AUTHOR'S NOTE: Chapter Four. This is the longest of my story arcs so far, so there's still plenty to go. Again, this story is rated PG-13 for a little profanity and a few sexual references. Note that even in fanfiction, characters practice safe sex. (Though somehow I don't see the Trojan Man being around in the 31st Century.)

Kat: Absolutely. A well-organized attack can break even veteran units, and I'm glad that you liked that. After seeing the first 10 minutes of Transformers, I have an idea of what fighting the Clans would be like.

Bienviendo: Print? Well, this isn't really "print," but who knows? Maybe WizKids will get bored with MWDA and call me up to publish my books. (I kinda doubt it, but weirder things have happened.) As for Tukayyid, no, the Sentinels won't be there. I won't steal Stackpole's thunder; there's no reason at all for the Sentinels to be at an all-ComStar show. In any case, the Sentinels will face their own share of last stands against the Clans.


He who knows not, but knows not that he knows not, is a fool: avoid him.

He who knows not, and knows that he knows not, is a student: teach him.

He who knows, but knows not that he knows, lacks confidence: encourage him.

He who knows, and knows that he knows, is a tiger: respect him.


Pascia Grove

Planting, Jade Falcon Occupational Zone

13 November 3050

"They're retreating!" someone yelled over the open net.

"Well, hell, let's go after them!" someone else exclaimed, and the Sentinels surged forward.

"Hold formation and damn that eagerness!" Sheila shouted. She noted with a distinct thrill of pleasure that the Sentinel MechWarriors did as they were told. "Buffalo One, put forward a skirmish line and follow the Falcons at a distance. Close up to the river if you can, but don't let them draw you into an ambush. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Tessya Blackthorn replied. She began organizing a group of surviving light 'Mechs, which cautiously began trailing the Falcons through the woods. Both women forgot that Tessya outranked Sheila.

The rest of the ersatz battalion was shaking itself into something resembling a defensive line. Sheila turned and saw Mira Canis-Vlata's Battlemaster coming towards her, followed closely by Max's own Battlemaster, a gift from a grateful Federated Commonwealth for his actions on Blackjack and Twycross. "Lancer One to Command Two." Mira's voice was full of irony. "Your orders were to find a lance commander and rally at the road. Not take command and organize a countercharge."

Sheila wasn't sure if she was being reprimanded or not. "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry, ma'am." Sheila was not sorry in the least, but she felt stupid without saying it.

"Sorry? What for? Pulling our ass out of the fire?" Mira laughed. "Take a lance and look for survivors in the grove. I'll take over here. Well done, Two. Well done."

"Thank you," Sheila replied quietly. She picked three other MechWarriors at random and they moved off, deeper in the grove. As she passed Max's 'Mech, she blew him a kiss. He made an elaborate show of being knocked off his feet, and the Battlemaster staggered drunkenly for a second. He made up some excuse to his mother as Sheila left.

The forest was still thick, and Sheila renewed her concentration. There was no guarantee the Clans had completely left, because there were always stragglers, and the forest was a perfect location for Elementals. Magnetic scanning was picking up a great deal of fragments, and infrared was reading heat plumes everywhere. Sheila let the other 'Mechs, which were lighter, take the lead as they backtracked the Sentinels' flight. There were pieces of 'Mechs laying all over the grove, arms, legs, myomers, armor plates. They passed two wrecks, but both were missing canopies or egress hatches, indicating the pilot had bailed out. Sheila marked the location and told her command to look around for survivors. A minute or two later, they found three Sentinel MechWarriors huddled in a hedgerow, who gratefully came out and greeted their comrades. Sheila detached one of her 'Mechs to load up and take the three back to Mira's area.

"Command Two, I've got movement. One 'Mech, slow. Negative IFF."

Shit, Sheila thought, assault 'Mech. "Okay." She realized she didn't know who she was operating with. It was a Wasp and a design she had never seen before, a Unicorn. "You two flank him from both sides. I'll come up the middle. Watch for his buddies."

