Chapter Three

            "Trainer begins in three…two…one…begin," the computer controlling the simulation announced in the pods occupied by Colonel Bryan Cochren and MechWarrior Sun Chin of the Angels.  Bryan immediately began working the foot pedals of the pod, sending electronic signals to the myomer muscles of Gabriel and moving the massive legs one by one in a slightly less graceful parody of human walking.  Picking up speed, he heeled over to the right and headed for a group of trees that stood in a shallow valley created by a pack of hills.  Chin wasn't on his sensors at the moment, but that was no cause for worry.

            Chin was good, he knew, but experience counted for a lot.  His Victor was just as nimble as the younger warrior's Grasshopper, even if he personally wasn't as good at jumping.  After almost a minute, he entered the treeline.  He worked his way farther into the forest until he was sure he wouldn't be spotted visually, and slowly made the massive machine kneel.  Then he powered down as much of the 'mech as he dared and set about scanning the surrounding hills for movement. 

            Being almost fifty yards into the small forest should make him all but invisible to passive scanners, although an active scan would pick up the output from his mech's fusion reactor.  He was counting on Chin playing it cool just as he was.  Unfortunately it meant his sensors were blind as well, which just meant he had to rely on his good old eyeballs.  After nearly twenty minutes he caught something out of the corner of his eye.  Turning his head slightly to look at the spot, he caught it again farther to the left.  Then it appeared again.  Bobbing slightly above the crest of the hill with each footstep, the head of Chin's Grasshopper kept peeking at him.  It looked comical, but he was undoubtedly searching for his Colonel's Victor.

            "Gotcha," he muttered, and brought Gabriel up to full power again.  Standing slowly, he moved nearer the edge of the treeline.  Now a bare twenty meters into the forest, he watched as the bobbing head turned suddenly, and the whole mech came into view as it crested the hill.  At well over six hundred meters away, there was no chance of Cochren's short-range weaponry even making it that far.  He hunkered down again, making the Victor as small a profile as possible and gradually easing the metal man's arms into firing position, floating the pale green crosshairs across the Grasshopper's form on his HUD.  He watched the range finder tick down across three hundred meters, the extreme range for his weapons, and then his crosshairs flashed gold, the signal for a target lock.

Clamping his right finger down on the trigger, he sent a whining stream of

depleted-uranium slugs downrange at the opposing mech.  The autocannon burst mowed through a couple small trees in the line of fire, then caught the machine in the hip and stitched down the leg.  The stream of slugs blew the small armor brace from the mech's left knee and caused it to stagger.  A wave of heat poured into the cockpit. 

Throttling Gabriel to life, Bryan stood and burst from the treeline, loosing a round of four short-range missiles.  One impacted on the mech's broad chest, barely scratching the armor there, and the Grasshopper took to the air, making the medium lasers in the Victor's left wrist miss low with the other three missiles as it soared over them.

            At the apex of its leap, Chin fired his own medium lasers, their scarlet beams stitching three lines across the Colonel's chest.  The loss of a ton of armor threw the Victor's gyro out of whack, nearly sending it to the ground.  Hitching his next step, Bryan kept Gabriel upright and running.  The Grasshopper landed hard off to his right and immediately swiveled towards him and leapt again, trying to get over and behind the Victor.  Soaring above the Victor with a bare twelve meters to spare, Chin popped off another laser shot, this time with his eight centimeter beam.  The emerald bolt ran across the assault 'mech's shoulders and head, melting most of the Colonel's cockpit protection away.  The Grasshopper landed about fifty meters from the Victor with its back to him.  Bryan had already lined up his shot, having twisted the Victor's torso around to the left as the Grasshopper sailed overhead.  Twin ruby beams shot out, impaling the seventy-ton 'hopper in the back, but failing to breach the armor there.  Bringing the mech up short as Chin turned to face him, both MechWarriors took a second to steady their aim before letting fly with all they had.

            Chin's light show, consisting of an emerald large laser and four smaller medium lasers, ripped into the Victor's tough hide, stripping all of the armor from the assault mech's left arm and shredding the myomer musculature there.  The large laser played its beam over the mech's center torso, ripping an ugly gash across the pristine armor there.  Bryan stepped Gabriel back a meter to steady himself, then returned fire with a vengeance.

