AUTHOR'S NOTES: Chapter 2. This one has a bit of everything: mission planning, history, humor, angst, tech talk, a LAM, new characters, and even some sex. The one thing it doesn't have is a 'Mech fight; the big 'Mech battle happens in the next chapter. I actually don't know if the Battlemaster has a second seat, but in all the pictures I've seen of it, it does. So there.

Because this story arc is pretty tense, and I've felt the need to write some comedy lately, I'm writing a story concurrently with this one over in the Inu-Yasha section. The manga just ended a little over a week ago, and inspiration has struck. So if you're interested in that sort of thing, it's called "Down the Well." (Even if you don't like Inu-Yasha, there's going to be a little bit of Ah My Goddess! and Love Hina in there as well.)

REVIEWER'S CORNER:

Flashpoint: Thanks for the science. That's not my strong suit by any means, so it's appreciated. The confrontation between Phelan and Sheila will be strictly from a distance, and yes, Sheila doesn't have much time for Phelan Kell/Wolf. From her POV, he was a loser at the Nagelring and now he's a traitor. Someday she may change her opinion, but no time soon.

Mosin: Thanks. Clan politics is always fun to write about.

Rouge: No, I didn't know that, but that's kewl. (I really haven't had time to read other fanfics, as I've been too busy writing mine and working—but I do need to get back to reading your stuff and Kat Wylder's.) And please do post your "response picture." I'm a little scared now…

Jason: Thank you. The nice thing about writing Phelan and Ulric is that I have plenty of stuff to base their personalities on. The Jade Falcons have other things on their minds at the moment—though rest assured, Cavell Malthus is still out there and even more pissed off at Calla and Sheila—but the Wolves are in a real quandary, as Phelan mentioned. On one hand, they can't just let the Snowbirds raid unopposed, but on the other, Ulric would be all too happy to see them show up the Crusaders. If the Snowbirds were raiding the Jade Falcons, then Ulric and Phelan would be cheering them on, but they're hitting the Wolves instead…Sheila, essentially, doesn't know what she's doing on a political level.

4477: "Blood Upon the Risers" was always a gallows humor song anyway. I actually do have the lyrics; they're in GURPS Special Ops, if you're interested.

SulliMike: In a word: yep.

FraserMage: I kind of figured you would. As a reward, you get a mention in this story! (Well, not really…I was going to give you a mention anyway, but it sounds good.) As for a time skip, probably not anytime soon. I intend to end the Snowbird stories with an epilogue that says what happens to everyone, but there will be room if I want to write more…though I really should be concentrating on writing stuff I can actually publish and make money off of!

MUSIC CORNER: "Battle Without Honor or Humanity" by Tomoyasu Hotei from the Kill Bill soundtrack, "The Kiss" from The Last of the Mohicans, and "The Final Countdown" by Europe.

Mount Brecon

New Caledonia, Clan Wolf Occupied Zone

25 November 3051

Max Canis-Vlata stopped to catch his breath for a moment. It was a hard slope on the foothills of Mount Brecon, which rose majestically into the gray clouds far above his head, and they were already a good thousand meters above the valley floor. Once he got his air back, he finished the climb and came onto a small shelf. The view around them was impressive, but he had eyes only for the woman in front of him.

Sheila Arla-Vlata stood with her arms folded across her breasts, one leg in front of the other. Her sinous body was hidden under thick winter clothing; her black hair disappeared into the fur-lined collar that ruffled with the slight breeze. Max regarded her for a moment. She looked out over the Snowbirds' encampment below, looking every inch the battalion commander. Her expression was intense, and her green eyes flicked back and forth. Among her other talents, Max knew that Sheila had acquired an eye for ground, something all good military commanders had. It meant being able to look at terrain and realize how to fight in it: how a finger ridge from a mountain provided an easy way to the top; how a fold in a prairie was a good spot to hide or a good spot for an ambush; how a fast-moving, narrow river provided more of a barrier to fording 'Mechs than a slow-moving wide one; how a reverse slope of a hill could provide cover from enemy artillery. Sheila was checking the ground, looking for weak spots in her defense. Then those eyes went over to him, and they lost some of their hardness.

"What are you looking at?" she asked with a small smile.

"You." Max came up to her and hugged her to him, putting his chin atop her head. "You're beautiful."

"I don't feel beautiful…I need a shower and eight hours of sleep."

"You can get both."

