AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here's Chapter Three. Building up slowly to the big 'Mech battle; just like the Army–hurry up and wait. More LAMs in this chapter as well; old-time Battletech fans will recognize the Crescent Hawk Company and Jason Youngblood!

Hauptmann Karl Jungblud also briefly appear in Michael Stackpole's Lethal Heritage and figure prominently in the last big scenario in the Battle of Twycross campaign book, as we'll see in the next chapter.

For Sheila, it was the longest stretch of time in her young life. Though it was cool in the cockpit of her 'Mech—nothing was generating heat—she was covered in sweat. The seat was soaked with it, and she could smell her own fear. Her hands shook on the joysticks, and her stomach felt like it had permanently contracted and frozen. She bit her lip to keep from screaming, and tears leaked out of the corners of her tightly shut eyes. Sheila knew she was going to die, sealed inside the steel tomb of her 'Mech and the DropShip. She had managed to keep from throwing up what little breakfast she had when the Merkava had taken its near fatal plunge, and was thankful that she had used the bathroom before she had gone to the 'Mech bay, otherwise her seat would be wet with more than sweat. Her heart felt like it would burst.
"Snowbird One, this is Captain Nelson, come in!" The shout cut through Sheila's terror, and she opened her eyes.
"This is Snowbird One, go ahead," she croaked out.
"Just like you MechWarriors to sleep through all this," Nelson sighed. "Dustoff in five minutes. Get ready; I'm raising ship as soon as you're clear."
"Roger, understood. Thank you, Captain."
"Anytime, Lance Commander. Thanks for flying Merkava Airlines." The line clicked off and Sheila switched frequencies to her lance's. "Snowbird Lance from Snowbird. Stand by for dustoff. Clear the DZ as soon as you can." Sheila did not wait for an acknowledgement. She wiped her hands on her shorts, then checked her 'Mech for damage. Everything read perfect, and Sheila felt the knot in her stomach unwind a little. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.
She was suddenly pressed back into her seat as the Merkava fired the retrorockets in the flat bottom of the ship. The Merkava decelerated rapidly, and Sheila felt the thump of the gigantic landing pads locking into place. There was another burst from the retros, and with a crunching sound, the Merkava settled on the ground of Twycross.
The steel doors rolled upwards, letting light into the bay. The canopy automatically polarized to protect Sheila from being blinded by the harsh sun of Twycross. "Go! Go! Go!" shouted Nelson, and Sheila leapt her 'Mech forward, taking a single step off of the leading edge extension of the DropShip's delta wing. A slight drop, and the Shruiken landed on the planet's soil, heavy myomer muscles absorbing the shock. Sheila pushed her feet down on the pedals, and the 'Mech jogged away from the DropShip. When she felt she had gotten clear, she turned around. Her mouth curved into a smile as she saw Max's Hatchetman slide off the DropShip's wing and quickly take up position to her side.
The Merkava seemed to kneel for a second, then rose up on silvery ion jets. Sheila saw the landing pads retract a moment before everything around her was obscured by the sand thrown up by the DropShip. The 'Mech was buffeted, but Sheila compensated. She looked above the dust cloud, and saw the Merkava heading upwards, propelled by its huge engines.
When the sand began to settle at least somewhat, she looked around for the rest of her lance. "Snowbird Lance, check in."
"Two," Max said.
"Three," Kaatha reported, quickly followed by Drax's "Four's up." Sheila sighed with relief as she saw Kaatha's Griffin and Drax's Phoenix Hawk materialize out of the sand. All four of the 'Mechs had been stripped of paint rather than have Twycross do the job, and they still gleamed in the sunlight, though already the dust of the planet was beginning to stain them. Soon, Sheila guessed, the four would be colored the same dull drab as everything else on the planet.
"Okay," Sheila said, "now that we're all together, let's keep it that way. These dust storms can kill visibility, so let's stay in close order. Drax, take the lead; we don't have much time. Max, you've got the rear."
"Roger," both MechWarriors replied, and the lance turned in the direction of the Kell Hounds' dropzone. They kept to a quick jog; Sheila and Max were slower than either Kaatha or Drax, and no one wanted the lance to get strung out.
Sheila took the time to look around a little. The Plain of Curtains was fairly level, with gently sloping hills. The rust-colored sand was not deep, but formed little dunes continually whipped by the constant wind. It was fairly clear, and Sheila could see blue sky above her, though it was mostly obscured by grayish-red clouds scudding across it. In the distance, she could see the hazy outlines of the Sharktooth Mountains, stabbing jaggedly upwards like their namesake. There were no landmarks she could see, but soon her computer chirped at her, letting Sheila know they had arrived at the dropzone. "We're here," Drax reported a second later.
"Go ahead and set your marker, Four. I'll set mine next to yours in case it doesn't work."