            One of the two medium lasers in Cochren's left forearm again tore into the Grasshopper's left leg, stripping the last of the armor from it but failing to do any internal damage.  Three of the four short-range missiles impacted on the mech's broad chest, pitting the armor there, while the final one slammed into the mech's head and exploded.  Bryan winced in sympathy.  The cockpit simulators tended to jerk around a lot when faking a head shot, and it wasn't a pleasant experience for the 'Warrior inside.  The high-pitched scream from the Victor's Pontiac 100 class twenty autocannon rang out again, and the heavy slugs tore into the Grasshoppers right shoulder, rending the arm from the mech and sending it spinning off through the air.  The Grasshopper reeled wildly, the sudden loss of so much weight throwing it's gyro off.  Chin recovered quickly, however, and launched his mech in another jump almost immediately.

            The leap was so sudden and the distance so short that only one thought ran through Cochren's head before the heavy mech slammed into his Victor.  Death from above! 

            The Grasshopper plowed feet-first into the Victor's left shoulder, flipping the heavy mech over the top of Cochren and driving him backwards into to the ground.  The cockpit shook something horrible, slamming him to the full range of the restraint harnesses and back again while the computer calmly informed him of the loss of the mech's left arm and most of its back and left torso armor.  Glancing at the systems board on the console, he set about getting the Victor back on its feet again, first rolling over and then levering himself up with the autocannon.

            He managed to get fully upright while the Grasshopper was still crouched on one knee, facing the wrong direction.  The seventy-ton BattleMech looked much the worse for its desperate maneuver, with most of its front torso armor gone and the right arm bent the wrong way.  Bryan swore in admiration that Chin had even managed to right the 'mech with only one badly damaged arm.  Swinging his massive autocannon into line with the mech, he carefully sighted.  Waiting for the crosshairs to flash gold, he pulled the trigger, sending a devastating stream of depleted-uranium slugs through the mech's left leg, severing it at the knee and dumping the savaged GHR-5H to the ground again.

            Sitting in the sweltering simulation cockpit, Bryan shook his head.  The kid definitely had the skills.  His Victor was minus an arm and you could probably shove a Locust through the hole in Gabriel's left torso.  He opened the comm line to his opponent.  "Chin, do you yield?"

            The Asian-lilted voice came back immediately with, "Do I have a choice, sir?"

            The Colonel laughed and pointed the Pontiac 100 at the prone mech.  "Not really, kid."

"Well, Dave, what have you got for me?" Cochren asked as he entered the

wardroom after showering.  While the simulation pods were just that – simulations, they were very realistic, right down to the amount of heat produced by the various fans and heaters installed in them.  His XO was sitting at the table they had gathered around almost two days ago to decide whether or not to pursue the Rasalhague contract.  Arrayed in front of him was a stack of papers and his laptop computer.  The optical drive on it hummed as it read the information disc that the FRR representative had given them. 

            "Well, you remember Harper Meryl?" Dave replied as he swiveled the chair to face his Colonel.  Bryan nodded and sat down.  "Seems he's the planetary administrator for Magnusson now.  In addition-"  Bryan held up his hand, forestalling the rest of Mellert's explanation.

            "Why don't we get the rest of the officers in here or online.  I just wanted a quick update, but you're obviously prepared for this one already."  He grinned.  Dave glared at him.  He hated giving briefings.

            "You…How did your fight with Mr. Sun Chin go?" he asked, changing tact. 

            "Pretty well, all things told.  He's an incredible jumper, especially for piloting something that heavy.  A Grasshopper's just no match firepower and armor-wise for my Victor.  I took him down after a couple exchanges, kneecapping him with my Pontiac."  He reached over and poked the Major in the shoulder.  "He did make things interesting, though.  All you need is a bit more speed and you'd get him, too, you know.  He's damned good, but still inexperienced."

            "Hmm…Did you finish the roster yet, Bryan?  We're up to forty mechs and 'Warriors now, right?"

            "Yeah.  Perry has First, Quix Second, and Nichole Third.  We added the three 'mechs and five 'Warriors to Nichole's command to bring it up to a full company.  Grabbed a Trebuchet, a Panther, and one guy brought with him a Mongoose that he insists dates back to the Star League.  It's got some really interesting electronics built into it that Fingers was salivating over.  You'll still be in charge of coordinating combined arms actions.  The regimental command lance will consist of you, me, Graham Jordan…" Jordan was the Angels' communications specialist.  His ninety-ton CP-10-Z Cyclops, Betty Lou, was jammed with gear to coordinate the Angels – ground, air and space.  "…and Sun Chin."  Dave raised an eyebrow

            "You're adding Chin to the command lance?  Some of the Angels aren't going to like that."  Cochren shrugged.