Sheila snorted. "Oh yeah, a pedal-powered camp shower with water heated by a fire, and a nap on the ground or in my ejection seat."

"You found a home in the army. My Battlemaster can fit two, if you fold down the jumpseat." He kissed her hair. "And if they're very friendly."

She turned, drew him down to her, and gave him a very deep kiss. "That sounds like fun, but it's going to have to wait." She pointed out, into the valley. "I think the Wolves might be rude enough to interrupt."

"Oh…them." In the far distance was a dust cloud. It was barely a smudge against the distant mountains across the deep glacial valley, but beneath that smudge was a Clan Wolf Cluster, more than enough power to plow the Snowbirds under. They were still at least eight hours off, but the air was heavy with menace.

Max thought that, all things considered, Operation Rubicon had been a great success to this point. The raids on Mozrije, Kirchbach, and Maxie's Planet had gone exceptionally well. In all three cases, they had caught the Clans by surprise, and only on Kirchbach had they faced an opponent that outgunned and outnumbered them. The garrison on Mozrije had been ridiculously small for the amount of supplies they had guarded, and while Maxie's Planet had been better defended, it was still with second-line 'Mechs in numbers the Snowbirds had easily handled. To everyone's amazement, the Snowbirds had not suffered a single death, and even the wounds had been minor. Originally, Sheila had anticipated as much as ten percent losses by the time they attacked the Jade Falcon garrison on Maxie's Planet, which she hoped to make good with the survivors of the planetary militia, led by a retired major, Hans Remcke. As it turned out, they hadn't needed replacements except for the three 'Mechs the Snowbirds had lost on Kirchbach; Remcke's exhausted remnant had been put on the now empty supply DropShip Aspen and sent back on a small JumpShip the AFFC had sent to meet the Snowbirds, while his 'Mechs, now repaired and even repainted, were serving with the Snowbirds. On all three planets, the Snowbirds had been welcomed as liberators, and if the fervor died a little when Sheila informed them that they weren't at the head of a liberating regiment, the people still helped everywhere they could. The armament workers on Kirchbach had been all too happy to destroy their own equipment, knowing they could safely blame it on the Snowbirds, even though it meant that they would be put out of work. There had been no reason to think that New Caledonia would be any different.

Yet someone in the Clan Wolf high command had somehow deduced the Snowbirds' next target. The drop had gone well enough, and the Snowbirds had advanced unopposed on the main city of Redfev. On the outskirts, however, there had been no cheering crowds, no sudden outbreak of Federated Commonwealth or Free Rasalhague flags. Sheila had suspected something and halted the battalion. Her fears were confirmed when an elderly gentleman wearing the uniform of the old Tyr Regiment came to her 'Mech and told her that the Wolves were hidden in the city. Sheila had immediately pulled the Snowbirds back, which confused the Wolf commander enough that he only sent out probes. Neither side had lost anything in the skirmishes that followed, but the Snowbirds now knew their enemy: the 11th Wolf Guards. It was their worst fears realized: the Snowbirds had nowhere near the strength or firepower to face a frontline Clan Cluster.

So the Snowbirds had retreated, though Sheila was not quite willing to give up: if she could give the Wolf Guards the slip, she might could pull off an end run, strike New Caledonia's supply bases, and get offworld before the bigger unit could react. Her opposite number, Star Colonel John Ward, was no novice. He kept hold of the Snowbirds. He was careful not to allow his faster machines—medium scouts like the Fenris and something the Snowbirds had dubbed the Pouncer—outrun his larger Mad Cats and Men O'War and get suckered into ambushes, though the Snowbirds had set a few. He had also used his aerospace fighters to continuously keep an eye on the mercenaries, orbiting out of reach. The Wolves had tried an airstrike and paid the price: the Snowbirds had ten of their own Aerofighters and could put up a murderous curtain of antiaircraft fire. The Clans had also learned that genetic engineering was no substitute for combat experience. It was now a game of cat and mouse that had lasted six exhausting days. Sheila kept trying to break contact long enough to call down the DropShips and retreat off New Caledonia, while Ward kept trying to find a way to isolate a part of the Snowbirds or bring them to battle. Neither was able to get the better of the other, even as both units entered a valley with high mountains on either side, barren and dry in the middle, that the locals called the Scampton Rift. The 11th Wolf Guards, in unfamiliar terrain, had slowed as they came to the southern end of the valley, a narrow pass known as Kumla Gap, expecting an ambush. But Sheila had not stopped, and she had gained a precious seven-hour lead on Ward—only to get a message from the Back of Beyond's captain that he had been forced to hide the DropShips on the opposite side of New Caledonia, as several Wolf ships had been detected coming insystem. While Captain McKay was sure he could still extract the Snowbirds within 24 hours, Sheila had a sinking feeling that the arrival of more Wolf DropShips could only mean that there was another unit coming to New Caledonia. Ward's leisurely pace since dawn only made it more likely that the game was no longer cat and mouse, but hounds chasing a hare to the hunters.

