back into view, and Erika paused and turned but presumably could not draw a bead. The manmade lightning bolt carved into the Mad Cat's chest but its return fire smashed into her left arm and that side of her own Mech's torso, lasers and armour piercing shells shaking away almost a ton and a half of armour. Unable to compensate in time, Kelly let the Mech fall, trying to minimise the damage taken.

Bringing the Marauder back to its feet she moved further back until she was almost under Erika's position, the Archer having scaled one of the low cliffs. The other mechwarrior was still trying to provide covering fire but a hillock blocked line of sight. Kelly could still see the target however and stabbed out again with a PPC and the large laser. The latter missed, but the PPC carved another scar into the chest of the Mad Cat, crossing the previous damage done. In return, the Mad Cat hit back with everything, pulverising the last armour on her left arm and chest with lasers. Another laser cut into the armour around the General's cockpit and the autocannon was just barely too high, ripping into the upper armour of the bird-like Mech's pointed chest.

Then the Mad Cat was out of her sight and Kelly gasped for air in the boiler-like cockpit, letting the coolant in her vest suck away heat. "I see him!" Erika shouted and fired off another salvo of missiles at something Kelly couldn't see. Lasers lashed back and the Archer rocked with the characteristic effects of a damaged gryo, crashing to the floor. The Mad Cat charded into view, heading for Kelly's fallen subordinate and the General rushed to meet him. Behind her, she saw the Archer struggling to rise. It fell, tried again and took two steps fowards before toppling. There was an explosion as it crashed to the floor for the third time in half a minute. Something must have pierced one of the missile bins and the result tore the seventy-ton machine apart as easily as if it was made of papier-mache rather than advanced alloys.

The ejection seat fired Erika clear but Kelly was too busy to track the course of it. She dashed almost past the Mad Cat and spun, firing large and medium lasers into its right side at point blank range, then kicking ineffecutally at it as the surprised Clan mechwarrior missed cleanly with every laser he fired. Despite the close quarters, she fired an alpha strike and saw more armour fall away.

Then the Mad Cat fired and a dazed Mechwarrior Erika Ferem watched from the ground as lasers tore into the Marauder's right arm and chest the autocannon chewed through what was left of the cockpit's armour and then through the woman inside.
 

Louis Stewart grimaced as the incoming Cauldron-born dropped behind a ridge just as it entered extreme range for his autocannon. Exchanging the superheavy Tomodzuru for an imported Federated model had let him catch several unwary Mechwarriors off-guard by firing at them from well out of what they thought that a Hunchback's range was. He continued to cover the approach as Henri Van Der Koot jumped his Whitworth forwards to engage with his long range missiles from the crest of the ridge.

Beside Louis, his cousin Maria-Katrina Stewart's S-model Whitworth was genuinely unable to reach out to hit at the Clanners, carrying only SRMs rather than the base model's LRMs. They could both see a laser biting into the leg of Henri's Mech and the characteristic firecracker explosions of missiles exploding against the light Mech's armour, without being able to tell what (if anything) the daring Leftenant's own missiles were accomplishing.

From the way that Henri moved back behind cover it wasn't enough and Louis growled in frustration as Maria-Katrina jumped her Mech forwards to assist him, leaving Louis unable to quickly follow as he had no jumpjets. They were supposed to be retreating, not playing gloryhound and admiring damsel.

The enemy Cauldron-born came into view again and Louis brought his crosshairs up to cover it then fired the cannon. Depleted uranium whistled around the heavy mech with no more effect that Henri's badly aimed missiles but Maria-Katrina was more effective, scoring one leg with a laser and then plastering it with a full six short range missiles from the spread that she fired. In return, the Cauldron-born fired two volleys of missiles at Louis and it's own autocannon savaged his Hunchback's left arm. The missiles hit the Mech's chest squarely and a laser raked at his left leg, causing him to topple sideways, throwing out his right arm to prevent the cockpit from impacting on the ground.

Disgustedly, Louis brought the Mech upright and moved back through the rocks. They were retreating, so he would retreat. He could offer covering fire from the next ridge, he justified to himself. Clearly this was not good ground for him to fight from. His display showed a swarm of missiles descend upon the two Whitworths, first blasting into Maria-Katrina's and then the misses continuing into Henri's Mech. He could not tell what damage, if any, they did in return but their pained comments made it clear at they had both had close calls, losing armour over their cockpits.

For a moment, rock blocked his view of the entire battle and then he circled a crag and moved up behind the cover of the next ridge to look down on them. Henri's Mech had fallen and lay still on the ground in a hollow pocket. Maria-Katrina had stepped forwards, positioning her Whitworth defiantly to block fire from their much heavier opponent upon the fallen Leftenant. She fired everything and Louis could see the heated air rippling around the Whitworth. "Shit," he cursed and fired his own autocannon, missing widely.

The Cauldron-born seemed to stagger under the missile from Maria-Katrina's volley, but fired back. The upright Whitworth stumbled but held it's ground. To his horror, Louis could see missiles that overshot Maria were actually turning slightly to track in upon Henri and armour flew away from the prone Whitworth.

None of them moved and Maria-Katrina fired a second full volley. Her cockpit must be a pressure cooker, Louis thought, his autocannon finally striking true on the already ruptured left torso of the Cauldron-born but seemed to strike nothing vital. More missiles savaged both of the Whitworths and then the autocannon spoke, the tracers leading directly into the head of Maria-Katrina's Mech, blotting her out effortlessly.

Louis screamed incoherently and stepped forward, unable to close enough to bring his lasers into play and his cannon firing wildly and ineffecutally. The Cauldron-born's shots smashed the Hunchback from its feet and his head snapped back against the headrest, protected from concussion only by the sturdy neurohelmet he wore. More missiles rained down on him as he stood, trading furious gunfire that ripped away the last protection on his opponent's right leg in exchange for the Clanner's own deadly firepower. His heat rose as lasers opened up his chest and brutalised the reactor shielding and gyro, bringing the Hunchback down once again. This time the landing knocked him senseless and he felt nothing as the damaged reactor failed and superheated air exploded out from it, consuming the Mech in an instant.

 

Avalon City, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

30 August 3050

Candace Liao tensed as the screen in the briefing room lit up, although her composure was such that in the darkened room only Justin, who had placed his hand over hers in reassurance, was aware of his wife's reaction.

The screen showed the same view that had been displayed by the cockpit of Yen-lo-Wang a month before, compressed in the manner readily understandable by the mechwarriors among the audience. Candace, although her military days were long done with, understood them instinctively. Justin, for whom the Centurion had first been customised on Solaris more than two decades ago, was even more familiar with them and she felt his approval at the smooth gait of the Mech and the way that their son handled the fifty ton warmachine as if it were an extension of his own body.

Around Yen-lo-Wang were the buildings of the Buena War College - classrooms, hangers and workshops where future leaders of the Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth were schooled in their duties. However, rather than bustling with the daily activies of the campus, the only movements that could be seen were those of the predators who had arrived to make Buena their own.

There were five of them - fleet and quick moving, but not one of them more than waist high to the Centurion. The half-scale battlemechs that had been dubbed with a great many epithets before the soldiers who faced them had settled upon 'Alfar', the ancient german mythical elves - a fair identification of the nimble creatures and a selection that had led naturally to their smaller still brethern who served the 'Star Adders' as infantry as 'Duergar'. The group worked as a team, harrying a Hunchback without straying into range of its mighty autocannon.

The arrival of Yen-lo-Wang changed the tactical situation markedly. Although the modified Centurion had no greater range to work with than the Hunchback, the two worked as a team and swiftly pincered one of the Alfar between them with no choice but to dare the range of one's guns if it was to escape. Selecting the Hunchback it darted for the blocky-shouldered Mech. Deliberately, the mechwarrior fired both lasers first, as the Alfar closed, saving the autocannon for when the range was at its very shortest. The shot was not to be however as two more of the deadly machines swept in suddenly, their own lasers digging into the rear of the Hunchback.

They had known precisely where to strike and in an instant the medium mech was torn apart as the shells inside its chest were triggered, propellant and explosives alike tearing through the interior. The ejection seat exploded out of the cockpit, automatic systems saving the pilot. It was all for nothing however as a lance of light from the chest of the charging Alfar smashed the mechwarrior brutally out of the air.

Candace felt Justin's fingers, those of his flesh and bone hand not the prothesis that replaced a long ago war wound, tighten at their son's scream of horror. The Hunchback's pilot was called Harry Wilson, they knew from Kai's letters. A career soldier with twelve years in the Lyran Guards and a wife and child back in the Isle of Skye, he had been senior mechwarrior in the lance and taken the traditional fatherly role of a seasoned NCO towards the young Leftenant fresh from the New Avalon Military Academy.

Yen-lo-Wang bounded forwards after the killer, heat gauges rising as Kai pushed the Mech past its limitations and drew a bead with the autocannon at the range of three hundred metres. He triggered the weapon three six metre strides later and Candace heard someone whistle as the deleted uranium rounds ate into the rear of the Alfar. It was a magnificent shot, delivered at the run against a fast-moving target, and it dropped the tiny battlemech to its hands and knees in front of the charging giant.

With a snarl, Kai drove the three almost ornamental talons built into Yen-lo-Wang's left hand through the rents torn in the Alfar's armour and clenched his fist, wrenching entire panels away. His front laser fired, not at the fallen Alfar but at one of its compatriots as they tried to close. The shot hit but the victim seemed unfazed, returning fire with a shot that stripped almost half a ton of armour from the centre of the Centurion's chest.

Then a second autocannon snarled and a shape that towered over even Yen-lo-Wang crashed onto the field, landing roughly as its jumpjets carried it over a block of classrooms. It took Candace a moment to recognise the battered, smoking Mech as a Crockett, traces of the green and blue pattern painted around it's waist in imitation of Buena's 'school rag' were still visible. The autocannon rounds bowled over the audacious Alfar, prompting a retreat, but Candace's eyes - like everyone else's in the room - were locked onto the broken torso of the Alfar that Kai had almost literally disembowelled.

The lower torso had cracked open, disgorging a flood of yellowish fluid and a fetal lump of flesh, in sickening mimicry of a human miscarriage. The flesh was alive, it moved... but as innocent of self-control as a newborn baby, eyes staring dully up at the Mech standing over it in utter incomprehension. It was... inhuman, Candace judged guilitily. Stunted and feeble of frame, with a head larger in proportion and perhaps absolute terms also than that of an adult. She saw no hair on its head or elsewhere, but black lines that at first resembled tattoos cut across its skin in patterns that resembled circuitry. Blindly it coughed up the slime, scrabbling senselessly at the sodden ground, and then finally it lay still.

The picture cut out at that point and the lights in the briefing room slowly lit up, to spare their eyes. "General Kaulkas sent us this imagery via ComStar as soon as he reached Valloire," Ardan Sortek advised them. "Leftenant Allard-Liao was prudent enough to carry the... contents of the Alfar with him as he and Cadet MacDonald in the Crockett retreated to the dropship and insisted it be deep frozen for transport, so we also have a sample, although for obvious reasons it will be some time before the cadaver reaches the laboratories on Tharkad."

"While the 10th Lyran Guards were pushed off Buena, they were able to retreat in an organised fashion, which makes them essentially unique among the forces that have faced these Star Adders so far. As this footage shows, they are clearly similar to the Jade Falcon and Wolf groups invading the Tamar March. However, for every similarity there is also a difference."