The two acknowledged quickly and began moving out in a classic pincer. Sheila knew the Unicorn had a PPC, and both lights could jump.

Sheila brushed past a huge tree and into a clearing. It had been as densely wooded as the rest of the forest, but five minutes of 'Mech battle had changed that. There were at least four smashed 'Mechs in the clearing, three still intensely burning. The one that was not was an Ostroc, and Sheila could make out a MechWarrior crouched underneath the ruins. The other three were Clan Omnis. One was a Puma and the other an Uller, both of them on fire so badly Sheila could not tell what had destroyed them. The last was a Thor, and there was no question what had killed this 'Mech, and the MechWarrior inside. The entire upper torso was a blackened, singed ruin, and the offset cockpit lay crushed underneath the missile launcher housing.

The only 'Mech standing was an Awesome that looked like it had seen better days. No part of the 'Mech was undamaged, except perhaps the blocky head, and even there the paint was blistered and burned. The right arm was gone, and the legs looked badly savaged. One of the torso PPCs was unrecognizable trash, and the other was sparking. The left arm PPC was intact, however, and it tracked on Sheila for a moment. "Sheila?" a voice asked. "Babes, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me, you lech," Sheila grinned, as she recognized Tooriu Kku's voice.


"The combat value of every unit depends on the quality of its officers. An average-trained unit, which has its weak points, can still give a good performance if it has a good commander...the value of good leadership is proved by the confidence of the troops in their leaders, the improvement of their fighting qualities and finally by success in combat."
Horatius Village

Planting, Tamar March, Federated Commonwealth

13 November 3050

Calla Bighorn-Vlata studied the map spread out on the table before him. Over it was a plastic overlay that showed the Jade Falcons withdrawing back to the beaches of Blackett Strait. His aerial recon had already shown cargo barges waiting to take them across the strait.

Calla sighed and shook his head. With an intact regiment, he would have pursued the Jade Falcons all the way to the beach and engaged them there, pushed them into the sea. He had debated calling down the Kell Hounds, but it would be twelve hours before they could reach drop position. Worse, they would have only limited air cover, because the nearest useable airfields were at Gray Bay, while the Jade Falcons's aerofighters were less than fifteen kilometers away at the capital city of Second Try. Calla wondered if, perhaps, it was a blessing in disguise. The Jade Falcons would fight like tigers with their backs to the sea, whereas once they were across the strait and onto the main continent, they would have to spread themselves thin to cover every angle of approach. Blackett Strait was shallow and easily fordable by 'Mechs walking underwater, or through a combat drop out of range of Clan fighters. He'd have to talk to Morgan Kell's man-on-the-scene, Scott Bradley, and Ariana Winston about that.

"Dad? Here's the butcher's bill for today."

Calla looked up into Sheila's face. He glanced at the sheet of paper and sighed again. While Alpha and Beta Battalions had come through in good shape, albeit exhausted from a day's hard fighting, Ceta Battalion was heavily damaged. Rhialla's 4th Company was still operational, having only lost a lance, and some of those might be salvageable. Likewise, Elfa's 2nd was largely intact, having fought Elementals for the whole battle, but her company had been understrength since Persistence. Van Thorn's 1st Company could muster barely two lances, while Stott's 2nd Company had ceased to exist, with only three MechWarriors and their 'Mechs fit for duty. Because the Sentinels used oversized companies of four lances, that meant that 21 BattleMechs lay in the fields of Pascia Grove or in Horatius village, or in salvage bays. Much worse than the 'Mech losses were the loss of twelve irreplaceable MechWarriors, a full company's worth of men and women who would either fill shallow graves on Planting, be shipped home to their families, or be crippled for the rest of their lives. Calla set the paper down and rose to his full height of six foot three inches. His back creaked audibly, and Calla decided he was getting too old for this. "Sheila, I...uh..."