Sheila opened her mouth to say something more, but it was drowned out by the sound of ramjets. They both ducked instinctively as an ungainly looking craft came out of the narrow valley to their right, smoking and on fire. Despite the obvious damage, the pilot brought the aircraft to a hover, and inexplicably the rear of the aircraft seemed to separate and swing down into legs, even as arms popped out of the sides. It settled to the ground hard, but techs wielding fire extinguishers were already spraying foam and dousing the fire. The strange hybrid was a Phoenix Hawk LAM, one of the rare Land-Air 'Mechs that had been an attempt to combine the mobility of an aerospace fighter with the firepower of a 'Mech. It could do neither job well but existed because it could do either at all. LAMs were literally worth their weight in gold, and it had been pure luck that Remcke's militia somehow possessed one—or that Ariel Munroe was a qualified pilot as well as MechWarrior. Since she had lost her own Phoenix Hawk on Kirchbach, she had quickly been elected to pilot it.

"Looks like Ariel found something," Max sighed, "and it wasn't friendly."

By the time Max and Sheila got back to the camp, the precious data that Munroe had risked her life to get was downloaded from her battle computer, transferred to a laptop, and printed out in living color. Sheila had taken one glance at them and called an immediate meeting of the Snowbirds' principal commanders. Eating a quick and cold dinner, Sheila regarded each as they filed in.

Not surprisingly, Senefa Malthus was first. Though she only held the rank of lance commander while the others were majors, Senefa had become Sheila's right hand as much as Max. The former Clan warrior had been a wellspring of knowledge and wisdom, supernaturally calm in battle and exceedingly deadly. Senefa was as tall as Sheila and even bore enough of a resemblance to her former enemy that they had been mistaken as sisters, but Senefa moved with a sinous grace that Sheila could never hope to emulate. For Senefa, the one thing that had marred Rubicon so far was not finding a full Cluster of Wolves waiting on New Caledonia, but Tooriu Kku breaking the rules in a Trial of Possession by opening fire when he was not involved. She smiled at Sheila and Max and sat down in a camp stool. She wore her duty uniform; the cold didn't seem to touch her.

Not far behind Senefa was David Moore, the sole tanker. A man of noble birth among mongrel mercenaries, Moore had been a pleasant surprise. Despite commanding a conglomeration of fast hovertanks, slow main battle tanks, and self-propelled artillery, he had mastered the difficult job and wielded each part of his company brillantly. The Choyer Garrison Elemental unit on Kirchbach had learned the hard way that Snowbird tanks were not easy targets. He apologized quietly to Sheila about his greasy coveralls and took a seat next to Senefa.

Elfa Brownoak and Marion Rhialla, Sheila's remaining majors, arrived together, as they so often did. Marion was the oldest MechWarrior in the battalion, and Elfa not far behind. Marion's fatigues were spotless; how the woman managed it was a mystery to the Snowbirds in general. She took up a position, standing, at the entrance of the tent. Marion, for her part, eased into an inflatable chair, her fatigues as dirty as everyone else's and the bottom three buttons left open. Sheila had been infuriated when she had learned Elfa was pregnant, especially since the older woman had not informed Sheila of that fact until they had reached Mozrije—knowing full well that she would've been left behind on Sudeten. Their relationship had been cooly professional after that; Elfa was Sheila's second-in-command and they still worked together, but there was none of the warmth that had been between them before. Now five months along, Elfa had long since started to show. She wasn't due until March and would be able to pilot a 'Mech safely until January, but Sheila was still angry.