"Are they human?" a voice asked nervously from near the back of the room.

Justin stood. "Reports from conquered worlds in the Tamar March make it clear that the Wolf and Jade Falcons are human or so close to it that there is no difference. The NAIS College of Biology and Medicine assure me that there is no possibility that any sort of 'parallel evolution' so they are either human or deliberately presenting a human face. The latter seems extremely improbable at this stage but has not been definitvely ruled out. The Star Adders, as Marshal Sortek so clear put it, are different. No reports, even from worlds taken months ago can confirm even one sighting of their soldiers. A few of their follow up echelons - administators and ship crews do appear to be human but there appears to be a remarkable degree of segregation between their soldiers and their civilians, so much so that one theory that has been put forward that the Star Adder army might be a distinct racial group, even if they are not a distinct species."

Hanse shook his head. "It doesn’t matter if they are human or not," he said. "We know that they can be killed and if they can be killed then they can also be defeated."

"This is not the last information that the 10th Guards have given us, of course," Ardan continued, not batting an eyebrow at the interruption. "There is also a wealth of battle ROMs that gives us our first look at how the Star Adders wage war. Like the other Clans they have and use superior mobility and range to their advantage, however they do not have the same reluctance that the Sudeten Conference noticed to combine their fire on single targets. They are still more prone to the duellist mentality shown by the Jade Falcons than our own troops, but no more so than some of the more old fashioned regiments among the DCMS."

"The conventional tanks and helicopters sighted are clearly designed for highly mobile battles. And unfortunately they are also testament to the Star Adder's fondness for incendiary warheads. One of their helicopters designs appears to be essentially a suicide ride loaded with enough short range missile launchers to saturate a lance and when they're using Infernos that means that we take four to one losses at best. Their tanks also carry quite a number of missiles, but their primary weapon is the same that their other helicopters carry: an extended range laser that is effective at seven hundred and fifty meters. These weapons are among the most efficient laser systems that we have ever seen and they are experts at using hit and run raids to soften our troops up at long range before closing in for the kill."

"One of the most valuable pieces of information that was provided was this," the Prince's Champion stated, bringing up a somewhat grainy shot of a man-sized armoured figure seen firing a laser mounted on one oversized arm in the direction of the camera. "This is an example of what we are now sure is a form of battle armour. The suit resembles in some respects, armoured suits used by some elements of the Star League Defense Forces that incorporated powered exosteletons to carry some of the load. The Grey Death Legion have developed copies of a stealth suit on this principle and we are now confident that these ‘Kobold’ are such suits, which strongly suggests that both the ‘Duergar’ seen previously and the ‘Toad’ used by the other Clans are also suits of battle armour. The ‘Kobold’ does not appear to be as well protected as the other suits, which strongly implies that it is intended for garrison work as it would still be very effective against infantry."

"NAIS are working on their own equivalents of the Toad, having had longer to examine the model and are confident that they can come up with something operational within a year. It won't be quite the equal of what the Clans use, but it will narrow the gap significantly. They have also been working on reproducing the Clan's weapons, many of which have precedents in the equipment used by the Star League. Cluster ammuniton for heavy autocannon and a high speed medium autocannon are in pre-production and the first units should be ready for deployment by early next year. In addition to new construction, upgrade packages for existing Mechs are being prepared and priority will go to units expected to fight the Clans. It will probably be early 3052 before we can deploy more than a few regiments of this hardware unfortunately, but the rate of production will rise rapidly after that."

"Do we know how they're cramming all this technology into their Mechs?" asked Hanse.

Ardan nodded. "NAIS are confident that the Clans are making widespread use of lightweight reactor shielding that was only available on a limited basis during the Star League era," he said. "It leaves the engine a little more vulnerable, but it cuts the mass essentially in half. In addition to this they seem to have entirely abandoned our current heatsink technology for 'freezers' that are twice as effective for the same mass. Granted, our freezers are three times as bulky, but they seem to have got that under control to a degree and it's making a huge difference."

"Doctor Pardoe has been working reverse engineering the Mad Cat and he's confident that the reactor would weigh only twenty tons or so - about the same as that in a Marauder. Add in heatsinks twice as effective and the fact that the arm weapons are lasers, not particle cannon and you can see how it fires all four lasers at once without overheating: it would actually dissipate heat faster than an Awesome can. The only snag so far is their missile systems, but he's working on that. In fact, he's confident that we can manufacture something comparable, if not quite the equal of it, within the next four years."
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

Orbit, Engadin

Wolf Occupation Zone

3 September 3050

"Star Colonel Ramon Sender seems confident that he can handle Engadin's local defenses," Ulric noted to the Precentor Martial
as they watched the bidding. "You don't seem so confident however."

"To quote a certain Aleksandr Kerensky," the one-eyed ComStar general told him, "'Armor units have shattered many a Mech
commander's dreams of glory'."

"A Primer of Tactics and Strategy," Ulric said, placing the quote without difficulty. "Copies survive in the Inner
Sphere?"

Focht nodded. "It's required reading at every Academy worth mentioning," he agreed. "However, I suspect that the Star
Colonel is giving too little weight to that passage. The Engadine Defense Forces are fighting for their homes and while he is taking sufficient troops to
defeat them, he is unlikely to do so swiftly."

Ulric shrugged his shoulders. "Well, that will be a learning experience for him then." He stroked his beard. "How is your
survey of our military capabilities proceeding? It is interesting to hear the perspective of an outsider at times."

"I have certainly been impressed," Focht admitted. "The differences from the Inner Sphere's military practises, and the
differences between the various clans practises, are fascinating. I rather gather," he added wryly, "That there are some clans that you don't
feel particularly threatened by."

The Khan's lips twitched. "It has long been the custom of my Clan to blood our less experienced warriors against the Jade
Falcons," he said judiciously. "However, when we desire to pit warriors against a true challenge, then we confront the Smoke Jaguars and the Ghost
Bears."

"Mm," nodded Focht judiciously. "And how do you feel about Clan Star Adder?"

"They are not a clan to take lightly," Ulric said after a moment's thought. "Not among the strongest clans but they take a
longer view than most. Why the interest in them, Precentor Martial? So far as I recall you have never even met Khan Truscott."

"They are, if you will excuse my saying so, the most successful of the invading clans in some ways," Focht told him. "Yet
unlike the other invaders, even the Smoke Jaguars -"

"The Star Adders are not an invading Clan," Ulric said sharply, his eyes narrowing. "So far as I know they should not have
forces within a thousand light years of the Inner Sphere. I take it that I am mistaken?

Focht met the Khan's gaze evenly. "A group identifying themselves as the Star Adders have invaded the Commonwealth only a few score
light years from the Jade Falcons. Contrary to the agreement that I reached with your ilKhan, their forces have been seizing ComStar stations wherever they
find them. More than half of the ComGuards 143rd Division was on Poulsbo when contact was lost and the 34th Division's last report was that they were
surrounded by a force roughly equal to their own but with far more advanced weapons and equipment which matches closely that which the Invading Clans
use."

"Precentor Martial, I must confess that this is the first that I have heard of such an invasion. How many worlds have they struck
at?"

"Almost seventy, along almost all of the Commonwealth's Periphery borders," the one-eyed man answered, taking a guilty pleasure
in the wild look in the warlord's eyes as he wrestled with the notion that another Clan had conquered twice as many worlds as the Wolf Clan had. "The
latest news was that they had driven the 10th Lyran Guards off Buena. This is considered to be a relatively favorable outcome for the Federated Commonwealth as
very few of the troops that have encountered the Star Adders are ever heard of again."

Ulric brought himself under control. "I believe that I should bring this to the ilKhan's attention immediately," he said.
"Please return to your quarters, it would be best if you were not present for this discussion."

As Focht stepped through the hatch leading to the gangway he heard Ulric demand an immediate communications channel to the ilKhan.

"You have the look of a cat who just got the cream," Phelan Kell commented as he stopped leaning against the wall outside the
bridge where he had been waiting to escort Focht back to his quarters.

It was an odd arrangement, for someone who by Inner Sphere terms was a prisoner of war to be escorting an ambassador, but the Clans seemed to
see Phelan's current status as a part, however lowly, of Clan Wolf as superceding all his prior allegiances. There were times when Focht wondered if they
were right. Phelan had no idea how well he fit in amongst the Clans, the older man suspected. "Say rather that I have set the cat amongst the
pigeons," he said. "I had not mentioned this previously, but a fifth Clan invaded the Inner Sphere at the same time as the four that you are aware
of. Like the Falcons, they are attacking only the Federated Commonwealth."

"Great," Phelan grumbled. "All we need is another dozen or so and they'll all be here. So why didn't you mention them
before?"

"Unlike the other clans they have seized ComStar stations and in one case are presumed to have destroyed most of a ComGuards Division.
At first we were not sure that they were part of the Clans, but recently information obtained by the 10th Lyran Guards and other sources confirms that they
have identified themselves to their conquered populations as Star Adders. Since I met the Khan of Clan Star Adder while observing the invasion of Rasalhague,
the rest is hardly a deduction worthy of Moriaty."

"Holmes."

"Eh?"

"Holmes is the detective," Phelan corrected him. "Moriaty was his nemesis. Cousin Melissa sent me a book of Sherlock Holmes
stories when I was younger," he expanded, when Focht looked curiously at him. Centuries old literary detectives were not a subject he would have thought
that the young mercenary would have an interest in. "Where are they hitting the Commonwealth?"

"It would be more accurate to ask where they aren't hitting them," Focht sighed. "Unlike the Wolf Clan, they are invading
on a broad front with what may be rather larger forces. Much of the Periphery March has already fallen, as well as several worlds on the border with the Free
Worlds League. Unless something unexpected happens, I can't see anything likely to stop them from punching into the Donegal March," he said
regretfully. "Hanse Davion is sending reinforcements, from the Federated Suns, but it will take time for them to arrive."

"The Kell Hounds?" Phelan asked, half hopefully and half in dread.

"I have no reports on their location, so they are almost certainly among those being redeployed," the Precentor Martial confirmed.
"I expect that the Jade Falcons will find themselves paying the price for the way that Clan Wolf mauled them last year."





Orbit, Engadin

Wolf Occupation Zone

5 September 3050

"They did what?" Robin Steele said incredulously as Leo Showers advised the small and entirely unofficial conference of selected
Khans of what Anastasius Focht had told him in a very detailed and very private meeting that the ilKhan had enjoyed even less than watching Ulric
Kerensky's Wardens carve their way through the Inner Sphere faster than his own Smoke Jaguars.

There were some very specific gaps in that assembly. No Star Adders, for obvious reasons. No Snow Ravens and only Garth Radick representing
the Wolves. Several more gaps where Khans that Leo suspected might sympathise with the Star Adders had not been advised of this discussion.

"Clan Star Adder has invaded the Inner Sphere," Leo repeated in a flat voice that betrayed exactly how much it took for him not to
scream the words. "If the reports of our 'allies' are to be trusted then they are invading on a front approximately as large as all four of the
Invading Clans and are sweeping everything before them." He held up a datapad for the cameras in the chamber to relay to the Khans not present in person.
"There would appear to be six somewhat understrength Galaxies carrying out the invasion, as well as a considerable number of garrison
units."

"Six!" spat Garth Radick in shock. "Six galaxies are making as much progress as the Touman's of four
Clans?"