Calla momentarily found himself at a loss for words. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he still saw Sheila as a six year old tomboy in clothes dirty from wrestling in the mud or fooling around in the 'Mech bays. Now he abruptly realized his daughter had grown into a young woman, only three inches shorter than himself, a beautiful mixture of himself and her mother. And today she had turned a battle around. She had led a charge with sheer force of will, turning what could have been a disaster into a victory. He had run his Battlemaster down the hill, for a moment forgetting that he was a commander of a regiment instead of just Sheila's father, seeing her do something he considered foolhardy. It may have been, but it had also worked. "Dad?" she asked hesitantly.

"Sheila..." He put his hands on her shoulders. "I just wanted to say you did good today. Damn good. I've always been proud of you, you know that, but..." He could not say any more. Sheila just moved into his embrace, telling him silently that he did not need to.

He felt something press into his chest. Gently, he moved back from Sheila's hug and saw the chain around her throat. Before she could stop him, Calla withdrew the engagement ring. He held it in his palm for a moment, then looked into her green eyes. "When did this happen?"

"It...er...on Twycross...well, before that, really...ah..." Sheila stammered, wondering how to explain herself and her somewhat sordid romance. "It's not Tooriu," she finished lamely. Calla had never said anything to her about it, but he had known about the brief flare of passion between his daughter and the big MechWarrior. Sheila knew he had disapproved of it, and it had been one reason that relationship had never gone anywhere.

"I know who it is, Sheila. I...I didn't know it had gotten this far along."

Sheila was a little upset. "I love Max, Dad. I'm not just sleeping with him." Calla turned red. It had never been easy for him to acknowledge his daughter's sexuality. "You disapprove of it?"

"Would it matter if I did?"

"What? How can you say that, Dad? I've always tried to–"

Calla stopped her with an upraised hand. "That's not what I meant, Sheila." He looked at the wooden ceiling of the hotel room he had borrowed as a command post. "My folks had died long before I met your mother, Sheila, but her parents didn't approve one bit. Here I was, a mercenary MechWarrior with no breeding, and she was the daughter of two very high government officials, an old noble line, personal confidants of Ian Davion. But we were in love, so Arla didn't give a damn what her parents thought and married me anyway, poor woman. I was just wondering if you were carrying on the family tradition."

Sheila looked down. "It would be a lot easier if you approved."

"Sheila, I've got a regiment to run and a campaign to plan...but I will have a talk with your mother tonight. It's just sudden, that's all."

"We weren't planning on getting hitched right off, Dad." She rolled her eyes. "I guess I couldn't keep it a secret forever. How long have you known me and Max were, uh, you know..."

Calla grinned despite himself. "Since that night Max hid under your bed for half an hour. At first Mom thought you had just taken a shower or something, as you were naked at the time, but then she noticed a box of condoms on the bedstand. It's nice to know I raised a smart daughter and Mira raised a smart son, but you should have stashed those behind your pillow right off. I speak from experience."

"You mean, you and Mom..."

"Your grandparents may be loving people now, Sheila, but that's because they're old. Trust me, back in 3027, they wanted my head on a plate. I had to sneak into their estate. Your mother and I seriously considered getting her pregnant just so we could present them with a fait accompli, but luckily she just eloped with me instead." Calla suddenly went pale. "Sheila, you're not..."

"Pregnant? Heck no. Do you think I would have done what I did today if I was?"

"Your mother was six weeks with you when she helped get Tormana Liao's family off Highspire." He kissed her on the forehead. "Well, allow your old man to say congratulations, at least. I love you, Sheila. And Max...Max is a good kid. Good man, I mean. I think Mom will approve."

There was a knock on the door, and Archibald Harrier stuck his head in. "Commander? Lieutenant Commander Houndlikov and Major Rhialla to see you, sir."

"Send them in, Arch."

"They want to see you alone, sir." Harrier looked pointedly at Sheila.

"All right." Calla turned to Sheila. "We're done for the night anyway. Go hit the hay, Sheila. We'll talk more tomorrow."