The last three to arrive came in at the same time, leading to a semi-comical moment where they all attempted to squeeze through the tent's entrance. Because she was smallest, Virginia "Nessie" Lossiemouth got through first. She was only five foot four, just at the minimum height for an aerospace fighter pilot to see over the instrument panel. Lossiemouth led the small Snowbirds fighter contingent, and since none of the other planets had air cover to speak of, she was probably the only one enjoying herself. Though making Major just before leaving Sudeten, she already had eight kills and had added five more since the Snowbirds had arrived on New Caledonia. She had been a protégé of the late Elizabeth Dowlings, the Sentinels' regimental air commander, and hailed from Northwind, just like her mentor. She slapped the man behind her on the chest, laughed, and sat on the ground, her black flight suit in direct contrast to the gray fatigues worn by the others.

Behind Lossiemouth and smiling at her, Robert Copeland took a seat. Like Senefa, he was only a lance commander, but he was the liasion officer to the Snowbirds; Copeland was not a mercenary, but a serving officer with the regular AFFC. Sheila had worried about Copeland before the operation began. He had made a bad first impression on Sheila and the Snowbirds, and made the mistake of trying to repair it by a glad-handing approach that only made the battalion feel patronized. Since leaving Sudeten, however, Copeland had found his groove, performed well in the field, and was slowly winning the trust of the Snowbirds.

Last and certainly not least was Nicia Caii. Nearly seven feet tall, Nicia towered over everyone in the room, and her one-piece tech coveralls were filthier than everyone's with grease, lubricants, dirt, and every other substance to be found around BattleMechs and tanks. Sheila knew Nicia had to be miserable: New Caledonia was half a G higher than Terran standard, and Nicia came from a low-gravity world. The extra weight being placed on her delicate bone structure was actually painful, but Nicia still did her duty and did it very well. The regimental Master Tech, she had no business being out with the Snowbirds on Rubicon, but had managed to convince Sheila's father, Calla, to let her go along. The logical reason was that the Snowbirds had upgraded their 'Mechs on Sudeten and even had four precious captured Clan OmniMechs, and Nicia was the best tech in the regiment. The real reason was that Nicia was tired of watching her 'Mechs—as far as she was concerned, MechWarriors merely borrowed them—go out and get shot up, then come stumbling back to be repaired, if they could walk at all. Nicia wanted to be in the field, and for her, Rubicon was her one shot at adventure. In a brutal, twenty-hour a day schedule that broke even the toughest of MechWarriors, Nicia thrived, though Sheila could see by the dark circles under her eyes that even the indomitable Master Tech desperately needed a break.

Sheila let the chatter go for a short time, then stood up and moved her chair to the center of the tent, where there was a small table. Silence instantly reigned. Without speaking, Sheila put the photos on the table, and everyone peered at them. "There's no easy way to say this," Sheila spoke, "but there it is, in living color. We're surrounded." The photos showed the better part of a Clan Cluster—this time, to the east of the Snowbirds.

Marion spat a foul curse. Elfa asked resignedly, "Who are they?"

"Captain McKay picked up a little radio chatter when they came insystem. You're looking at the 352nd Assault Cluster of Clan Wolf," Sheila answered.

"Jesus," Moore said. "What are they doing here? I mean, besides the obvious."

"All I can guess is that either Star Colonel Ward called for help, which I doubt, or that whoever the CO of the 352nd is, he heard about Ward fighting us here and came of his own volition, maybe to try and steal Ward's victory away."

"That makes sense," Senefa put in. "I know the commander of the 352nd. His name is Erik Kerensky. He grew up in the same sibko as the ilKhan of the Clans, Ulric Kerensky. They call Erik the 'Khan's Shadow.' Despite that, they do not like each other."

"How do you know all that?" Copeland asked, his voice full of suspicion. Finding a Clan Wolf Cluster waiting for them on New Caledonia had started all kind of rumors that someone had betrayed the Snowbirds.

"Because I defeated him once in a Trial of Grievance." Senefa paused. "He does not like me, either."

"Can't say as I'm fond of the son of a bitch myself," Elfa said, with a nasty look at Copeland. Many of the newer Snowbirds suspected Senefa was the one who was betraying them; the old heads knew of the hatred between the Jade Falcons and the Wolves and knew that, if Senefa was going to betray the Snowbirds, the last Clan she'd do it to was the Wolves. She reached over and unrolled a laminated map. "According to the photos, the aforementioned SOB is forming up his units right here." Her finger stabbed at an open plain beyond Mount Brecon. Called the Fraser Flats, it was a high mountain plain, just right for a DropShip landing zone; it had been Sheila's target. Now the Wolves were there first. "So let me sketch this out, just for the mental exercise. He forms up a cordon right here—" she traced where the mountains trailed down to the flats "—waits for us to come out here, and blows us away one lance at a time. If we don't take the bait, either he stays put and waits for Ward's 11th Guards to take us apart, or they hit us at the same time." Elfa leaned back. "To put it frankly, we're screwed."