Leo shook his head. "They are cutting into rear areas of the Federated Commonwealth," he growled derisively. "They obliterated
a few units that were pirate hunting and have faced nothing but militia and training forces since then. And since the Spheroids must face our invasion as well,
they cannot effectively reinforce the worlds in the path of the Star Adders."

There was a thoughtful look on Elias Crichell's face. "This places an interesting light on their recent trial against my clan,"
he pointed out. "Their supply lines must be much longer than ours. My own speculations centred upon the fact that they had a fleet of warships, but
perhaps they are interested in having more jumpships."

"The Nova Cats have supply lines in place to support their troops if we need them as reserves," Timur Malthus added throughtfully.
Neither Nova Cat Khan was present. "They offered us the use of them in return for worlds in the occupation zone. The Star Adders might be making use of
them as a supply line."

Leo slammed his fist down on the table in front of him. "So we have a conspiracy by perhaps three clans to violate the dictates of the
Grand Council and the ilKhan," he snapped. "This is infamous!"

"It explains where Khan N'Buta has been," Robin Steele said throughtfully. "Although he was ostensibly left in the
homeworlds to govern their holdings, he must be in the Inner Sphere leading this invasion while Virgilia Truscott was observing our own
progress."

"Where is she now?" Showers asked. "She left with those warships, which means that she has considerable firepower at her
disposal. The most likely explanation is that she is now also in their occupation zone."

"Yes," the Coyote Khan noted. "Their occupation zone. Along with all of their best warriors. Their forces in the Homeworlds
must be stretched thin." He noted the predatory smiles on other faces. "That can be considered at another time however. For now, ilKhan, we must ask
whether the Star Adders can be stopped and whether we should stop them. It is fair to say that this must be diverting resources within the Inner Sphere away
from combating your own invasion plan."

Timur Malthus frowned. "The only forces that could actively prevent them from continuing to invade would be those already committed to
our invasion corridors. I do not believe that it would be wise to divert those forces. With respect to your very cogent point, Khan Steele, while their other
holdings may be vulnerable, striking at them would simply force them to rebase themselves in the Inner Sphere where, at least for the moment, they all but
invulnerable to any military action."

The ilKhan drummed his fingers on the desk. "Which Truscott will know perfectly well. Well, if we can nnot directly intervene then that
leaves reasoning with her. She is only invulnerable in the short term and she is in violation of a resolution of the Grand Council. It is probable that her
support will vanish if the possibility of a Trial of Annihilation is floated there. I have been considering calling a meeting of the Council to discuss the
actions of Khan Ulric anyway. I have grave concerns about some of his actions, particularly his use of a bondsman as a close advisor. We will simply ensure
that the Star Adders are present and then require them to explain themselves."





Plain of Curtains, Twycross

Jade Falcon Occupation Zone

10 September 3050

Victor Steiner-Davion swore and threw his Mech's arms back as a Thor stepped out from behind the Loki he had just shattered and fired its
particle cannon directly at his face. It was a beautiful shot and probably would have taken off the entire head of the eighty ton Victor, reducing the heir to
the conjoined thrones of the Federated Commonwealth to ashes, if his right forearm hadn't been in the way. As it was, it destroyed the barrel of the
autocannon in that arm, depriving Victor of the most powerful weapon in his battlemech's arsenal.

Around Victor the rest of the 20th Arcturan Guards were fighting fiercely against the Jade Falcons, but these were frontline Clan mechs and
from the markings, the same elite unit that had nearly captured Victor on Trellwan four months ago. Grimly he checked his tactical display as he waited for his
lasers to cycle to ready. The Guards had been attached to the Twycross Task Force directly after been pulled of Aubisson where they had been skirmishing
against the DCMS so they had started the battle slightly understrength despite the addition of Victor, Galen Cox and a handful of other 12th Donegal Guards
mechwarriors who had been evacuated from Trellwan for wounds that had since healed. Now they were below half strength, First Battalion and Hauptmann-General
Kincaid had been torn apart almost before anyone realised that the Dropships weren't going to manage to seal off the Great Gash.

In return Victor's charge by Second and Third Battalions had wrecked fully a third of the Clanner Mechs and the artillery fire he'd
been calling in - bless Dan Allard for giving him absolute priority on fire support - was suppressing the Toad armored suits that the Jade Falcons used as
infantry. It was fortunate that they didn't have the Duergars used elsewhere in the invasion, Victor thought. They were allegedly tougher and might have
been able to fight on even under artillery fire.

Firing his lasers into the chest of the Thor made very little impact on the smaller Mech - the laser simply didn't have the power to burn
through even the battered armour left on the battlemech and his missiles missed completely, flying past the Thor to crash into the already wrecked Loki.
"Colonel Allard, if you have any good news, I'd like to hear it," Victor said wearily into the command channel as he backpedalled.
"We're holding them, but it's taking everything we've got."

"I'll have reinforcements for you shortly, your Highness," Dan replied in a distracted voice. "We're rolling them back
but they're fighting like demons and the 9th FedCom are taking a pounding, even with your tanks backing them."

There was a roar of rockets from Victor's left and the Thor was suddenly bathed in explosions as Galen Cox unleashed every missile his
Crusader could fire into it at optimum range. Much to the disappointment of both AFFC warriors the Thor stepped out of the explosions, shards of armour
tumbling from its frame, now exposing parts of the myomer muscles and metal bones beneath and unloaded the weapon in both arms directly into the chest of
Galen's Crusader. The PPC smashed through what was left of his frontal armour and then the shotgun-like submunitions blasted across the mech, several
penetrating the weak point created by the energy weapon.

"Oh dammit," Galen said, sounding unaccountably surprised as his Mech simply toppled backwards, still radiating the massive heat
from his alpha-strike but now with flames rising from the hole in its breast.

"Galen!"

"I'm okay. The reactor shielding's gone though, same for the gyro. I'm shutting it down and bailing out," Victor's
friend and aide reported calmly.

The Thor's pilot seemed disinclined to let Galen have the chance to do so, the green painted battlemech closing in and firing the
autocannon again. One of the submunitions cracked armour over the cockpit and Galen fell silent, either his radio or his life cut off. Fuming, Victor charged
forward, putting his Mech between the bloody-minded Clanner and the fallen Mech. He fired his lasers and missiles again, concentrating them upon the damaged
left arm. To his satisfaction, the volley seemed to hit something structural, for the arm went slack, the muzzle of the autocannon built into it aimed only at
the floor.

He had succeeded in drawing the Clanner's attention, the Prince noted wryly as the Thor's other arm came up and unleashed a bolt of
PPC fire into his chest, followed by a volley of its own missiles from the missile pack in its shoulder. Now all he had to do was survive that attention. It
was a touch unfair, he felt. Taking out his autocannon had left him reduced to secondary weapons only, but the Thor was still hitting out about as hard as he
could have if his Victor was unscathed.

Well maybe not in one way, Victor thought. One fragment of information - or rather one lack of information - that had energed while analysing
the Clan attacks on Sudeten during the conference that led to his attack on Twycross was that there were no reports of the Clans making physical attacks with
their Mechs. Not even one report of a punch at close quarters or kicking a fallen Mech while it was down. If they didn't use such tactics then they might
not be prepared to cope with them. And the Victor that he piloted was ten tons heavier than the Thor.

Jump jets roared and eighty tons (less battle damage) of battlemech soared into the sky with all the finesse of a mortar shell. Confirming
his guess, the pilot of the Thor halted for a stable firing platform to shoot up at the Victor rather than doing what an Inner Sphere pilot would have done -
firing their own jumpjets to get away.

Victor's cockpit display showed him the Clan Mechwarrior staring up through her cockpit canopy in bitter realisation a moment before the
fire of a jumpjet preceded the Victor's left foot through the canopy and reduced her to ashes and shattered bones.

The death from above attack knocked the pilotless Thor to the floor and Victor found his own Mech sprawling forwards as well, crashing chest
first into the ground and hurling him savagely against his command couch's restraints. Shaking off the impact, he rolled the assault Mech and tried to
bring it to its feet. It took him two attempts due to the damage taken. One of the Victor's feet was little more than a stump.

Standing only a couple of hundred metres away from him, a Clan battlemech was facing him with its weapons almost but not quite pointed at the
Prince's battered Mech. For a moment he thought that it was the same Thor that he had just crushed but then reason set in as he confirmed that the offset
cockpit was intact and that the wreckage of that Mech was in fact behind him.

"Inner Sphere mongrel," the voice of the other mechwarrior boomed out. "It will be a pleasure to rid the uinverse of
you."

Victor's eyes narrowed and he almost flicked the switch of his own loudspeakers. Instead he looked around and realised that only a
handful of his battalion were still moving. "Colonel Allard, the enemy are breaking through. I suggest that you watch your back."

"Understood, your highness. I've pried loose two tank companies to cover your retreat."

"Victor?"

"Kommandant Davion!" the Commander of the 1st Kell Hounds bellowed uselessly at his silent subordinate.





Avalon City, New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

11 September 3050

"We're beginning to get enough information to identify the Star Adder units," Justin told the war council. "They have
better operational security than the other Clans and the relatively small number of troops to have escaped them limit their responses, but it has been possible
to narrow down a few types of Mech. In general they seem to be operating several army groups, each with a distinct area of operation."

He tapped a control and arrows began to appear over the holographic map of the Lyran half of the Federated Commonwealth. "Two of these
groups entered the Commonwealth at Main Street and Kowloon respectively and have since them been moving Edgewards, more or less in parallel to the Jade Falcon
advance. For whatever reason, they are leaving a gap of at least seventy light years between themselves and the Falcons, which has left us with a
salient."

"Five more army groups are moving at right angles to the other clans, more or less parallel to the border with the Free Worlds League.
The one on the actual border is moving relatively slowly to concentrate its strength against our garrisons in the area, those further coreward have spread out
as they hit less protected worlds. "Our initial estimation was that each group comprised four or five of their combined arms regiments. However, now that
we have started to identify their individual regiments, there are at least six."

"Typically at least one Cluster is held back from each invasion wave to act as a strategic reserve or reorganise after losses. This is
particularly the case with units that have hit more than one world during an invasion wave. By this analysis, the 10th Lyran Guards defense of Buena will very
likely mean that the unit they faced will not participate in the next wave of the invasion. Unfortunately, there are at least forty other -"

Justin cut off as one of his aides burst into the room. "Excuse me," he said and turned to the younger man. "What is it?"
No one would interrupt a meeting of this level unless the news was of the utmost urgency or importance and if the building was on fire surely they would have
heard an alarm by now.

The aide handed him a slim leather document case. "A secure -" Which meant it had arrived via the Black Boxes rather than through
ComStar "- message from Marshal Hasek-Davion," he said. "It was marked highest priority, relay contents to Prince Davion and Archon
Steiner-Davion without delay." And that meant that Justin was fully expected to take it to the joint heads of state immediately not matter what he or they
were doing at the time. Given the lengthy travel times and inherent delays in any interstellar communications, there were very very few matters that required
that level of urgency. Justin hadn't seen anything of that level since he took over the Ministry from his father and predecessor to the post more than a
decade ago.

Calmly he opened the document case, extracted the papers inside and broke the seal without hesitating to check that no one had read the
contents other than the communications officer who received it. His flesh and blood hand tightened on the paper as he read it and before he had finished the
page he looked up. "Please clear the room," he ordered the rest of the War Council.

