Lakland Shipyards, Costa Mesa,
Tharkad, Donegal Province,
Lyran Alliance

"Ok, who's idea was this?" Cairo asked, looking at the new hatch attached to the back of his Templar's head, "It was Davion, wasn't it?"

"Yep." Cameron nodded, "He said it might keep you out of trouble."

"Out of trouble?" Cairo was getting irate, "How the hell is a duel cockpit meant to keep me out of trouble?"

"I thinks that having a dedicated communications and tactical officer along will keep you from doing anything stupid." Cameron leaned back against the gantry's safety rail, "He doesn't know you that well."

"And who's been selected for this dubious honour?" Cairo asked.

"That would be me, Sir." A voice came from behind the two MechWarrior's, "Lt. Sara Bradley reporting for duty, sir."

"What?" Cairo looked round, "I thought you where a MechCommander stationed back at The Triad?"

"I was, but I volunteered for a transfer when it was decided to assign a MechCommander to your unit full time." Bradley handed over a sheet of paper, "My orders come from General Steiner himself."

"You ever in a Mech before?" Cairo asked the young officer as he read her orders, "And I don't just mean a simulator or a parade ground: have you ever seen combat?"

"No, sir." Bradley lowered her head, "I failed my training."

"Well, it looks look's like we're stuck with each other." Cairo held out his hand, "Welcome to the Solaris Irregulars."

"Thank you sir!" Bradley shook the offered hand, her eyes lighting up, "Thank you."

Equatorial Rainforest, Mesa region,

Tharkad, Donegal Province,

Lyran Alliance

The continues drumming of rain falling on his cockpit was driving Cairo crazy. He wanted to let out a carefully constructed string of oaths and curses, but having a young and impressionable officer seated just behind him made that impossible. He gripped the controls tightly, his finger tapping at the control that would normally activate the centre-torso mounted weapons, but the pod-space now held the additional electronics and life-support needed to run the secondary cockpit. His eyes glanced at the weapons system display: his right-arm mounted ER-PPC was fully charged and ready, while the trio of RAC-2's in the left where loaded and locked with the safety on.

"We're approaching the RV point sir." Bradley was concentrating on her screens, trying to put the fact that she was in an 85-ton built magnet out of her mind, "The local militia's 3rd 'Mech Company should be just over the next rise."

"Still nothing on sensors?" Cairo asked, his eyes scanning the dense forest that slowed the Irregulars advance to a crawl.

"Nothing on passive sir." Bradley's finger darted across the main console, "Do you want me to go active?"

"No," Cairo shook his head, "And for the last time: when we're in here, you can call me Steven."

"I'm sorry sir, it just seems a bit strange." Bradley sounded embraced, "I read about your missions at the academy..." She stopped, "Hold on, I'm picking up several reactors, 100-meters out. Could be the 3rd."

"About time too." Cairo cut in the link that connected him to the rest of the 1st Battalion, "OK people, look's like we found the militia unit we where sent to link up with on this sweep, but let's not take any chances: 2nd company take the right, 3rd the left. 1st, follow me up the middle. Come on people, hustle: they 'ain't paying us by the hour!"

"They ain't paying us at all at the moment!" One voice answered back, followed by general laughter from the other MechWarrior's.

"Ok, ok, joke-time's over." Cairo smiled, "Just remember we got two regiments of Wobblies out here somewhere, all looking to spread the word of the blessed Blake our way, written on the end of an LRM: stay sharp." He slowly walked his Templar round a huge tree and down toward a nearby clearing.

"We're almost on top of the contacts sir, I mean Steven." Bradley sounded tense.

"Relax Sara, it's just a routine patrol, not combat." Cairo did his best to calm the young lieutenant's fears, "Militia Company, this is Highball, do you read me over?" The radio remained dead, "I say again: Militia Company, this is Highball, do you read me over?" Still the radio remained dead, just the faint hiss of static, "I don't like the look of this..." Cairo rounded the last tree and his Mech steeped into sunshine: 12 Mech's, all bearing the crest of the Costa Mesa Militia, lay strewn across the clearing, all seemingly undamaged.

"What the hell?" Cairo looked around, his eyes wide.

To Be Continued...