"Not necessarily," Moore told her. "Senefa, do you know if Ward and Kerensky don't like each other much either?"

"John Ward is a Warden. Erik Kerensky is a Crusader. I would say that is a logical conclusion, Major."

"Then I say we can fight it out right here." Moore pointed at the ground. "We're in a pretty good position. The Clanners are going to have to come at us uphill. All we've gotta do is hold until the DropShips can get in here, right? That's what, about 20 hours from now? It'll take the 11th Guards at least seven or eight hours just to get in a position to attack. I think we can hold them."

"Except that they outnumber us two to one and outgun us about five to one," Copeland muttered.

"Were you planning on just surrendering, then?" Marion snarled.

Copeland couldn't meet her gaze, but he didn't give ground, either. "No, Miss Rhialla. I'm saying that we go over the mountains! I mean, look at the photos. I don't think this Kerensky bastard has a full Cluster here. If we can get him before he's good and deployed, we might have a shot at it!"

"Look at the fucking map!" Marion shouted. "Look at the goddamn mountains! That's glaciers up there, Bob."

"So?"

"And so! There's crevasses. There's snowdrifts so high that you can lose a Battlemaster in one. There's high winds that'll knock over an assault 'Mech. And, in case you haven't been paying attention to the fucking sky, there's a storm moving in! Even assuming we don't lose half the battalion, it would take us about two or three days to cross them. That's plenty of time for Mr. Kerensky to simply wait on whoever crawls down!"

Copeland wasn't ready to give up. "I know the weather's closing in. We might could slip past in a blizzard."

"Nae bloody likely." Lossiemouth's brogue was as thick as Dowlings'. "The Wolves can track ye with infrared from tae air. 'Mechs'll stand oot like a hoor in church agin' snow. Besides, the weather isnae supposed tae be verra bad. Nae blizzards—just a loot o' fog and some rain. Enough tae make it miserable an' damn weel dangerous for us fighter pilots in this damned moontains, but nae enough tae ground anyone."

"Besides, there's no way the tanks could make it through," Moore added. "'Mechs can always jump a crevasse or detour around a snowfield. One of my 80-ton Ontos would just fall right through."

"I have a better idea." Sheila smiled at them, balancing her chin on her hands. She had let them talk, because she wasn't sure her idea was the best. "Erik Kerensky wants to take John Ward's kill away from him? I say, let's oblige the man, since he came so far. Max, if you please…"

He handed her a clear overlay, which she set aside for the moment. "All right. There is a road through the mountains. It's narrow, but it's reinforced for 'Mech use; the Rasalhagians rebuilt it a few years ago." She pointed to the red trace that went south from their encampment, wandered erratically through the mountains, and came out onto the flats.

Elfa raised a hand. "Sheila, not to rain on your parade so soon, but that road goes through a tunnel. Yeah, the tunnel was widened and raised for 'Mechs, but I'll give you two guesses who's camping out at the east portal."

"Very true, Elfa, but let me finish." Sheila's fingers moved north from the road. "On the other side from Mount Brecon is an open-pit copper mine, one of the largest in the FRR. It's played out and abandoned, and only this little dirt road still connects it with the main road." The dirt road was a thin black stripe on the map, much straighter than the main road to the south, except where it climbed down from the mountains to where the Snowbirds were encamped, where it looked like a group of snakes. "Follow me so far?"

"Not really," Moore admitted. "The main road would be no problem, except that Major Brownoak is right, and that's where the Clans are waiting for us. I'm sure the 'Mechs could negotiate that dirt road, but not my tanks."

"The road has its own dangers," Senefa said. She pointed at the high ridges above the valley. "Sheila, that road would be barely wide enough for three 'Mechs, if that, and moreover, given the weather we have been having, I would say that it would be extremely prone to avalanches. And even if we reached the mine…" Senefa's hand splayed across the heavily glaciated expanse between the mine and the flats. "We would face the problems Marion mentioned."