Hanse and Melissa, as the other men and women looked at each other, nodded to confirm the orders and waited until the doors had closed behind
the last officer before they looked questioningly at their closest advisor. Their friend.

"Morgan received the first report from Twycross this morning," Justin stated simply, not sparing a moment for Melissa's
widening eyes or the laser-like focus of Hanse upon his face. Nor did he try to cushion the news. "Victor is missing in action."

The Archon gave voice to a muffled sob and her fingers tightened around those of her husband, whose breath caught in his throat. He tried to
voice questions, but could not seem to form them.

"He's appended Dan's report," Justin added, touching the later pages that contained his half-brother's summary of the
action on Twycross. "But the summary is that one of the Jade Falcon's frontline regiments was on the planet unexpectedly. Victor and the 20th Arcturan
Guards held them off while the other three regiments handled the garrison and then turned to force the Falcons back into the mountains, but the Guards were
virtually wiped out. Dan found his Mech and he seems to have ejected, but after that, no one knows. He swept the area but with the Falcons holding out and
reinforcements on their way he had no choice but to withdraw. The report was sent before they departed."

He held it out and Melissa snatched it, reading it for herself through the tears that were running down her face. Her husband simply stared
expressionlessly ahead, face bloodless and eyes lidded.

"Your highness?" Justin asked the older man warily. Then, more urgently, "Hanse!"

Hanse Davion slumped back into his chair, the pain in his chest almost overwhelming the less literal pain in his heart. The last thing he
heard before the blackness took him was Melissa screaming for a doctor.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

Miquelon

Star Adder Occupation Zone

3 October 3050

Virgilia Truscott's newst toy stormed forwards and she fired a volley of inferno missiles and autocannon fire into the tanks waiting for
her on the other side of the river before slamming a kick into a Striker light tank unwary enough to be in her path. The kick from her Atlas not only stove in
the flank of the thirty-five ton missile tank, it actually flipped it up onto one side. There was an explosion up on the slopes where presumably an inferno had
worked its magic on one of the milita tanks and she was annoyed to see another tank roar up to confront her, using the Striker as partial cover.

The smoke from the fires effectively blocked most of her targets on the other side of the river for the moment, so she restricted herself to
the more accurate autocannon and lasers, sparing her LRMs for the impudent challenger in front of her - far too close for her to use infernos on, which was
probably a smart move by somebody. The tank and another of its brethern exploded under the fire. Both were reported as Scorpions by her battle computer, which
apparently translated as death traps and she could see why. The most the one in front of her had accomplished was to slightly damage her arm with a
machinegun.

Stepping forward to stand on the wrecked tanks, she was surprised to see that they had apparently managed to find her range and a volley of
missiles hammered into her, followed by two particle cannon, both from some kind of armour cars. Moving had given her a better field of vision and she shared
more inferno missiles with the milita company, adding more conventional missiles, lasers and cannonfire to the fusillade, increasing the temperature markedly
inside her cockpit. Several of her targets ceased moving and she could see damage to wheels and tracks even if they were not actually destroyed.

The Khan stalked forwards to the water's edge. This was not quite the challenge that she had hoped for, but it was battle nonetheless and
the thrill that she desired was still there. No less than three tanks were destroyed by her next volley, including two of those irritants with PPCs, but she
was irritated to find her mighty battlemech shaken by missiles striking at the rear. Two Striker tanks had been lying in wait and had ambushed her. A lighter
mech might have been threatened, but her own armour was far too thick to be easily breached.

Barely noting the explosions as napalm found it's way into two more of the enemy, Virgilia half turned and exposed them to her full
wrath, blotting them out of existence with cannon fire, lasers and more napalm before marching along the river, looking for a suitable place to ford the river
and trading sporadic shots with the remaining militia. A Scorpion and a Striker were destroyed but she was annoyed when shots into her Atlas' right arm
disabled the autocannon in that arm. She smashed another armoured car with lasers and set two afire with infernos, wading into the water, the last as she
stepped out of it and suddenly nothing was left to move on the battlefield.

"This is Khan Truscott," she signalled the rest of the Command Keshik. "I have cleared the resistance in this
sector."

"Understood, my Khan," the officer co-ordinating their efforts confirmed. "Please return to the command post. A secured
transmission from the ilKhan has arrived."

"I'll just bet it has," muttered Virgilia after cutting off her transmission. "The question is, does he want to talk or
does he want to fight?"

After a moment she stopped speculating. There was simply no point to doing so since she would have plenty of time on the voyage to the Wolf
Occupation Zone to fret. For now she needed to find the rest of her Command Star and persuade them that yes, she had worked off all her frustration at spending
several months cooped up with the other invasion forces and now that she had gotten used to her Atlas it would be perfectly safe for them to close up the
interval between herself and the rest of the Star to less than a kilometer.

Anyone would think, the way that they were carrying on, that she was some sort of unstable killing machine who someone had thoughtlessly
provided with one of the deadliest weapons platforms ever built (at least in the class of those that didn't require a crew in the low hundreds to operate
as she was willing to conceded that a warship was probably slightly more destructive than her Atlas). She wasn't unstable, she was just a little giddy,
that was all. There hadn't been any battlemechs on the small dropship she'd been on so she'd needed to blast the rust off her skills. Any longer
and she might have been worried about retaining her warrior status next time she was tested. Maybe.

A little over three kilometers away the rest of the Command Keshik saw the smoke from the militia tanks and charged after it as fast as they
could. It was distinctly unfair of the Khan, in their opinion, to be so hard to keep track of. The slowest of their mechs could move over twenty percent faster
than hers so she couldn't be that far ahead of them? Fortunately, her trail was quite easy to follow and they were confident that there wasn't a great
deal out in this sector that posed any threat to her. Not any more, anyway.





Nadir Jump Point, Radstadt

Wolf Occupation Zone

1 November 3050

The electromagnetic pulse of an arriving jumpship drew the attention of every electronic eye within light minutes of the jump point. Within
seconds the corvette that appeared was illuminated by so many targeting radar and lidar systems that its armoured outer hull should by rights have been glowing
crimson. Alas for the merely mortal eyes viewing, all of this took place on wavelengths that evolution did not allow them to perceive directly.

"Oy," Khan Virgilia Truscott said from the bridge of the Centaur, a Vincent-class corvette that had served the Star Adders for
almost a quarter of a millenia and had been been upgraded to the current Mark 42 standard only three years before the invasion. "Was it something I
said?"

Despite massing slightly more than a Monolith-class jumpship, the Centaur was among the smallest and most inconsequential warships in
existence. The formidable firepower of Clan Wolf's flagship, the heavy cruiser Dire Wolf, was entirely sufficient to blot it from existence more or less at
will. Ulric Kerensky, if the news that the Snow Raven Khans had relayed had been accurate (and other sources had confirmed it), had demanded of the ilKhan that
no vessel more powerful than his flagship should bring the Khans to this gathering. It was a dominance matter, and the Wolves were very good at those. Even so,
there were enough smaller vessels present to have seriously challenged the Dire Wolf and for a tense moment every single one of them appeared inclined to
combined their fire upon the little corvette.

Then their IFF beacon, one well known to any Clan naval warrior was matched against the warbooks and the tension faded. Slightly.

"Someone seems to have taken a bite out of the Dire Wolf," Star Colonel (Naval) Esther Lahiri commented, magnifying the image of
the warship on one of her display screens. The blackened hole near the prow was recognisable even to a lifelong groundpounder like Virgilia as the
cruiser's bridge.

"I get the impression that we have walked onto the stage mid-way through one of the civilian caste's plays with no knowledge of the
script or the role that we are to play," the Khan said thoughtfully. "So I suppose that we shall simply have to improvise and make sure that anyone
else on the stage suffers the consequences of not dancing in time to our steps."

"That is a terribly mixed metaphor," noted Esther. "Hail the Dire Wolf," she ordered. "Let them know that the Khan
of the Star Adders has arrived for the Grand Kurultai."

One of her officers spoke into a microphone and then held up a second headset for the Star Colonel to take. She listened to the message and
then blinked. "Repeat that, Dire Wolf. I do not believe that I heard that correctly."

"Is something the matter?" asked Virgilia.

"Apparently there was a suicide attack on the Dire Wolf yesterday," Esther told her. "A convoy of Inner Sphere jumpships
arrived - presumably by accident as only one had a lithium-fusion battery and could escape. One of their fighters rammed the Dire Wolf's bridge and the
ilKhan is missing. Presumably his body was sucked out into space and has been lost."

"Oh." Virgilia cudgelled her mind for words to say under these circumstances. "Clearly this will be a Grand Kurultai to
remember."





Nadir Jump Point, Radstadt

Wolf Occupation Zone

2 November 3050

"Khan Truscott." Ulric Kerensky had used his influence as the host to take charge of the assembled Council. "There have been
some rather worrying reports from our sources of information in the Inner Sphere. Specifically, reports that you clan has invaded the Inner Sphere in flagrant
disregard for the opertations plan that was approved by the Grand Council for that Invasion. I also gather that Khan Roderick N'Buta is in fact leading
this invasion and that this is why he is not here today. Would you care to comment on this?"

Virgilia was lounging in her chair in the chamber and did not bother to rise to address the Council. "I recall a certain Trial of
Refusal over that plan of invasion," she said lazily. "Would anyone like to remind the Council of the outcome or shall I embarass Robin Steele in
public again?"

"The Trial was unsuccessful," the Coyote Khan snarled.

"Overall, yes," agreed Virgilia mildly. "However, Clan Star Adder won our Trial and are therefore not bound to abide by that
plan. Given that we had already voted to invade... well, we simply accepted that circumstance and proceeded to do so. You can hardly have imagined we would do
anything else. We are Crusaders after all. The foremost of the Crusader Clans, in many ways," she added in a none-to-subtle jab at the other Crusaders in
the room.

"I demand a Trial of Refusal!" spluttered the man.

"Much as I would love the opportunity to put your aged carcass out of the Council's collective misery, the regulations laid down by
Kerensky himself state that there may only be one Trial of Refusal on an issue." She smiled at him. "Now then, whatever the original reason for
calling this meeting of the Grand Council, surely our first priority should be filling that empty seat over there?" Virgilia nodded to the ilKhan's
empty throne. "We are at war after all."

"Odd that you would have so much respect for an office you systematically deceived," Elias Crichell said a touch
irritably.

"I can respect the office without respecting the individual occupying it," lied Virgilia with a straight face.

Ulric cleared his throat. "In any event, I agree with Khan Truscott. We should adjourn to Strana Mechty to elect a new
ilKhan."

"Ulric Kerensky, have you gone completely insane?" asked Virgilia in the precise same tones that she had used almost exactly ten
months earlier to Leo Showers. This time she elaborated. "I am delighted to hear that you are so confident that you are willing to spend most of a year
taking up space in a dropship. However, Clan Smoke Jaguar's unfortunate reverse on Wolcott has demonstrated that the Inner Sphere is capable of posing a
considerable challenge to the invasion and the recent triumph of the Falcon Guards on Twycross is clear evidence that the Inner Sphere is prepared to
counterattack. I do not feel that relinquishing our current momentum is well advised."

"No ilKhan has ever been elected except within the Hall of Khans!"

"Mindless adherence to tradition was not a trait that the Founder revered, Khan Kabrinksi," Virgilia replied to the recently
elected junior Khan of Clan Ghost Bear. "Else why would he have begun new traditions when he created the Clans? The fact is that we are at war. Our
opponents will not give us the luxury of time to return home and debate in a leisurely fashion our future courses of action."