            "I think this kid's got the stuff to be in a leadership position.  Having him in the command lance as a 'bodyguard' of sorts will let me see firsthand how he reacts to combat situations.  Besides, it makes for good order.  Seventy-tonner, eighty-tonner, ninety-tonner, and a hundred."  He grinned.  "If they don't like it, that's their problem.  Anyway, the armor battalion hasn't changed much at all.  We managed to pick up a quartet of Maxim hover transports for the Old Man's infantry, as well as replacing Gregor's lost Transgressor with a heavier Stingray.  Made him happy."

            "I imagine so.  Isn't everyday you get a new aerospace fighter.  What's the TO&E up to, then?"  The Table of Organization and Equipment was a record of everything a mercenary group owned.

            "We stand at forty mechs, four platoons of foot infantry, one jump, and two anti-mech platoons.  We still have a squadron of aerospace support with the addition of Gregor's new Stingray, along with nearly a battalion and a half of armor, ranging from Savannah Masters to Demolishers and a Schrek for the really big stuff.  But you know that better than me.  One Long Tom and a Thor for artillery support.  The Right, Left, and Messiah round it all out."

            Mellert pushed back his chair and stood.  "Well, why don't I go get Quix, Perry, and Nichole.  Should we get Kerry in here, too?"

            Nodding, Cochren reached across the table and snagged Dave's laptop.  "Yeah.  Have Jordan whistle up the Old Man, Bumblebee, Shrike, and Griegorovich as well on the conference band.  We'll get everyone up to speed at once since we've got a lonely couple days of burn up here before hitting the Messiah.  Everyone's had an hour and a half or so since liftoff to settle down.  Now it's back to business."  Dave stood and walked out of the room as Cochren began perusing the information contained in the data discs.  Five minutes later he had returned with Captains Brown and Quince in tow.

            "Nichole and Quix will be here in a minute.  They're having a grand time watching Chin take on the recon lance of Second Company single-handed."  The Colonel laughed, and his XO grinned as well.  "Okay, so maybe Quix isn't having that great a time, seeing as how Chin was cleaning up on them, but your wife was laughing it up."

            "She'll get her turn."

            "Yeah, well…" Mellert trailed off as the remaining pair of Captains entered the room.  "Everybody ready?"  They all nodded.  "Good.  Richards, Shrike, Packard, you guys there?"  Affirmation came through the PA system in the wardroom.  The voices were tinny, but recognizable.

            Mellert snatched his laptop back from the Colonel and announced, "Then let's get down to it."

            The briefing of the situation on St. John took the better part of the afternoon.  At least, what would have been afternoon.  The dropships were running on St. John time in order to acclimate the Angels to the nineteen-hour days. 

Quite a bit had changed in the years since the Angels had liberated St. John from the Draconis Combine, placing it under the rule of Magnusson and his Free Rasalhague Republic.  Bryan was surprised, as were several of his other officers, to hear that many of the resistance leaders were now officials in the government of St. John.  Harper Meryl, whom Mellert had mentioned earlier, had been a revolutionary and guerrilla warfare specialist during the Ronin Wars.  Now he was the Planetary Administrator, with several other recognized rabble-rousers amongst his political staff.  They had attempted to raise their own militia from the remnants of the revolutionaries that had been the foundation of the Angels' successful liberation attempt, but quickly learned that a standing army for defense and several hundred guerrillas were two completely different things, which is why the contract that the Angels had won was available in the first place.

            Politically, things seemed to be quite stable.  Meryl was a popular man, and the government itself functioned well enough.  While Meryl was the official Administrator, the Senate that was composed of elected representatives could overrule his judgment.  However, since most of the Senators were men and women that had fought alongside him, the chances of them having a severe disagreement were slim.  The portion of the population that believed St. John should have stayed under Draconis Combine rule was generally a well-behaved and quiet minority, so there was little threat of a revolt.  The officers agreed that they would have to keep their eyes on them, though, lest they fall prey to sabotage or other less pleasant forms of protest.