"You're both right. But…" Sheila set the overlay across the map. It added new features to it, enough that there were exclamations around the table. "Remember that town we passed through the other day? Right after we went through the Gap? It reminded me of something that we talked about in the briefing on Sudeten: the Tyr underground was very active here. So I made a stop at the local hiking shop, made a few inquiries—I figured on finding some good ambush spots—and they told me about Mount Brecon, and they made this overlay for me. It seems that the Tyr made use of Mount Brecon as a hideout when Kurita ruled New Caledonia, and there's a lot of stuff that's not on the regular map."

Sheila ran her finger along a series of parallel lines. "The really cool stuff is right here—on the other side of the mine. Before they switched to open pit, the copper miners drove shafts into the mountains, following ore veins, during the early Star League period. They started out with hyrdraulic mining, but they switched to mining 'Mechs later on. These tunnels are wide enough for 'Mechs. In fact, to better facilitate getting ore out of the pit, they dug a big tunnel straight from the pit to Fraser Flat. The Wolves have their DropShips sited right on an old landing pad, where the ore was offloaded to ships heading offplanet for processing. The tunnel entrance heading out on Fraser Flat was covered over when the mine closed to keep people from getting in, and even landscaped to please the local environmentalists—but the tunnel is still there! The Tyr used it to hide from Kurita—they even hid stolen 'Mechs in the tunnel and the outlying shafts."

"If the tunnel was closed off on either end," Nicia asked, speaking for the first time, "then how did the Tyr get anything in at all?"

Sheila pointed to the mine. "There's a huge ferrocrete door here. By the time the Tyr used the mine, it had been half-buried in a rockslide and assumed to be unusable. Kurita never found out the Tyr repaired it and got into the mine that way. Every time Kurita flew aircraft over the mine area to look for Tyr resistance fighters, they simply closed the door. Even if Kurita found the western door, they scraped away enough of the earth inside the tunnel to making blowing open the eastern portal fairly easy."

"The perfect hiding place," Senefa observed. "Still, something does not seem right…are we sure of the story?"

"I've been talking to the locals all the way up the valley," Sheila smiled. "It's true."

"How come they never updated the maps?" Copeland asked.

"Paranoia," Moore answered. "The Rasalhagians were never sure that either the FedCom or Kurita might gobble them up again. They left the maps unmarked so an invader would never know." He shook his head. "That's some wild stuff—but why didn't the 2nd Drakons use Mount Brecon when the Wolves invaded a year ago?"

"They didn't have time," Elfa said. "The Drakons never got past the Kumla Gap before they packed it in and retreated offworld." She clapped her hands in excitement. "This is perfect, Sheila! We can split the Snowbirds. One half goes down the road, the other goes over the mountains. Kerensky is expecting us to come through the tunnel, so he orients himself facing that direction…"

"…and the other half goes through the tunnel, blows a hole where the mine is sealed up on the eastern end, and hits him squarely in the rear," Marion finished. She grinned savagely. "Hot damn. We hold him by the nose and kick him in the ass."

"I hate to keep sounding like the voice of doom," Copeland said, "but won't the Wolves be able to track us, like Major Lossiemouth said?"

"Yes—on the road," Sheila replied. "The dirt road goes through a lot of forest, but it's mostly level ground, once we get to the crest of the ridge. We make our way down into the pit and get into the tunnel. By the time the Wolves start sweeping the area north of the road, assuming they even think about doing so, we'll be underground."

"Okay. How do we get into the tunnel?"

"There's a camouflaged control station to the north of the door. It's been sealed off. We break in, open the door, close it from the other side, we're good."

Moore was looking closely at the map. "Well, solves that problem. I wish I felt better about taking the tanks on this road, though. We'll be dinner for any enterprising Clan aerospace pilot. Even with all the flak we can put up."

"The weather'll cover ye," Lossiemouth assured him. "Nae Clanner pilot's gonna come doon that valley if'n he can help it wi' all the ground fog they're predictin'. Mayhap some recon—but we want 'em to kin we're comin' doon the road, yeah?"

"Fair enough." Moore rubbed his bristled chin; he hadn't shaved in a few days. "It's still going to be awfully slow going."

"You got something better?" Marion demanded. "I don't like your 'let's fight here' idea."

"I'm not enamored of it myself." That brought a few chuckles around the table. "But given how slow some of my tanks are, it may be a case where the northern force holds the Wolves by the nose while we in the tanks kick them in the ass."

"Fine with me," Sheila smiled. "I'd hate to have a couple of Ontos and a Von Luckner coming up on my rear arc. Besides, you'll have plenty of 'Mech support."