"Until now, they have done no more than react to our presence. Given the space of time to reorder and perhaps even to re-equip and
expand their forces, they will commence their own strategies to which we shall have no choice but to react to, thereby placing us on the defensive and fatally
undermining our positions. Indeed, it is regrettably possible that they are already in the process of doing so."

"It is my proposal therefore that we continue with the invasion. Electing an ilKhan need not be done today, if you feel that it is
appropriate to discuss the options with your Councils, and if applicable to confer as to your own prospective candidacy for the position of ilKhan. However, I
do not incline towards delaying such a vote beyond the end of this year. If it is the desire of the Grand Council to resume debate upon Strana Mechty then you
may assume that I and my saKhan abstain. We shall continue the invasion no matter what."
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

Zenith Jump Point, Irian

Free Worlds League

19 November 3050

Thomas Marik realised immediately the hatch opened the reasons that the Commonwealth dropship was holding position without thrust instead of
maintaining a comfortable one gravity of acceleration. Hanse Davion's face was typically ruddy on public broadcasts but now it was grey and the lines were
pronounced. He's almost a decade older than me, the Captain-General reminded himself, but he's ruled half the Inner Sphere for longer than I have
governed the League.

"I was told to expect a high level envoy," he said lightly, entering the compartment. "I admit, I didn't expect you. SAFE
reported your collapse but thought you had entered a medical retreat on Argyle."

Hanse shook his head. "I haven't returned to Argyle in twenty-five years," he confessed. "Too much time in the dungeons
there."

Thomas blinked. "You mean that old tale of being replaced by an imposter and locked away was the truth?" he asked in surprise as
Hanse gestured towards a seat opposite him at the room's small table. "I thought it no more than someone's overactive imagination." The hatch
closed behind him, leaving Thomas' lone guard matching stares with the Davion marine outside it and the two rulers in unheard of privacy.

The First Prince smiled weakly. "I don't know what tale you were told, but Maxmillian Liao did indeed arrange a scheme to replace me
with a brainwashed body-double. He very nearly succeeded, only the brave intervention of some loyal officers was able to free me and then prove my identity to
the court." He shrugged. "It seems astonishing after all this time that such a plan could come so close to success, that an imposter could replace
one of the Successor Lords."

"Yes," Thomas agreed. "And yet you triumphed and went on to greater triumphs over the next decade." His eyes narrowed.
"But I doubt that you requested this meeting to discuss history, Prince Davion. Saving for yourself and your lovely bride, no two Successor Lords have met
in person since your wedding day and I doubt that you have broken that circumstance for trivialities."

"You are correct," Hanse said. "But first, some background information." He pulled out a paper chart of the Inner Sphere.
"I am sure you are aware that the 'heavy raiding' that has been reported on the Periphery is in fact an overwhelming invasion. This should show
you the extent of the problem that my wife and I face."

Thomas unfolded the chart and traced a bold orange line that ran along the border of his own Free Worlds League with the Lyran Commonwealth
and then rose erratically through the worlds of Donegal. Worlds to the left of the line were marked with blood red squares and despite a handful of salients,
it was clear that the line marked where the borders of the Commonwealth had been driven back by almost a hundred lightears, more in places for one of those
sanguine salients drive almost to the faint curved line that by convention marked out the distance of two hundred and fifty light years from Terra itself.
Closer to the top of the chart, another mass of green squares and a loose trail of brown squares marked more lost worlds before a dotted line cut across the
top of the Free Rasalhague Republic and the Draconis Combine.

The brief temptation to gloat, to jibe at the terrible losses suffered by the leviathan neighbour that had cast its shadow across his entire
reign, rose within Thomas but he clamped down on it. "How sure are you of the losses taken by the Combine and the Republic?"

"Confident," Hanse told him. He handed over a disc. "This contains full details of how we worked it out. Your own analysts can
look it over but put briefly, ComStar notifies only the rulers of a lost world. For others they continue to provide economic data, produced from past records.
We simply identified how they calculated that data and used it to pick out worlds where that calculation matched what was being reported. The Republic is half
gone. The Combine is not so badly off of course, but the invaders - Clan Smoke Jaguar being the specific group that they are facing - are perilously close to
Luthien."

Thomas' brow furrowed. "I wonder why they are doing that. Granted I could hardly see you and Takashi Kurita forming a combined
front, but that sounds almost as if..."

"I'm sure that if asked, the Primus would piously state that it was not ComStar's right to divulge that information to rival
states, and that in fact it might violate their neutrality."

"Hmm." Thomas shrugged and looked the chart over again. The only parts he was previously sure of were the sections nearer his own
borders, but they were certainly extensive losses. "So, are you going to tell me how they have managed to throw the vaunted Armed Forces of the Federated
Commonwealth back so successfully? Some of these worlds were quite well defended: I should know, some of them were being defended against my father a few
decades ago."

"Partly surprise," admitted Hanse candidly. "They didn't catch us totally offguard - there were reports of raiding in the
periphery and I was concerned enough to send three regiments of the Lyran Guards out to stiffen the periphery defenses but I never considered the possibility
of more than some heavy raiding. As far as we can estimate, the invaders have numbers at least as high as those of the Capellan Confederation's full
strength and their technology is even higher than that of the old Star League. There's a download here, but fighting them is nightmarish. You know what was
deployed on Poulsbo: a full Regimental Combat Team and more than half of a ComGuards Division. They got rolled over within a day."

"That is worrying."

"Yes. It's taken us a while to piece together a picture of their war machine Captain-General," Hanse said. "I'm providing you with that
information as well," he indicated a box of data chips on the room's shelf. "Consider it a gift. They have superior Mechs, Aerospace Fighters and
Tanks, as well as armoured infantry and some kind of ultralight mechs that are giving us fits. It's only recently, with the news from a raid carried out on
Twycross, that we've even established that they are human."

Thomas Marik was not, by profession, a soldier. He had had the customary military training that the Marik family had demanded of their scions
for almost a thousand years and since taking the reins of power had taken sufficient training that he could proficiently handle a Battlemech. He had led his
nation through the Andurien War and was as certain as he could be that there was no one with any better chance than he had of holding the League together if
the Commonwealth had decided to crush them.

But it was not until he looked into Hanse Davion's eyes that he knew the gulf that lay between his experiences and those of Hanse Davion
who had risen through the ranks of his own military with meteoric speed not entirely due to his royal birth and had ordered men to their deaths in battle
before his brother's death had elevated him to the throne of the then Federated Suns. Hanse Davion knew, far better than Thomas, the hell that was being
demanded of his soldiers. And he would still order it, no matter how much it cost him.

"Who was it?" Thomas asked. "Hasek-Davion?" He knew that the Marshal of Armies was personally directing the war
front.

Hanse looked away. "My son," he whispered.

A long silence fell between them.

"Why did you ask me to meet you here?" Thomas asked at last.

Hanse smiled sadly. "You said that you could not see me forming an alliance with Takashi," he reminded him. "You're right.
I don't believe that I could. Theodore perhaps. He's more pragmatic than his father. But even if I could, the benefits would be limited. We're both
already stripping our mutual borders to face the Clans and are fully engaged in it. And I hope that you don't imagine that there could ever be any alliance
between Romano Liao and I. So. If I want an ally in this war..."

Thomas's jaw dropped. "You want me to become your ally? To fight the clans? You've just told me how savagely they have worked
you over and your armed forces are more than three times the size of the League's military!"

"I know. But believe me, Captain-General, they will come for you. The Clans are sparing you now only so that they can concentrate on the
more dangerous of the Successor States. Once we are broken and the Combine is no more, they will turn on you."

More silence.

"My generals will argue," Thomas said thoughtfully, "And rightly, that by that point they will be garrisoning a thousand
worlds. Spread thin and weakened by many casualties. Untouched by the war and with years of preparation, we will be far better able to withstand the Clans. And
they will also tell me, Hanse Davion, that when that time comes, the Free Worlds League will not face certain rivals that until this year posed a great and
credible threat to the sovereignty and the democracy of the League." He did not meet the eyes of the man across the table.

"Perhaps," Hanse agreed calmly. "Perhaps not."

"Alright then. Tell me what you want exactly. I'm listening."

"Approval for your military industries to export to us. Priority over everyone, including your own army, for purchasing munitions,
Mechs... all the tools of war. Even with my budget I can only buy a fraction of what they build, but it will make a difference. Loans from your banks to fund
those purchases if necessary. A grace period on export duties: we'll pay you, if we survive. There are historical precendents. Something called lendlease
from Terra's twentieth century has been suggested, but I don't think that you could sell that to your parliament."

The Captain-General nodded. "The numbers would need to be looked at, but that is not unreasonable."

"I also want you to start fighting now. To hit the Star Adder flank and push them back."

"Now?"

"I know you've reinforced your borders where they attacked," Hanse said intently. "You could hit them with twenty brigades
within a week."

Thomas shook his head. "Not quite so many," he disagreed. "And that is a huge fraction of my army, Hanse. I could agree to
fight in a year, maybe in six months. But those soldiers are prepared to defend the League, not for an offensive campaign."

"Six months from now they'll be into Skye! A year from now, they'll be on Terra. Now, Thomas! Now!"

"You know how many of my soldiers will die if I send them in unprepared. I won't insult you by asking how you would feel in my
place."

Hanse nodded. "Alright. But I also know how many of my soldiers will die in that time." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"If you have troops fighting by Christmas then I have Melissa's permission to cede any world you liberate from the Star Adders to the
League."

"No."

"Don't push me, Marik."

"Push you!?" Thomas almost exploded out of his seat.

The redhaired Successor Lord nodded sharply. "I have one more card, Thomas Marik. There is a gift that I can give you. Something that I
would rather offer you without strings. But if I have to make that gift your price... I will, whatever it costs me."

"I don't believe you can offer me anything!"

"I will save your son's life!" Hanse said with cruel honesty.

The Captain-General of the Free Worlds League collapsed into his chair, colour fleeing the unscarred portions of his face.
"W-what?"

"Joshua has terminal leukaemia," Hanse said in a gentler tone. "NAIS is the finest centre of medical science in the Inner
Sphere. If anyone can save him then they can."

Thomas stared at the devil in front of him, dangling the sweetest of temptations in front of him. "You would use a child's
life!" he half-cried.

"Yes, Captain-General. Just as you would let my other children die fighting for their patrimony, along with a million other fathers'
sons and daughters. I am giving you the chance to defend your people before the Clans cross the borders and force them to fight for their homes in their homes.
If you will not take that offer, sir, then be damned to you!"





Cavanuagh II

Star Adder Occupation Zone

17 December 3050

The Clans were obviously not posting their first team on garrison duties, Colonel Roy Potempkin noted. The proposed battlefield for this
little setpiece was largley open with patches of trees and a few small lakes and ponds. It looked like it had been used as a park at one point and there was
rubble suggesting that a few buldings had been demolished in the recent past, too recently for the site to have been cleaned up.

On the far side of this expanse, the enemy tanks were lined up and he could see helicopters hovering just above the ground opposite his right
flank. The trees on the right flank of this 'Star Colonel' Hutchinson's formation masked any deployment in that direction. Unless there was
something truly remarkable behind them, this wouldn't be especially challenging: Potempkin's 1st Brigade of the Fusiliers of Oriente were among the
most elite mechwarriors in the Inner Sphere and he was deploying almost the entire regiment for this operation, leaving the tanks and infantry in reserve. If
the reports he'd been given were correct, then the Clanners made heavy use of infernos and Potempkin was not inclined to feed his conventional troops into
that sort of fire unless it was truly necessary.