            After the briefing ended conversation turned to how the Angels should go about handling training the St. John militia.  As part of the information packet, the Angels received a listing of St. John's military resources.  They included an old rail version of the Long Tom artillery piece, as well as a couple dozen older tanks and various armored vehicles.  They even had a massive one hundred-ton Behemoth tank and a trio of SYD-21 Seydlitz light aerospace fighters.  The real cream of the crop was two lances of fully functioning BattleMechs, salvaged from the fighting on St. John.  After the war had ended, Magnusson had sent technicians to various worlds to attempt to get whatever equipment they had into fighting shape once more.  Unfortunately he hadn't had the warriors to spare in order to man them.  The mechs ranged from a light Locust and Stinger to a Cyclops and a practically worthless ninety-five ton Banshee.  Most of the mechs were medium weights, with the two assault class machines and a single heavy to accompany them.  Not a serious fighting force, but enough to slow down and harass a push from enemy opposition.

            It was decided that Bumblebee would train the aerospace pilots, teaching them how to work as a team with each other as well as the ground forces.  The Seydlitz's large lasers gave them a hell of a punch for such a tiny fighter, and they were very fast and agile, perfect for strafing attacks.  The three of them wouldn't be able to do much on their own in space, so training them to work in concert with ground forces was the best use of resources.

            The Old Man would handle all the infantry work, training them in everything from crowd control to anti-mech tactics in concert with the Colonel and their own militia MechWarriors.  Shrike would handle armored vehicle training, coordinating with Major Mellert for combined-arms operations along with Packard and his infantry.  All in all, the idea was to make the small militia use everything to its fullest, and that meant working as a team.  After discussing various scenarios with his command staff for nearly another hour, Cochren told them all to go and get some sleep.  By the time they landed on St. John he wanted preliminary training schedules, not just for the militia, but for the Angels themselves as well.  He wasn't about to let their skills deteriorate during garrison, regardless of how small the chance of action was. 

            Chin lay on his bunk in the belly of the Left, gazing at a tattered picture.  The fading print showed an Asian couple with a young child, a boy of no more than six.  Though he'd seen the picture thousands of times, it seemed that every time he looked at it he saw something new, some subtle nuance in his father's expression, or another expression of matronly love in the way his mother touched his shoulder or held his father.  It had distressed him at first to find that he had trouble picturing his parents in his head.  The picture he held was all he had left of them.  Gradually he'd come to accept it as the passage of time.

Chin was Capellan, born and raised with a rich Chinese heritage.  He wore his culture openly and proudly, though many reviled and judged him for his nation of birth.

The Capellan Confederation was a dictatorship, ruled by Maximilian Liao.  When he had finally died - murdered, some said - his younger daughter Romano had taken the throne while her older sister and the true heir had broken away from the Confederation, forming the St. Ives Compact and allying it with the powerful Federated Commonwealth.  Romano, if it was possible, was just as fanatical as her father and perhaps even more paranoid and delusional.  She ruled the Confederation with an iron fist, and squeezed ruthlessly anyone she perceived to be against her.

            Like his parents.

            They had been accused of harboring St. Ives sympathizers; their small restaurant raided one day by Romano's Death Commandos, the Chancellor's personal guards.  They had slain his parents and even several innocent bystanders because of nothing more substantial than a rumor.  They most likely would have killed Chin himself had he been there, but the twelve-year old was at a friend's house, playing.  The very same friend whose parents had paid for Chin to leave the Confederation, relaying him through their underground contacts until he had emerged, safe, in St. Ives.  Sun Chin had grown up with the knowledge that a vile woman had killed his parents, and that the very people that woman had attempted to stamp out had saved his own life. 

He had joined the St. Ives army at eighteen, wanting nothing more than a chance at bringing the Capellan Confederation out from underneath the heel of Romano Liao.  He never got the chance, though, as Candace Liao, Romano's older sister and the leader of the St. Ives Compact, had shown no inclination toward warring on the soil that had spawned her.  Likewise, Romano, even as insane as she was, was not about to tangle with the might of the Federated Commonwealth, which supported the tiny Compact.

So he had resigned after his three-year term, and headed to Outreach to join a mercenary unit.  By now, the fires that had propelled him into the St. Ives military had cooled, though beneath the surface he still burned to see Romano hung.  After the long trip and nearly a year's worth of fruitless searching, Chin had been about to give up.

Then he'd found the Angels.  Unlike most mercenary units, their leadership didn't seem to care that he had no mech of his own.  After a demonstration and research of his background, they had agreed to have him as part of the unit.  He'd been assigned a GHR-5H Grasshopper, the same mech that he'd piloted in the St. Ives military, and had rapidly shown Colonel Cochren and his XO David Mellert what he could do. 

All he wished now was to travel with the Angels and rise to a command position.  Once there, he told himself, he would have shot at Romano Liao.