Sheila stood on tiptoe and kissed her father's cheek, then walked out of the room. She came to attention as Marion Rhialla and Catherine Houndlikov walked in and saluted crisply. Both women returned the salute. Marion slapped Sheila's shoulders. "Good work today, kid. We'll make a MechWarrior out of you yet." Houndlikov said nothing, only managed a faint, somewhat disapproving smile.

"Thank you, ma'am. I try."

"You try pretty good." Marion winked. "Snowbird." She walked into the room and closed the door.

Sheila thought for a moment. No one had used her old nickname in years. She shrugged and headed out.

Calla returned Houndlikov and Rhialla's salutes. "Ladies." He turned to the maps. "Cathy, I've decided to consolidate the regiment and move up gradually to Blackett Strait. We're not going to catch the Falcons anyway, and we still have to deal with Fort Pilum on our right flank before we secure Dunbarton." As the two women moved closer, he cupped his hands around Second Try. "I want to land west and east of the city, using the 50th Heavy Cavalry on the western flank and the 2nd Kell Hounds on the east. The 2nd can also drive north and relieve some of the pressure from the 20th Arcturan Guards at Tel Akbir."

Catherine nodded. "I like it, Calla, but that's not what we came to talk about."

Calla looked around. "What is it, then?"

Marion Rhialla leaned against the map table. "Calla, let's face it. We'd be discussing defense plans for Gray Bay if it wasn't for your daughter today."

"I know, Marion." Calla looked at his boots. "She did damn well today, no question. But I don't–"

"With all due respect, sir," Marion interrupted, "she's being wasted where she is right now. She's a glorified courier. And you can't say she's necessary for headquarters defense, because you've got a good regimental command lance, including yourself."

Calla shook his head. "I'm not kicking anyone out of lance command, Marion. That's nepotism of the worst kind. Sheila can handle a lance; hell, she can probably fight a company. But right now my problem is I have too many officers and not enough MechWarriors. As it is, some of the lance commanders may need to take temporary demotions to stay in the cockpit. No go. Sheila deserves a promotion, there's no doubt, but not at someone else's expense. She wouldn't want it that way."

Catherine stepped in between them. "Calla, I see no reason to beat around the bush. We think Sheila shouldn't have a lance or a company."

"Then why–"

"We think she should have a battalion."

Calla's mouth fell open. When he got over the shock, he said, "That's impossible, Cathy! Where am I going to find MechWarriors for a new battalion? Shit, we don't have enough to fill out Ceta as it is, not after today–and that's assuming I think Sheila's ready for it!"

"Calla, we think she's ready. Besides, who else do we have? Alexander van Thorn got hit pretty badly today; he's out for a few months. Shiloh Stott is one of the best light company officers we have, but he can't run a battalion–and we need him too badly to run lights. Elfa's a LAM pilot, and she doesn't want the job."

Calla looked at Marion, who shook her head. "Neither do I, Calla. I want to stay with my company. I had a battalion once. Never again." Calla knew the reason behind that: Marion Rhialla had once commanded a mercenary battalion, but they had been wiped out by a House Liao unit before the Fourth Succession War.

"And we talked to Elfa. She thinks Sheila should have a shot at battalion command," Catherine added.

Calla looked from one woman to the other. "I don't believe this. You're asking me to jump Sheila two ranks to Lieutenant Commander? Just like that?"

"Why not?" Marion said.

"Why not? My God, talk about nepotism! The regiment would have me shot!"

"No, they would applaud it," Catherine said.

"Okay, why?"

Marion levered herself off the table and began to pace. "Calla, it's time we faced the cold, hard facts of life. We're not getting any younger, the three of us, and neither are the other senior officers–your cousin, Todd Canis-Vlata, or Alex van Thorn. I'm fifty. Catherine's forty-six. You're forty-five."

"I know how old I am, Marion. Get to the point."

"Calla, I've seen these Clan MechWarriors. They're young. And look at the majority of the Sentinels. The company and battalion officers are in their late thirties or early forties, at their youngest. But our line MechWarriors are between seventeen and twenty-five. We've got an age gap. I can't relate to half my company. I don't know what they like. I don't know what music they listen to. I can't stand the way they dress. I know they think I'm an old battleaxe."