The Colonel posted his Marauder near the middle of the Fusiliers line, on a hillock that gave him a good view of the battlefield. Thus far
these Star Adders seemed content to hold their ground. That was fine with Potempkin, the range was more than even the remarkable figures that had been quoted
to him and if he had all of the enemy pinned in position facing him, that would leave nothing to oppose the 3rd Fusiliers and the 4th Hussars, also Oriente
units, as they moved out of the landing zone to start liberating the planet... and not incidentally, annexing it into the League.

Medium battlemechs - Shadow Hawks and Wolverines mostly although there were a pair of Vindicators that dated back to the Fusiliers' last
posting on the Liao frontier - fanned out in front of his heavy lances, screening them against any probes by the helicopters. In order to target the main
force, the light attack craft would have to move inside the ranges of the skirmishers. Of course, they could just fire at the skirmishers but those would be
harder targets to hit at long range.

When that didn't provoke anything, Potempkin shifted his formation slowly forwards. They were still well outside long range missile range
when lasers began to lash out across the parkland. Only a handful of shots hit, but the fact that any of them hit at all was astonishing. Fortunately the
number of shots fired was not actually all that high and Potempkin's eyes narrowed. He had assumed that the tanks were heavies at least to be trying to
take on Mechs in a stand up fight. But if they weren't, if they were actually light enough that they each only had one of those long range lasers as their
primary armament...

"Get in close!" he snapped and with the decisive swiftness that marked a crack unit, almost a hundred battlemechs moved out at
sixty, eighty or almost a hundred kilometers an hour. There was a predator's smile on Potempkin's face as he saw the line of tanks hesitate. If they
were light tanks then they could probably outpace him and prevent a decisive engagement, but they would have to react swiftly if they were to prevent him from
entering the range of his own longer ranged weapons and they failed to do so, only two of them recognising their peril and quickly backing up and turning to
withdraw. More lasers hit, but there were no more of them than before and now long range missiles were beginning to reach out towards the tanks.

Helicopters swept overhead and the Marauder rocked as two lasers converged to batter at his right side. Without breaking stride, the Colonel
turned his autocannon and fired at the nearer of the two. Shells tore through the rotor array and sparks flew from the whirling metal. More weapons fired
upwards and the attack helicopter crashed abruptly to the floor with all the aerodynamics of a brick once its propulsion was disabled. A second exploded
outright as a Rifleman's lasers dug into bins of inferno missiles and the flaming, napalm-flooded wreck crashed into a pond, fire spreading across the
water.





Herzberg

Star Adder Occupation Zone

24 December 3050

"No," Roderick N'Buta said coolly. "I do not believe that it would be appropriate to add Ivar Hutchinson's bloodright
to those that we will be holding Trials for after the invasion. Instead, advise Leonidas Hutchinson that it is the opinion of the saKhan that any warrior who
would lower themselves to compete for such a tainted bloodright would not be desirable members of the Clan Council."

His aide paled slightly. The permanent reduction of a Bloodname House was legal, but only with the agreement of the Grand Council and at a
minimum, the N'Buta House could expect a similar challenge to one of their bloodrights the next time one fell open. For the saKhan to declare his intent to
carry it out in the middle of the invasion and with the Star Adders already on the outs with a majority of the other Khans... the consequences could be far
reaching. The Hutchinsons and their allies on the Clan Council would move solidly in opposition to the saKhan and if he failed to handle that then his tenure
as Khan would end abruptly.

"I was not appointed as saKhan to avoid difficult decisions," Roderick added in explanation. "The bloodnamed need to
understand the consequences of stupidity. I would not order this merely for defeat, but Ivar essentially threw away an entire cluster for nothing. That cannot
be excused."

He handed a datapad over to the aide. "Get the message sent," he said dismissively and then brought up a strategic display as the
younger warrior left - retreated - from his presence.

The attacks had hit three worlds right on the border with the League: Cavanaugh II, Timbiqui and Poulsbo, all worlds that had been taken by
Alpha Galaxy. That wasn't entirely unexpected, but the reports from Poulsbo suggested rather larger numbers of jumpships than would be required for the
troops that had hit that planets. Either they had an excessive number of reserves or... "They're going deeper," Roderick muttered and eyed
systems in the area. Penobscot and Pencader were both within a single jump of the border so they would be hit of course, but from Poulsbo they could jump
onwards to Khon Kaen and then start chewing into Iota Galaxy's rear area.

"We need to take the iniative back," he said thoughtfully and looked at his own deployments. Every last unit in Iota Galaxy was in
the process of preparation for redeployment against this new threat. Roderick hated breaking off this close to Bolan but Delta Galaxy could swing
'south' and take it reasonably soon. A detachment of Alpha Galaxy were on Abramkovo, having swept up that minor world, but the rest were further away,
having been guarding worlds a little further back from the border where they could respond to a threat.

The Khan considered and nodded. If the Free Worlds League wanted to play hardball then he'd give them a lesson in how the clans played
that game. Like most sports, they were more than a touch rougher about it than their Inner Sphere counterparts.





Madiun

Star Adder Occupation Zone

24 December 3050

Duke Togo scanned the contents of the orders that had just arrived, then turned to his senior . "Immediate message to the 10th Hussars
and the 191st Guards," he said calmly. "They are to leave Abramkovo to the garrison forces immediately and redeploy to retake Khon Kaen from the Free
Worlds League."

"Khon Kaen has fallen!?" Star Colonel Ravi Gena said in surprise.

The Galaxy Commander shook his head. "Not yet, but an invasion force is almost certainly en route. Iota Galaxy is moving to support us
but we will need to handle this end of the front."

"We can be on Khon Kaen at least a week before the 10th and the 101st," suggested Ravi.

"No. You are to take the 34th Armored Cavalry, 85th Cavaliers and 87th Dragoons to Timbiqui to retake that. You're going to anchor
the whole line while the Hussars and Guards bog down that spearhead. I will meet the 5th Assault Cluster and the 11th Armored Cavalry at Circinus and then
bypass their attack to hit their rear area at Cerillos."

The Star Colonel whistled. "Audacious," he admitted. "Is it not hazardous to divide our forces so widely?"

"We are outnumbered," Duke Togo said flatly. "But without their supply bases, this can work to our advantage." Then his
eyes narrowed. "Did I not just assign you a target?"

Ravi took the hint and left the compartment, leaving Duke to pack for his own departure. It took only a few moments for the large man to
throw a handful of jumpsuits into a bag, tucking his dress uniform over them and dlipping the small case that held his toiletries into a side pocket. The only
remaining personal item in the room was an almost empty bottle of wine and the Galaxy Commander removed the cork and emptied all but the dregs into a glass.
Raising it in sardonic salute to the screen of his room's comm panel, he sipped on it thoughtfully until the glass was empty.

Then he left the room, discarding glass and bottle into the trash to be cleaned away by the labourer caste steward who would prepare the room
for its next occupant.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

Dagda
Pentagon Worlds, Clan Homeworlds
25 December 3050

Star Commander Djef of the 421st Sentinel Cluster, Kappa Galaxy ran his Blood Kite, the prize from a long ago skirmish with Clan Blood Spirit, forwards as fast as he could. His Star had been despatched to secure a steep hill overlooking the principal approach to the Star Adder's main munitions factories on Dagda and it appeared that they had arrived barely in time. Reconnaissence flights by the local aerospace command confirmed that at least a binary of Coyote Mechs were approaching by this route but the 421st had to cover all routes and it would take time for the rest of the trinary to arrive.

To either side of him the other Mechs of his Star spread out and if he lacked numbers he could not complain about the weight of metal on his side. To his right, Mechwarrior Stavros was piloting one of the Dire Wolf assault omnimechs that had been left behind by the units tapped for the invasion of the Inner Sphere. Although among the most potent battlemechs ever built, the Dire Wolf was also slow and plodding. On Djef's other side, Mechwarrior Michelle's Stone Rhino was flanked by a second Dire Wolf and Blood Kite, all of the heaviest weight class and formidably armed.

Djef's plan was simple. They would take firing positions on the hill and rain death down upon the upstart Coyotes who planned to fuel their continued feud with the Adders by springing upon them while their finest warriors were thousands of light years away. On the ground just short of a kilometer away, he could see that the leading Star: a Viper and a Nova backing up a Fire Moth, Mist Lynx and Adder were being followed by an Attack Star of two more Adders and three Stormcrows. The Mechs were fast, but lacked the raw power of Djef's command: indeed although they outnumbered him two to one, the balance of tonnage was three to two in his favour. They were also just outside his range so he had made it just barely in time.

"Pick your targets and drop them!" he ordered. "No zellbrigen but these are lights and mediums so spread your fire at first, we need to whittle them down and most of them can't take a solid volley." He flared his jumpjets and the eighty-five ton Blood Kite arced through the air, covering almost a hundred metres to land in a copse of trees that would give him at least a little cover. Stavros took up a similar position a hundred or so yards behind him and Michelle led Alistair's Blood Kite into larger spread of trees that climbed one of the hill's two peaks. The last Dire Wolf, Mechwarrior Justine's ride, had no such cover as she took position a hundred and twenty metres to Djef's left.

In front of them, a steep cliff cut most of the side of the hill to a point that Mechs could not have scaled it save with jump jets. Only in front of Michelle and Alistair was it shallower, which should prevent most of the Coyotes from coming into close quarters. An oval lake spanned some of the ground between them which gave good open ground to fire across. At extreme range, Djef targetted the nearest Mech and fired all three of his large lasers at the Fire Moth. He missed the speedy Mech and none of his other warriors were quite in range yet. Only one of the Coyotes fired back and it was no more accurate, the Stormcrow's lasers missing Justine by quite a margin.

"Incoming heavies," she reported coolly and Djef scowled as he saw Timber Wolves, Summoners and a Hellbringer moving into view behind the others. A full Trinary. That made things harder.

"Ignore them for now," he ordered. "They aren't even in range of us yet."

The attack star was joing up with the slower of the scouts now, but the Mist Lynx and the Fire Moth were closing with their trademark lightning speed. Behind him, Stavros shifted forwards, trying to improve his position. Justine, Michelle and Alistair both fired on the Fire Moth - it was the only target in range so far. Hit by at leas three large lasers, the light mech was torn apart. In response to this open disregard for zellbrigen at least five mechs opened fire on Justine's Dire Wolf, which shrugged off the damage contemptuously. Djef fired on the Mist Lynx this time, two of his lasers and all three long range missile lanchers firing. He was firing swarm missiles, so if the missiles missed they might overshoot into an Adder that was close on the heels of the scout mech. He was disappointed however. Stavros fired at the same target but it was a chancy shot at best and he did no better.

Stavros continued to combine fire with Djef and their lasers tore the left arm off one of the Adders as well as brutalising it's chest. A Viper also lost an arm, this time to Alistairs lasers. Justine was the prime target as well and there was a flash as her gauss rifle's capacitors were hit, wrecking the entire arm. Combined with the other damage, she lost her balance and the one hundred ton omnimech hit the floor with a crash.

"Move back for cover," Djef ordered her. "You can't take that sort of pounding." She did not move however and Djef realised that she must have been knocked out by the fall. She would be the perfect target until or unless she could move back from her prominent location.

