Chapter 1

Honolulu

Terra, Star League

15 February 3076

He had been sitting at his desk for over 17 hours, pouring over reports and planning.

"It seems all I can do is plan." He said to the model of a Catapult that sat on the corner of his desk.

"I am sick and tired of planning!" he cried. One would think that being here in the heart of paradise would make a man happy but the past two years had been frustrating for Cain.

As the third Commander of Cain's Cavaliers, Christopher Cain was supposed to be a great leader, who inherited an even greater unit. Unfortunately, hard times had come to the Cavaliers and to Cain. His father died fighting against Clan Steel Viper and Cain had to be cut from the wreckage of his Banshee. He left the lower part of his right leg in the remains of his war machine. Three of the Cavalier's four battalions were destroyed and the fourth mauled so badly that most of the 'mechs were write-offs.

Christopher spent nearly a year in the hospital on Terra going through physical therapy and getting used to his new bionic leg. When he was finally released from the hospital he started planning the return of Cain's Cavaliers.

Due to his father's and grandfather's foresight, insurance policies had been taken out on the entire unit's equipment, but money could not replace the lives lost. So with a settlement of nearly 100 million C-Bills and the assistance of his two closest friends, his bodyguard, and his father's senior advisor, Cain began the arduous task of rebuilding the Cavaliers.

"Time to knock off for the night, Boss" Webb Baxter, the unit's Executive Officer, said. "Me and all the troops are going down to the Beach Cafe to have a beer and I think you need to go with."

"Webb, I appreciate the offer but we have training tomorrow and we lift in three days. Our ammo hasn't arrived and I just secured out transport. The Warhorse's number two engine is having issues and the Techs still are working on that glitch in the fire control system on my ride." Cain was tired and the strain was starting to show in his voice.

Command Sergeant Major Templar came in just then and asked, "Chris has anyone died today? Go drink a beer and then get some rest so when I whip your ass in the simulators tomorrow you can't blame it on 'stress'." A cloud crossed Cain's face but quickly cleared.

"You know Sergeant Major, you're right about one thing; I do need a bit of R and R, but we'll see who kicks whose ass tomorrow." With a laugh, Cain powered down his data pad, straightened up his papers and stretched. Then the model of the Catapult caught his eye again.

"You two go ahead I'll be along in a sec. Oh, and Webb, let Master Sergeant Meridius know where we're going."

As the other men left his office, Cain sat down again and looked at the tiny egg-shaped model. It was a gift from his father, given to him the day he graduated from the Nagelring. Cast from a plate of armor off his Grandfather's Catapult, it was the only personal item Cain kept in his office. Christopher was raised to believe there were three values that separated men from animals and warriors from bandits. These values; honor, integrity, and loyalty, were inscribed on the base of the Catapult.

"I promise I'll bring the Cavaliers back, Dad." Cain whispered to the little statue.