Fire-base Delta, Mesa Region,
Tharkad, Donegal Province,
Lyran Alliance

Cairo sat cross-legged in the small sandbag-lined dug-out that served as the command post of Fire-base Delta, looking across the table at Sergeant William Macduff, the gruff old carer NCO who commanded the squad charged with defending the north face of Mount Sinclair.

"I thank you for your help Colonel." Macduff looked dead tired, "We've been cut off for two days now, and those Blakist bastards where about to overrun us."

"I'm glad we could help." Cairo sipped at the instant coffee liberated from his Mech's survival rations, "Funny thing is, when I read the situation report this morning, there was no report of besieged outposts."

"You're not the first to notice that sir: Couple of times now, there have been patrols and outposts like this wiped out because no-one passed their calls for assistance onto friendlily units. If you hand't been so close, this would have been another one in a long list."

"Any idea why?"

"Someone in commaned dosn't want us to win."

"Lord Spendlove?"

"No, not him: I've served under him before, back in the 4th Succession War. He loves the Alliance, loved the Federated Commonwealth too. No, he'd die before betraying Tharkad to those godless sons-of-bitches."

"But someone close to him." Cairo thought for a minuet, "I've had to send Able and Bravo company's back to the city, but I can keep my command lance here long enough for you to pack up and get ready to pull out."

"Thank's for the offer sir, but the last unit to pull out when the situation got this bad where shot as deserters." Macduff shook his head, "No, if my boys and girls have to go out, they'll do it facing the enemy."

"It's ok: I'll take responsibility for it." Cairo smiled, "It'll teach my superiors for giving me too much leeway."

"Spoken like a true Sergeant." Macduff laughed.

"My dad was a Sergeant, in the police, not the army."

"Well, that explains that." Macduff stood, "I'd better go cheer the others up: we always get attacked at sun-up." He walked out into the main part of the outpost, and looked at the 15 or so troops under his command. Most where sat around a fire, relying on the dark mass of Rene Alphonse's Nightstar to stand watch. Macduff looked over to a young corporal who was sat plucking idly at a guitar, and just nodded. Taking a firmer grip of the instrument, the junior NCO started to play.

Macduff started to sing in his low, gravelly voice:

"Here's forty kronnar on the drum,
For those who'll volunteer to come,
To 'list and fight the foe today,
Over the hills and far away."

One by one, and then as a whole, the other soldieries joined in:

"O'er the hills and o'er the main,
Through Tamar, Donegal and Skye,
The Archon commands and we obey,
Over the hills and far away.

When duty calls me I must go,
to stand and face another foe,
But part of me will always stray,
Over the hills and far away.

O'er the hills and o'er the main,
Through Tamar, Donegal and Skye,
The Archon commands and we obey,
Over the hills and far away.

If I should fall to rise no more,
As many comrades did before,
Then ask the pipes and drums to play,
Over the hills and far away.

O'er the hills and o'er the main,
Through Tamar, Donegal and Skye,
The Archon commands and we obey,
Over the hills and far away.

Then fall in lads behind the drum,
With Colours blazing like the sun,
Along the road to come-what-may,
Over the hills and far away.

O'er the hills and o'er the main,
Through Tamar, Donegal and Skye,
The Archon commands and we obey,
Over the hills and far away..."

The singing died down, the young troops seeming more relaxed.

To Be Continued...