The Phoenix Hawk marched over to a spot, and Sheila had to laugh as Drax kicked the ground free of sand, like a batter clearing home base. He then bent down and opened his 'Mech's left hand, exposing the ball-shaped marker beacon. It dropped to the ground with an audible clunk, and rolled a little before coming to rest right side up, as it was designed to do. Sheila watched as a thin antenna extended outwards from the ball to a height of six feet, then it began emitting a blue, flashing light. She switched her radio to the beacon's frequency, and heard the steady beeping noise it emitted. She switched back. "Beacon's working," Sheila said. Just in case, she set hers next to the other one, though she more or less let it roll off the Shruiken's hand.
"Now what?" Drax said.
"We wait," Sheila told him.
The lance took up a loose formation around the beacon. Sheila ordered them to power down all nonessential systems; the last thing they needed was to be sending out electronic noise for the Clans to home in on. It also meant maintaining radio silence. After a few minutes of this oppressive silence, broken only by the howl of Twycross' wind, Sheila was surprised to find herself bored. The fear of the DropShip ride had abated, which confused her. She felt like she should be scared, especially stuck out on the open plain with no cover for kilometers. If anything larger than two or three OmniMechs showed up, her tiny command would be wiped out in a matter of minutes. She looked over at Max's Hatchetman, and wished she could see him, but the canopy on the Hatchetman was too small. She risked a small wave with her Shruiken's hand, and grinned when she saw the Hatchetman return the wave almost instantly. So he's watching me, too, she thought, and felt better. She turned the 'Mech's head to check on the rest of her lance. Kaatha had her PPC raised, occasionally changing position, and Sheila knew she was marking the terrain, estimating ranges. Drax's Phoenix Hawk was pacing around, looking for all the world like a man waiting for a late hoverbus.

Sheila was humming to herself, wishing she could open the canopy to air out her cockpit, when her headset crackled for her attention. There was too much interference from Twycross' whipping sand, so she turned up the gain. Finally the transmission came through. "Snowbird One, Snowbird One, this is Crescent Hawk One, come in."
"Crescent Hawk, Snowbird. Receiving you five-square. We're at DropZone Shinji. Home in our beacon."
"Roger that. DropShips have the beacon." There was a pause. "Snowbird, authenticate."
Sheila quickly consulted a list of radio callsigns inserted into one of the clear thigh-pads of her shorts. "Authentication is Apple. Countersign?"
"Cobbler. Tally-ho on the Snowbirds."
Sheila hurriedly looked up. She could see the DropShips now, but they were still glints in the blue sky. Closer though, she saw ion jets, and four specks grew into the shapes of Land-Air 'Mechs. The Snowbirds watched the newcomers land; they were painted the deep red and black of the Kell Hounds, and, beside the fox's head patch of that regiment, they also wore an insignia of a screaming hawk against a crescent moon. So that's how they could see us…deployed early, Sheila thought.
The LAMs shifted to their 'Mech mode, looking more like the machines Sheila was used to seeing. LAMs were oddities on any battlefield; never built in large numbers, LAMs were very valuable for their ability to act as both 'Mechs and aerofighters. While they did neither job well, they existed because they could do either at all. They were devilishly hard to maintain, but Sheila thought the Crescent Hawk lance looked like they had just marched off the production line. Must be nice to have the Archon as your best friend, Sheila inwardly sighed.
The lead Phoenix Hawk marched up to her. "Good morning," its pilot radioed. "Jason Youngblood, Crescent Hawk Company, 1st Kell Hounds."
"Hi," Sheila returned. "Sheila Arla-Vlata, Snowbirds Lance, Sentinels RCT."
Through the canopy she could see Youngblood nod. "I know. Heard of you."
"I imagine you have," Sheila replied guardedly.
"I meant I heard you had the Star for Rasalhague. Your boys and girls have fought the Clans a couple of times, right?"
"Yeah. So have yours, on Verthandi."
"We weren't there, but we heard some horror stories. Are the Jade Falcons as bad as the Wolves?"
"They're tough, but they're not ten feet tall."
Youngblood laughed. "Roger that. Look, Snowbird, one of our DropShips took a bad hit on the way down and had to turn back. You mind heading out and securing our southern perimeter until we can get someone else out there?"
"Not at all. It's on our way back anyway. Send me the coordinates." Youngblood tightbeamed the map coordinates over to Sheila, and she entered them into her 'Mech's navigation system. "Got it. We'll head out, then. See you again."