"Commander..." Michelle said pleadingly. She and Justine had been part of the same sibko.

"Hold your ground," he bit off. "None of our Mechs have hands so we can't drag her to cover. All you will accomplish is to make yourself a target.

The Viper took cover in the lake, presumably trying to avoid more damage. Djef doubted the wisdom of the move as the already damaged Mech might well flood, causing that very outcome, but he was in no position to complain since at least the Mech would be unable to fire up from below the water's surface.

The anti-missile system on Justine's mech hadn't been knocked out and it swatted the first volley of missiles to descent upon it. It didn't save her though and the Dire Wolf shattered as lasers and particle beams shredded it. Djef thought that the coup de grace was the explosion of a bin of short ranged missiles but it was impossible to be sure. He picked out a Timber Wolf that had sent a volley of long range missiles over the lake and into the fallen Dire Wolf and shapped off two laser shots and three clusters of long range missiles. The Timber Wolf crashed into the lake shore under the bombardment and several missiles missed only to lock onto the Stormcrow backing it up, but the heavy Mech was not permanently disabled, he was sure.

Now Djef was the focus of the Coyote's wrath and his electronic displays flickered as a particle beam ripped through most of the armour on his Blood Kite's right arm. Trees around him burst into flames and he was unable to target the other Timber Wolf, now storming towards the cliffside, effectively. A dozen missiles smashed into him and he was hard put to stay upright. The smoke was blowing backwards away from the Coyote Mechs and Stavros ran forward into it as it was blocking his view of them. Djef himself twisted and backed out of the trees. Hopefully the smoke would obscure him from the targeting of the Coyotes - it had to be better than surrounding himself with burning trees.

It appeared to work as he was ignored with the next salvo, which split between Stavros and Michelle's battlemechs. He and Stavros concentrated their fire on the Timber Wolf while Michelle and Alistair focused on the Viper as it waded out of the water. Neither Mech fell but both showed obvious damage from the fire. He fired again, but the heavy Mech seened disinclined to fall. It did fall back however, which made the Stormcrows working around the lake towards Michelle and Alistair the main threat. Michelle continued to fire at an Adder Mech, but the other three Star Adders bombarded the pair viciously, driving one of the two to its knees. Fire raged around the feet of Michelle's Stone Rhino as errant energy weapons set the trees aflame and she moved carefully out of them.

The Coyotes finally leaned their lesson and dispersed their formation. Djef punched two laser shots into the right side of a Stormcrow that waded into the lake and saw an Adder with huge long range missile launchers consumed by silvery fire as Alistair's missiles hit gaping holes in its armour. A moment later he was blinking up at his display screen as he realised that his Blood Kite had been knocked down. The armour on his right arm was paper thin - any more damage and he might well lose the missile launchers in it, he realised.

"Situation?" he demanded as he brought the Mech upright.

"We thought we'd lost you for a moment," Michelle reported. "My left leg is looking weak - not much armour left."

"Have not been hit at all," Alistair chimed in, sounding almost as if he was complaining.

Stavros finished off the roll call with: "Right side is a little weak but not serious."

"Understood," Djef confirmed. "Hit that Stormcrow then."

Their combined fire shattered the medium Mech's right arm and caved in its right side before falling over for a second time, this time out of the water. Unfortunately, return fire from a Timber Wolf caught Djef's right arm with both extended range PPCs and true to his expectations took the whole limb off, blasting almost a ton of armour from the shoulder to boot. His heat spiked in reminder that the arm had also contained several heatsinks and the coolant system suddenly had to struggle to maintain the cockpit temperature. He had to stagger his next volley carefully, but the Stormcrow collapsed in a way that indicated major internal structural damage that would prevent it from rising, or indeed doing anything more than twitching, without the attention of a large technical crew.

"Move back into more cover, Michelle," Djef ordered. "We can take this punishment longer than they can."

The lone Hellbringer was now in the lead of the Coyote advance. Thus far it had not been targeted at all and it's anti-missile turret defended it from all but a dozen missiles out of the volley that the Star Adders dropped on it. Behind Djef, Stavros fired all four of his large lasers into a Summoner, hitting with three of them and causing it to crash to the floor, taking even more damage.

Thus far the honours were more or less even, by the Star Commander's reckoning. Both sides had lost a fifth of their forces and had serious damage to about half of what was left. Given that his one Star was blocking a full quarter of the Coyote's attack force, that wasn't bad but it might not be good enough. And there was no hope of escape: the other Clan's Mechs were so much faster that they would run him down without any difficulty at all.

He fired into the nearest Adder and was pleased to see it tumble to the ground. Switching fire to the Hellbringer he was astonished to see every shot he or Alistair fired miss completely. Only Michelle hit it, with one of her pulse lasers. Fortunately for his nerves, Stavros was having more luck in a long range duel against the Timber Wolf trying to flank them around the lake and the Mech tipped forwards into the ground, both arms missing and the front almost entirely stripped of armour.

Surprisingly, it stood up and staggered even closer although Djef doubted that the mechwarrior inside had more than his machineguns and maybe a medium laser left to fight with. Stavros put even that out of the question with another brutal volley while the rest of the Star targeted the last Adder as it ran past the Hellbringer and tore it apart with lasers, missiles and Michelle's gauss rifles. "We may survive this yet," Djef muttered to himself, careful not to transmit that admission of concern to his subordinates.

Another Stormcrow ran forward, this one with a massive autocannon. Fortunately it missed Alistair's Blood Kite but despite the considerable firepower that rained down on it and the Hellbringer (whose charmed life had apparently run out), neither Mech fell. They fired again. This time the Hellbringer died under the lasers of Djef and Michelle while the Stormcrow missed again with it's deadly autocannon, the cannon silenced a moment later when one of Alistair's lasers cut through the arm that carried it at the elbow.

The Stormcrow turned to bring its lasers into play and Djef hit it with two volleys of missiles although his lasers failed to hit. What was left of the omnimech's reactor exited its rear armour in a way surely not intended by its designers. Beyond it he saw the Mist Lynx fall to the ground under Alistair and Michelle's guns and a moment later the remaining Timber Wolf followed it's lighter cousin's example as Stavros scored on its right leg, damaging the myomers that controlled it.

"Stravag," the Dire Wolf's pilot observed in a startled voice. "My engine's hit." The large Mech had strayed out of the smoke in it's eagerness for the kill and was paying the price. He gingerly backed up under the covering smoke again, practically glowing on Djef's infrared sensors. He fired three lasers at the Mist Lynx and missed entirely while Michelle finished off the Timber Wolf, both gauss rifles hitting it, one of them crushing the cockpit. Djef picked out the Viper at long range and blew it's remaining arm off while Alistair managed a head shot that didn't quite finish off the elusive Mist Lynx as it rose to it's feet but must have caused considerable damage to the systems around the cockpit.

Djef fired again and this time the Viper keeled over backwards, cooling rapid as the engine died. The rest of the shooting was desultory, with Michelle landing the only hit on the Nova, which had thus far never come close enough to register as a threat to anyone. Switching targets he failed to hit one of the Summoners lurking at the back of the group. The numbers were almost even and he was tempted to close the range, but the crash of Michelle's Stone Rhino hitting the ground was reminder enough that the Coyote's might be dogs but they hadn't been whipped yet.

"Are you injured?" he asked her.

"Not seriously," Michelle assured him and moment later the Mech staggered upright. "They got through the armour on my left leg where it was already weak, but the leg's still mostly sound." She proved it a moment later, firing a volley into the last Stormcrow, her pulse laser stitching holes through the last armour over its chest. The Coyote Mechwarrior managed to keep himself upright however.

Neither Blood Kite could afford the heat of firing missiles, but both pilots selected targets and fired all three of their lasers. Stavros fired a similar volley at the same Summoner that Djef was targeting and Michelle fired both gauss rifles into the Stormcrow which was peppering Djef's position with missiles. She missed, but Alsitair finally destroyed the Mist Lynx, one laser carving away what remained of one leg and up into the battered chest. Both sides of the battle knew that the fight was almost over, one side or another would have to concede soon as their damaged Mechs failed them.

A Summoner fell, and Michelle's Stone Rhino hit the ground again as her right shoulder disintergrated, the gauss rifle tearing itself apart and sending one arm spinning away. "Michelle, report your status," Djef demanded. In terrifying repetition of what had happened to Justine, she made no reply.

"Cover me," he ordered and jumped forwards, hoping that his distraction and the smoke would prevent the Coyotes from noticing the other mechwarrior's helpless state. The Blood Kite plunged off the cliff and only a fierce burn from his jumpjets spared him an ignominious end to falling more than three times the height of his own Mech. The sharp sound of the other gauss rifle's coils detonating above him told him that he had failed although at least some of the fire was redirected upon him, autocannon submunitions cracking armour all across his Blood Kite.

Sweat ran down his face as he twisted to face the Nova, which was using the cliff-face to mask it from Alistair's position above and unleashed almost every weapon remaining to him. The combined fire of Alistair and Stavros brought down the Stormcrow but an instant later, the beacon of Michelle's Stone Rhino vanished, silently signalling the younger warrior's fate. He could hardly breathe, engine shielding beginning to fail as the two Summoners and the Nova flailed him brutally with their weapons.

The Nova jumped higher up the slope and he fired recklessly into the smaller Mech, hitting both arms and one leg with his lasers, then scattering missiles across its chest. The mechwarrior had misjudged his route and Stavros had a clear shot as the Coyote mech reeled, all four pulse lasers ripping into it, wrecking the left arm and tearing away the right side of the chest, which had been by far the better protected side of the Mech. Systems failing, Djef felt his Mech falling forwards but the last thing that he saw before the Blood Kite hit the ground head first was the Nova tumbling down the hillside.

When Djef woke he was on a Star Adder dropship boosting away from Dagda. He and Stavros were the only survivors of their Star but Stavros' Dire Wolf had been the only mech standing at the end of the battle. The rest of the Trial of Possession had been similarly apocalyptic: Sigma Galaxy, reinforced by the 421st Sentinels, had shattered the Coyotes Alpha Galaxy and driven them away from their holdings. However, they had taken thirty percent losses and a new challenge from Clan Fire Mandrill with a flotilla of Clan Ice Hellion dropships heading for Dagda with most of a Galaxy aboard made it clear that open season had been declared upon the Star Adders.

The 421st was being withdrawn to Sheridan, with enough Sigma Galaxy warriors in tow to rebuild to full strength. The rest of Sigma were remaining behind to bleed the scavengers as hard as they could and to buy time for technical crews to pack up the most vital factories onto a convoy of dropships that had been dispatched as soon as the situation became apparent.

The Adders had been hit hard. It was time to regroup, to bind their wounds and to make the other Clans pay a high price for the opportunism. Along with the 421st on their dropship was all but two warheads of the portion of their nuclear arsenal that they had quietly hidden on Dagda decades before. The factories that would be hardest to move were being evacuated entirely and would be destroyed to render as hollow as possible any victory for whoever finally managed to drive Sigma from them.

 

Zenith Jump Point, Outreach
Sarna March, Federated Commonwealth
30 December 3051

Hanse Davion had not enjoyed spending the first Christmas in more than a decade away from his family although he supposed that he was hardly the only one having a depressing holiday season. There had been a little party among the crew of the Camelot but it had felt a little flat so he had wished them all a merry Christmas and pled fatigue, which was closer to the truth than he liked. The trouble was that he had a suspicion that the crew would feel it was their duty to try to cheer him up tomorrow evening as well and he didn't want to be cheered up. He was losing his wife's realm world by world, his son and heir was missing in action - not that he'd seen all that much of him growing up as it was - and he'd just used another man's son to force him to send thousands of soldiers who'd never done anything to him to their deaths.