"And I know what they call me when they think I'm out of earshot," Catherine chuckled. "Fact is, Calla, Sheila is their age. They believe in her. You should have seen the griping and bitching I heard when she got court-martialed. Half my battalion thought she got railroaded. She can beat the Clans, Calla."

Calla glared at her. "Are you saying we old fogies can't?"

"Oh, sure. Old age and treachery always work over youth and vigor. But Calla, we've gotten set into tactics for fighting House Kurita and everyone else. These Clanners tear us up when we use those tactics. We win by sheer luck, Calla, or because the other commander's an idiot. Persistence, we did all right because we were in an old Castle Brian. Rasalhague, we weren't anything more than the rear guard. The less said about Blackjack the better, and Twycross was dumb luck and Kai Allard. And today...your plan was perfect, Calla. If we were fighting the 2nd Sword of Light or Stapleton's Iron Hand. But that Jade Falcon Cluster overran Ceta in a matter of seconds." Catherine put a hand on Calla's shoulder, a remarkable show of warmth for her. "I'm not saying we should hang up our cooling vest, Calla. What I am saying is that we should get some new blood into high command, someone who doesn't think like we do. Sheila is the best candidate for that."

Calla sat down and put his head in his hands. He sensed that they were right. Sheila was being wasted where she was, and no one else in the Sentinels had the training, the ability, and the popularity that she currently enjoyed. The father in him rebelled at the very thought, because he knew Sheila would be willing to risk more than he was willing for her to risk.

After a few moments, he looked up. "What did you have in mind?"

Catherine turned to Marion, who stopped pacing. "More of a demi-battalion than a real battalion, Calla. Two companies of 'Mechs, and a company of tanks. We've been wanting to mess around with combined arms for awhile, anyway, and that'll shut up the treadheads who say we look down on them. Twenty-four 'Mechs and twelve tanks." She pulled a sheet of paper out of her back pocket and handed it to Calla. "I did this on the way over, so there will have to be some changes. I know if Sheila has a chance, she'll take the pick of the litter, and we can't afford her to grab all the best warriors. So if we let her choose a lance or two and assign the rest, I think everyone will be happy."

Calla scanned the sheet. "So you're proposing we disband Ceta–"

"For now, anyway," Catherine interjected.

"We disband Ceta," Calla continued with a quick dirty look at Catherine, "assign most of the survivors from Stott's, Brownoak's, and van Thorn's companies to Sheila, allow her to grab eight people she wants, and just turn her loose?"

"Why not?" Marion repeated. "After all, it's what you did when you formed this regiment."

"Sort of..." Calla's voice trailed off. "Elfa as commander of the 2nd Company?" He looked up sharply at Marion. "And you're taking a demotion to lance commander?"

She nodded. "Calla, I'm an assault 'Mech pilot. Always have been. I'm way out of my depth as a light company commander, because I keep forgetting they're not built for scrapping. Put Stott in my place. Besides, with me and Elfa there, we'll be able to keep Sheila from going too wild or making dumb mistakes. Well, some of them, anyway."

"And we fold what's left over into Alpha and Beta Battalions," Catherine said, "which should fill us out to about full strength."

Calla rubbed his chin in thought. What they said made sense. "Sheila will need time to train and get used to a new battalion," he mused.

"It's going to take us two weeks to close up to Blackett Strait and ready a new offensive," Catherine replied. "That should be plenty of time. And I propose that we don't throw Sheila to the wolves right off. She can take out Fort Pilum. It will be a tough nut to crack, but I doubt the Clans will leave frontline units there. It should give us a chance to blood the new battalion without getting them all killed."

Calla handed the sheet back to Marion. "I want to sleep on it. Right now, I've had one too many surprises for one day." Caught between the twin glares of two very strong-willed women, Calla sighed. "I tentatively approve." He looked at the map. "God help her."