"Keep your powder dry," Youngblood sent, waving. Sheila returned the wave, then ordered her lance to move out. As they walked south, Sheila told her lance what was going on. No one complained; the Snowbirds lance would have to head through that sector to return to the rally point at the Cloisters. It just meant a little more time in their 'Mechs, but given Twycross' less than balmy weather, none of the MechWarriors were in a hurry to go outside. Sheila brought up a rear view on a secondary monitor. She could see the Kell Hound DropShips coming in, both aerodyne ships like the Merkava had been, and the more common "eggs" like the Union and Overlord classes. Fighters formed a protective cloud as the ships landed, obscuring the drop zone in gigantic clouds of dust. Sheila saw a section of four fighters come towards her, and felt the old infantryman's instinctive fear of anything with wings. These were friendly fighters, though, and as they roared overhead, they waggled their wings. The Sentinels waved back.
A few minutes later, they reached the map coordinates. Sheila came to a halt, and again the Snowbirds took up a roughly circular formation. Sheila walked around the perimeter of the circle. Like the rest of the Plain of Curtains, the area was mostly flat, but it began rising into foothills only a half kilometer to the south. To the west, Sheila could hazily see jumbles of rocks, which her navcomputer told her was the western rim of the Great Gash. She was tempted to go take a look, but then decided against it. If the Sentinels would be on Twycross for any amount of time, she would get her chance to explore. As she looked north, she saw the black tendrils of the Diabolis beginning to creep over the mountains north of the Plain. Just above them, she saw the twinkle of sun on metal, and she punched up a magnification. At its highest power, she could just make out the shapes of DropShips, and knew it was the 9th Federated Commonwealth coming down. "God help you poor guys," she said sincerely. With a twinge of the fear she had felt in the DropShip, she thought about what the 9th's MechWarriors would be going through in the megacyclone they were dropping into. She returned to her patrol.
"Snowbird One, Four," Drax radioed. "Ma'am, how long do we have to sit here?"
"Just until the Kell Hounds send someone over to relieve us. They just grounded, so it shouldn't be too long. Why? You got a date?"
"I wish," Drax said. "Nah. It's just that I'm a little hungry."
Sheila's stomach rumbled, and she realized that she, too, could use a little to eat. It was understandable, since she had almost nothing for breakfast. "Should be some trail mix in the survival gear, if you're starving."
"Hell, no. I'd eat my left foot before I'd eat that crap. Squirrel food."
"I've got beef jerky over here," Kaatha broke in. "If one of you want to climb out and come on over, I'd be glad to share."
A sudden gust of sand blew past the 'Mechs. "I'll wait, Three," Drax replied. "I'd probably get lost."
"Suit yourself. Two, how about you?" There was no answer. "Two?" Kaatha repeated.
"Two?" Sheila called out, concerned. Max's Hatchetman was motionless, almost slumped over. "Snowbird Two, come in."
Sheila felt panic rising, but finally Max came on line. "Sorry, people," he said. "I was having a little trouble."
"You okay?"
"Yeah, now I am. I was having a bit of trouble with the, er, relief tube."
"You should have went before we left," Drax snickered. "I feel your pain, buddy. The damn thing is a bitch." Sheila could not resist a giggle. The relief tube in a BattleMech was usually positioned underneath the seat, and required almost completely unstrapping, reaching under the seat—not easy in the cramped cockpits of most 'Mechs—and bring the tube up into the proper position. Then one had to get into a proper position oneself, which was only slightly less difficult for men than women. All this had to be done when the 'Mech was stationary; trying to do it while moving was nearly impossible, and naturally in battle, or during a drop, completely out of the question. Most MechWarriors preferred simply opening a hatch during a break and finding a convienent tree, or, if they were in a hurry, simply going out the hatch. Kaatha proposed Max do exactly that.
"No thanks," Max laughed. "I don't want to get it sandblasted off."
"Oh, come on," Kaatha chided. "You don't have to be embarassed. I'm an old woman and I'm sure Sheila has seen all that before."
Sheila instantly colored bright red. She and Max instantly had the same thought: Oh shit. She knows.
Neither had time to retort, for Drax sang out, "'Mechs on scope, bearing one-seven-seven."
The bantering instantly ceased. Sheila checked her radar, and saw blips enter her scope, coming towards her from the south. Without Sheila having to order them, the Snowbirds took up station in line formation, leveling their weapons. There was no cover for kilometers. Sheila watched the blips come closer, until her scope painted sixteen 'Mechs and four tanks approaching her position, at a fairly good clip. She relaxed a little; Clan 'Mechs traveled in groups of five and, so far, had not been seen using tanks. Nonetheless, none of the Snowbirds lowered their weapons until their sensors received a positive identification.
The 'Mechs materialized out of the dust. "Halt!" Sheila called out. She could see the crest of the 10th Lyran Guards, but rules were rules. "Who goes there?"
"Hauptmann Karl Jungblud," a German-accented voice came back. "3rd Battalion, 10th Lyran Guards."
Jungblud. And Captain Youngblood with the Hounds. Small galaxy. "Lance Commander Sheila Arla-Vlata, Sentinels RCT. Advance and be recognized."