"Actually, if you don't mind me saying so, I think you'd better not assign me more than a lance or two." Moore shrugged at the raised eyebrows. "We're going to be strung out as it is, and we're going to have to go slow. We have two companies on that road, and there's a good chance that the 11th Guards will be nipping at us from behind while we're trying to break through on the front. And they'd better not be assaults, either. I'm sure the Rasalhagians put avalanche barriers above the road—" Senefa nodded; she hadn't thought of that "—but you get 100-tonners on that road, and all that snow is gonna drop right on top of us. So we'd better just have some mediums along, just enough to break through if we run into trouble—like I said, just a lance or two."

"He's right." Max spoke up; he had been silent to this point. "Besides, we can't deploy more than a lance across the road anyway, especially in the tunnel. The rest would just be sitting there, milling around."

Moore suddenly grinned. "The good news is, I can use my artillery to cause avalanches behind us. That would slow the Wolves down a bit."

"One more thing," Sheila said, looking at Lossiemouth. "No air cover. You're operating from that stretch of road right now, Nessie, but there's no straight stretches between here and the flats. I want you to give us an hour worth of cover, then hightail it up the gravity well and rendezvous with the DropShips. Do you have enough reaction mass for that?" Unlike 'Mechs and fusion-powered tanks, aerofighters actually expended fuel for their speed.

"Aye. Just enough. I nae like it, though."

"If things go according to plan, you'll have just enough time to refuel and rearm before you cover the DropShips on the burn-in. You'll have a chance at more kills."

"Oh, that's just grand, then." Lossiemouth was happy again.

"Geez. I still hate the idea of dividing our force against a superior foe. I don't have any better ideas," Copeland hastened to add, "but it still goes against everything we learned at Sanglamore, Commander."

Sheila's smile remained. "Bob, have you ever heard of a battle called Chancellorsville?"

"I'm afraid not."

"American Civil War, 1863. Robert E. Lee, the Confederate commander, was surprised by a superior Union force striking behind him, while a strong force still faced his front. Luckily, one of his commanders, Thomas 'Stonewall' Jackson, found out there was a road the Union didn't know about that led squarely to the Union right flank—which was in the air."

"Sound familiar?" Marion laughed.

"Yeah." Copeland rapped his knuckles on the map. "So what happened? I take it Lee won."

"He did. His Union opponent, Hooker, was sure that Lee wouldn't dare attack, since he would have to split his force in front of an opponent that outnumbered and outgunned him. Lee was on sound defensive ground; why attack at all? When Jackson attacked and routed his right flank, Hooker panicked. Even though his troops managed to rally, he withdrew back across the river and his offensive was over. It's considered Lee's greatest victory, and he did it against long odds." Sheila didn't feel like mentioning that Chancellorsville had been followed by Lee's greatest defeat, Gettysburg, and that Jackson had been killed in the battle.

"Well, like I said, I don't have any better ideas. I say we go for it," Copeland said.

"I concur," Elfa added.

"Anyone against?" No one was, so Sheila got to her feet. "Well, let's be at it, ladies and gentlemen. We've got a lot to do and not much time."

It took only an hour or so. Sheila was amazed at how easy it was. None of the Snowbirds were green now; they were all veterans to one extent or another. Even the least experienced MechWarrior among them, Kahvi Falx, could now strike camp and prepare her Dragon for moving with the best of them. Sheila had worried about Kahvi, but so far the quiet Kuritan had shown a lot of promise.

Sheila was also amazed at how quickly she ran out of things to do. She issued the orders to Elfa, David Moore, and Marion, and they were then passed on to the various lance commanders and platoon leaders, on down to the lowliest MechWarrior and tank crew or infantry private. Though Sheila moved among the Snowbirds, offering encouragement here and exchanging a joke there, they did not need her looking over their shoulders. She openly discussed her plan with her troops if they asked, but most did not. They trusted their officers and they trusted her. Their quiet acceptance was the best compliment Sheila had ever received.

Now all the Snowbirds had to do was wait for nightfall and the weather to sweep over them. The Wolves certainly knew the Snowbirds were aware of the 352nd Assault Cluster's presence after having seen and shot at Ariel Munroe's LAM. Evidently, John Ward and the 11th Wolf Guards were satisfied with leaving the Snowbirds' destruction to the 352nd, since they had advanced to within six hours of the Snowbirds' position and halted for the night. While infrared and other detection systems would betray the Snowbirds moving out even in darkness and bad weather, Sheila was hoping that the Wolves would look south on the main road and see what they wanted to see. Either way, everyone on New Caledonia seemed to be simply waiting on someone else making the first move, and the Snowbirds had a chance to catch up on and store up rest for the big push ahead.