He was trying to shake off the dull feeling of guilt by reading the reports they'd picked up at Denebola when someone knocked on the door of his compartment. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It wasn't one of the doctors that Melissa had insisted on sending with him - they visited as regularly as clockwork. And it wasn't as if any sort of disaster was likely in this star system of all systems. Someone would have to have a death wish to pick a fight with the Dragoons when all five regiments and their supporting units were in the system.

"Come in!" he called and the door opened to reveal a short man with thinning grey hair in the uniform of the Wolf Dragoons. "Colonel Wolf! How the devil did you get aboard!"

"The jumpship you'll be taking on your next jump is a Dragoon jumpship," Jaime Wolf explained. "I knew you would be passing through so I arranged to take a fast shuttle out here." He looked around. "I'd like you to delay your departure for a few hours. Perhaps for a full day. We need to talk."

Hanse examined the mercenary leader for a moment and then touched the intercom built into his desk. "Captain, please contact the jumpship and ask them to delay their jump while I confer with Colonel Wolf. I don't imagine that he will have any objections."

"Given the movement of troops you would need to spend a day or two over Terra Firma waiting for a jumpship to make a jump in your directions," advised Wolf. "This shouldn't delay your return to New Avalon."

"You're as well informed as ever, Colonel," observed Hanse, depositing the reports back in their binder and setting it aside. "I assume that you are here to talk about the Clans. Unless there's something else of sphere-shattering significance going on that ComStar are intent on hiding from everyone."

"If they are, then they're making a remarkably good job of hiding it from Wolf Net," Jaime said with a chuckle. "No, I'm here to discuss the Clans."

Hanse nodded. "This isn't just offering to fight them," he said. "You could have sent word to me of that any number of ways. You want to know... no, you want to tell me something about the Clans that I don't know. Not that we have encyclopedias of information on them already, admittedly."

Wolf nodded. "You're as shrewd as ever, Prince Davion," he returned Hanse's earlier words. "I was sorry to hear about Victor. Morgan Kell told me that he ejected so it is likely that he was captured rather than killed."

The Prince nodded. "We can hope, I suppose. So, what can you tell me about the Clans. The Dragoons have not been anywhere near the war zones so I presume that this is information you obtained through Wolf Net."

The leader of the Dragoons shook his head. "No. We have no more up to date information on the Clans than you do, your highness. My sources are older than that."

"Strange things come out of the periphery," noted Hanse with a piercing look in his blue eyes as he examined Wolf as if he had never seen him before. "Invaders... and almost fifty years ago, a small army of mercenaries. You've had dealings with the Clans before, out in the periphery."

"You could say that," Wolf said. "How much have Quintus Allard and his son managed to find out about our background over the years?"

"Nothing much. There has been some speculation, for obvious reasons, about Natasha Kerensky and General Kerensky's exodus from the Inner Sphere back before the Succession Wars, but none of your people from those days is talking. Besides, there really aren't all that many of your original warriors left after more than four decades."

"True enough," agreed Wolf with a grim expression. Among those who had perished were many good friends, and of course, his brother Joshua. "Well I suppose the place to start is with Natasha. She is, in fact, a direct descendent of Aleksandr Kerensky via his son Nicholas. As many people have speculated, Kerensky's followers established colonies out in the deep periphery."

"And they ran into the Clans?" Hanse asked.

Wolf shook his head. "No your highness. Those colonies became the Clans. The armies that are invading the Inner Sphere are the direct descendants of the old Star League Defense Force."

"What does that make the Dragoons?"

"We were sent here to assess your defenses," the mercenary admitted. "Wait!" he added as Hanse's face began to redden and not in a healthy fashion. "Not to undermine them, to strengthen them. There is a strong faction among the Clans that still believes that our mission is to defend the Inner Sphere, not to conquer it. When it became apparent that we weren't winning the debate over whether or not to launch an invasion, our leader Kerlin Ward played for time, offering to send a scout force to the Inner Sphere to provide them with information to help them plan the invasion. Instead he gave us secret orders to prepare you to face an invasion."

Hanse sat back in his chair. "Alright, for the sake of arguement say that I believe you, that you've been secretly working to build the various Successor States up defeat the Clans. I'm sorry to say that you don't seem to have made a great deal of progress. We're falling like a deck of cards."

"I know," Wolf told him. "Believe me, I know. To be honest, a number of my people didn't even think that it was possible for you to bounce back as far as you have from all the losses taken in the Fourth Succession War. You've all come much further than I think you realise, but the gulf between you and the Clans is not a small one and clearly they have advanced even further since we left. Natasha is trying to make contact with Clan Wolf, the Clan we and Kerlin Ward were originally affiliated with, but since they are in the forefront of the invasion, I'm not sure how many of her old allies will still be in a position to help."

"But I can tell you that we aren't going to stand aside any longer. We needed time to prepare and to explain all this to the warriors who joined us in the Inner Sphere - as well as to send an expedition out to a cache of equipment we couldn't bring into the Inner Sphere at first - it was too advanced. Well we have it now and we're embarking for the frontlines. I can't promise that we'll only operate in the Commonwealth - you aren't the only ones under attack - but we will co-ordinate with you. And if there's some where you think we can help... well, I'm listening."

 

Nadir Jump Point, Montmarault
Jade Falcon Occupation Zone
2 January 3051

Once again the Grand Council had gathered at the furthest point of advance by any of the invading clans, although this time due to the sparseness of worlds in this stretch of the corridor as well, perhaps, as a degree of competitiveness, the honour of playing hosts lay with Clan Jade Falcon.

"What nominations do we have for the post of ilKhan?" Elias Crichell asked formally.

Nikolai Djerassi stood. "Given how decisively she ordered us in our last gathering," he said coolly, "I nominate Virgilia Truscott. The Khan of the Star Adders has governed an invasion of unparalleled breadth over the last year and done so while herself being several hundred light years from her warriors. Clearly this will be a vital skill for our new ilKhan. The fact that she has also taken the opportunity to personally lead her Keshik in combat also weighs in her favour."

"Well put," Elias said. "Does anyone speak against the nomination."

He studied the lights that appeared in front of each of the Khans, noting which were requesting permission to speak and then raised one eyebrow in well-feigned surprise. This maneuver had been planned out in advance, almost two months ago. "Khan Truscott, you have the floor."

Virgilia nodded. "My fellow Khans... very few of you truly trust me. I am a wild card, unpredictable and already acting independently of the Council's preferences. Further, by apppointing me as the ilKhan you would be electing me to oversee your own attacks when they adhere to a plan that I have rejected. For these reasons I do not believe that I would be the best choice as ilKhan." She nodded to Elias. "I am not the most experienced of the Khans and I am not the only Khan to have made impressive gains during this invasion. Are we not gathered here at the foremost advance of all of us, a world taken by the Jade Falcons? Was it not Adler Malthus, commander of the Falcon Guards who was alone in successfully capturing the heir of one of the Scavenger Lords?"

Behind his own desk, Ulric stroked his beard. Virgilia was clearly making her own sales pitch for Elias Crichell. The senior Khan of Jade Falcons was more politican that warrior, no doubt he had plenty of other support in the chamber. Nikolai had neatly ensured that only a Khan from the invading clans would be elected. The Ghost Bear and Smoke Jaguar Khans were all relatively new to their roles due to casualties or simple demotion during the invasion and Roderick N'Buta was once again absent. That left the Wolves or the Jade Falcons. Ulric knew that the Crusaders would never elevate a Warden and Garth Radick did not command the necessary respect. That left Timur Malthus or Elias Crichell and if Timur was capable of unseating his senior Khan, he would have done so years ago. No, this vote could only go one way.

Elias at least had the patience to wait for his moment. "Thank you, Khan Truscott. Shall we call for a vote on this nomination?"

"Yes," Ulric said. "While Khan Truscott has made her position eloquently clear, she remains one of the foremost of all the Khans."

The only surprising thing about the vote that followed was how much support Khan Truscott had. Out of the thirty-three Khans present, only Ulric, Nikolai (who having nominated her could hardly back down now) and Khan Malavai Fletcher of Clan Hells Horse voted in favour of her election. The latter was a surprise - Ulric had only voted as he had because he was utterly certain that she couldn't win. Malavai was a hardcore Crusader and had been one of Leo Showers closer allies on the Grand Council until it became clear that the Hells Horses would not be participating in the invasion. With a sinking feeling, Ulric suspected that Malavai had realised what an unalloyed disaster for the Warden cause Virgilia would be as the ilKhan and was manuvering to align himself with her clan: given that she couldn't have won anyway, the fact that he voted against her preference would hardly be something to hold against him.

"I nominate Khan Elias Crichell of Clan Jade Falcon," Lincoln Osis rumbled reluctantly. The Smoke Jaguars had not covered themselves with glory in the same way as their fellow Crusaders, which meant that the burly Elemental didn't have the least chance of election. "I move that we vote without further debate."

The next vote was very nearly as lopsided as the last. No one became Khan without knowing how to read how a vote was likely to go and the only real alternative to Elias Crichell was to have no ilKhan at all. Virgilia abstained and Ulric voted against, as did the two Snow Raven Khans. No one else seemed inclined to break the consensus and the newly elected ilKhan requested a brief recess to allow the new Jade Falcon Khan to be called into the chamber. More specifically, Timur Malthus would be bumped up to senior Khan and another of Crichell's protege's, Vandervahn Chistu would take over Timur's previous role as main field commander of the Jade Falcon touman.

"Thank you for the confidence that you have shown in me," Crichell said once Chistu had taken his seat and the new ilKhan had occupied the chair that was now his own. "I believe that the first step that we must now take is to ensure that my vision of how the invasion should proceed is in accordance with the will of the Grand Council. While in general our progress has been good, it has been somewhat slower than anticipated and I feel that it would be wise to activate one of our reserve clans."

"As none of us will wish to share our invasion corridors and Clan Star Adder has claimed the outer regions of the Lyran Commonwealth for their own, it is my intention that Clan Steel Viper attack into the outer regions of the Draconis Combine, near its border with the Outworlds Alliance. Are there any objections to this plan of action?"

Ian Hawker of the Diamond Sharks looked like he wanted to speak but thankfully refrained. Ulric shook his head. That explained the Steel Viper's support for Crichell despite the general antipathy between their two Clans. It would also do quite a bit of damage to the garrison arrangements of the Ghost Bears, who had been contracting several of their garrison posts to the Steel Vipers, but they couldn't protest on that basis because it would be a sign of weakness.

"I support this measure," Virgilia said pleasently. "Such an attack will divert the resources of the Combine and allow Clan Smoke Jaguar to recoup some of their recent reverses. It will also reduce the number of troops that the Federated Suns can redeploy to defend the Lyran Commonwealth as such an attack will be close to their own borders."

And that settled that. No one wanted to argue with the Star Adders until they had a better feel for their capabilities. The Coyotes had shared some reports of their disasterous attack on Dagda and if those were merely the secondline forces not deemed fit for the invasion...

Ulric Kerensky and Virgilia Truscott glared untrustingly across the Council Chamber at each other.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.