Jungblud's Battlemaster closed up towards Sheila. "Apple," he said.
"Cobbler," Sheila replied. "Good to see you, Hauptmann. Everything in good shape back there?" Sheila motioned her 'Mech towards the hills behind Jungblud.
"Got down fine, other than some Clan fighters. You'll excuse us, Lance Commander; we have a pass to secure."
"Of course, sir. I'll let the Kell Hounds know you're coming."
"Danke. Good hunting, Snowbird."
"Enjoy yourself, sir." The Snowbirds parted to let the company march past, and Sheila contacted the nearest Kell Hound unit as Jungblud disappeared into the dust. Sheila whistled lowly, watching the Lyran 'Mechs—it was an assault company, with most of its 'Mechs over seventy tons. Two Behemoth tanks, little more than mobile pillboxes, and two Ontos tanks, with their fearsome octuplet of medium lasers, rumbled in the trail of the 'Mechs.
The Kell Hounds company commander ordered Sheila to head off towards her rally point; the other unit was close enough to secure the southern perimeter. Sheila ordered her lance forward again. The terrain gradually rose as they headed south, then southwest, and soon they ran into the perimeter guard of the 10th Lyran Guards. After the usual greeting and exchange of passwords, the Sentinels were directed to Caitlin Houndlikov's headquarters. They found it in an area once completely devoid of human habitation, but now was dotted with DropShips like a sudden growth of steel mushrooms. Here the wind and the sand was not as bad as the Plain of Curtains, and Sheila powered down her 'Mech, climbing out to make her report.
Caitlin Houndlikov was in a large tent, with landlines snaking out of it. She leaned back in a campaign chair, unconcernedly munching on bratwurst. Seeing Sheila, she got out of the chair and shook hands, then went back to her meal as Sheila made her report. There was not much to report.
"Good job," Caitlin said. "Get some food into your MechWarriors. I don't think we're going to be doing much today, not with four regiments onplanet."
"Suits me fine, ma'am," Sheila replied. "I've seen all the Falcons I want to see for awhile."
Houndlikov nodded. "Me too, Sheila. They can let the House regs and the Kell Puppies earn their pay today." She washed down the bratwurst with a carton of milk. "Ugh. Beer would be better with this. Well, don't go too far."
Sheila and her lance grabbed some food and took a corner of Houndlikov's tent. They were ignored by the techs running around on various tasks. Sheila caught bits of the battle as she ate: the 9th FC had successfully landed in the Diabolis, and a Clan force of Cluster strength had been spotted heading towards the Plain of Curtains.
Elfa Brownoak came into the tent, looking tired. Sheila got up and waited until she made her report, then handed her a bottle of water. Elfa gratefully took it and drained a third of it. "So, how was it?" Sheila asked.
Elfa regarded her and gave Sheila a tired smile. "A cast-iron bitch. Felt like Dorothy in that effing tornado. We didn't dare fly around or jump very far, because the damn wind would throw us around like a fracking rag doll. Mike Vragel tried it and I thought he was going to end up on the moon. Got the beacon placed, and be damned if the 9th FC didn't almost land on my head. That's got to be the first time I've ever almost been run over by a damn DropShip."
"See any Clanners?"
Elfa nodded. "Sure as hell did. From a distance, thank God. Almost thought they were the Puppies until Larry Stohr saw a Fenris. Looks like their garrison troopies use similar 'Mechs to ours, mostly. They look a bit different, but they're going to play hell identifying each other in that shit out there. Didn't see any Toads, though." Elfa took another long drink of water. "Next time someone gives me a job like that, I'm telling them to stuff it up their ass." The fact that Caitlin Houndlikov was clearly within earshot did not seem to bother Elfa in the least. "How 'bout you, Sheila?"
"I haven't done anything but wander around making sure the Hounds got down and saying hello to Lyrans."
"And you're complaining."
"Not really, no. I'll be happy to sit out this campaign, Elfa."
Caitlin walked over, a hastily scrawled message in her hand. "Think again, Sheila. I just got a message from the Prince himself. He wants you and your lance to report to him over at the Cloisters ASAP."
Sheila rolled his eyes. "Oh, damn. He probably just wants to say hi."
"I don't argue with the man who signs our paychecks, or his son at least, so mount up and get over there, Sheila." There was just the hint of displeasure at Sheila, and the younger woman got the hint. She saluted and collected her lance. The Snowbirds were no happier about it, but they left their lunch and walked out into the dusty air. Elfa tossed Sheila bottled water as she left the tent. "Sheila, be careful!" Elfa called out. "Their second-line 'Mechs are lighter than ours, but they still looked mean as hell!"
"Thanks!" Sheila yelled back, then climbed up to the cockpit. In a minute, her Shruiken headed out once more.