While Max had shadowed Sheila on much of her walk around the camp, he had left her early to check up on his Battlemaster. Now finished and with nothing really to do, Sheila told Elfa that she would be getting some sleep and wandered over to where the Command Lance was laagered. When Elfa saw that she was heading to Max's Battlemaster and not her own Shruiken, she smirked and remarked that she doubted Sheila was going to be doing much in the way of resting. Someone else laughed and said they were going to get their holorecorder, and show the Inner Sphere what Commander Arla-Vlata was really like. They were shushed down, because Sheila and Max were far from the only couple thinking along those lines, and all were aware that this might be their last night alive.

For some, that meant quietly contemplating their lives. David Moore leaned against his Pegasus and wrote a letter to his parents; he had written every day, even though the letters could not be sent until they reached friendly space again, but it was a useful way for him to focus his mind. Kaatha stared at the stars from the cockpit of her Griffin, hoping the painkillers would start working and that no one was noticing her increasing frailty, wondering if she should seek out her daughter, and deciding for the hundredth time that now was not the time, that Felisanna was either among one of the groups laughing around a campfire or seeking pleasure in another's arms. Nisa Kinosh polished her naginata and wondered if she'd ever get her chance to prove herself to Commander Arla-Vlata. Senefa Malthus actually slept in her Thunderbolt, having long since made peace with herself and her world, and awaited only the order to attack.

For others, that meant seeking out their friends, sitting around the campfire for warmth, and either telling tall tales or simply enjoying each other's presence. Shasti Buena played her fiddle and sang, as she had done every night of the operation since they had left Sudeten, and Felisanna, Tooriu and Bien danced around the fire with others. Marion Rhialla and Elfa had found partners in crime with Jacqueline Shaw and Glynnis Griffin, and formed the Snowbirds Branch of the Old Hag Society. They talked about battles and old friends, some long dead, some very much alive. Fianna Cassidy, Jackson Dinson, and Dennis Dorinson, along with their crews, played poker, which soon erupted in Gaelic accusations of cheating and a brawl between Cassidy and Dorinson, which the others promptly began to bet on.

For still others, it was a time for prayer: Maysa Bari led Dan Polycutt and five others in the rosary; Ariel Munroe and the Drakon twins passed around a Bible and discussed verses; Kahvi Falx spun a Buddhist prayer wheel with Marcus Drax, who was an agnostic and didn't even speak Japanese, but felt the need for some sort of spiritual comfort.

And some, like Sheila and Max, sought out lovers, wives, and husbands. Chuck Badaxe and Maria Thyatis gave up on attempting lovemaking in the head of an Atlas, which was surprisingly cramped for being the biggest 'Mech in the Snowbirds, and instead just talked. Philip Scott and Tessya Blackthorn took some blankets, wandered into the woods, and frantically consummated a long courtship. No such long courtship existed between Mimi Stykkis and Troms Fiordur; they simply found an empty tent and went to work. Two tents away, Cecilia Masterson and Kassy Holliday were already on their second round.

Sheila and Max said nothing to each other. She followed him up the ladder to the Battlemaster's cockpit, where Max folded down the rear seat. Once she had settled herself down, he closed the canopy and polarized it, just in case. Getting out of their clothes in a space barely five feet long and three feet wide was not easy, but with much laughing and occasional cursing as elbows struck protrusions or knees went into stomachs, they managed. Though the temptation was to hurry and get things done quickly—after all, the radio might crackle with the alert of a Clan airstrike or surprise attack at any time—Sheila and Max took their time loving each other. When it was over, Sheila snuggled up against Max as he pulled the covers over her. "You okay?" he whispered.

"More than okay," Sheila murmured happily in the afterglow. "I think I bumped my head on the canopy bow a few times. You don't have to be so, um, enthusiastic."

"You didn't have to be on top," Max grinned.

Sheila yawned. "Rank has its privledges."

"Sheila, about the southern force…"

Sheila put a finger on his lips. "Shush. Don't ruin a beautiful moment by talking shop."

Max couldn't argue with that logic. Sheila put her head on his chest and they drifted off to sleep.