What was once a wave of frustration had by now transformed itself into a storm of despair as Brandon St. Jamais waited impatiently near the base of the mountain with the rest of the infantry squads. The incline meant that armored fighting vehicles as well as BattleMechs would be of little use to them now and the decisive blow would have to be done by his unit of WOB soldiers and LOM commandos. There were by now less than three squads of his men left. Last night's battle had taken a toll on the unit in terms of casualties but each surviving soldier, regardless of his or her standing last night, was now a battle-hardened veteran, each one had tasted and endured the experience of war; that they had seen their brothers and sisters taken away in stretchers or zip-locked in body bags only added to their resolve to see it through. They all knew that the defenders were now reduced to a handful, huddling for a last stand up there in the caves. All wanted in now for the final battle. They would avenge their fallen comrades. And they would spare no mercy.

The latest weather forecast was that another sandstorm was moving into the area within a few hours time. Brandon had never operated this long in a desert environment but he was now beginning to feel at home in it. Just like jungles and forests would have rain, the desert would have dust storms; where the rain of the tropics gave life to its plants, the dust storms would only add to the bleakness and desolation of the desert sands. A cruel but synergistic irony, he thought.

Brandon keyed in his throat mike. "Precentor to 'Mech-One, come in."

"This is 'Mech-One," The slow but steady voice of Adept Amon Goth filled his earpiece, "reading you loud and clear, Precentor."

"Are you in position?"

"Affirmative." That meant that his 'Mech forces had flanked the mountainside. If by chance the defenders could evade his infantry by attempting to make a run in all directions, the BattleMechs, tanks as well as the remaining helicopters would be able to run them down before the enemy could scatter. He had them boxed in, there was no way out.

"Stand by," Brandon ordered, "another dust storm on the way in an hour or so, that's our signal to begin final offensive."

"Roger that, Wilco."

Brandon did not add that the suspected sniper was still out there, near the rocky crags and crevices just below the entrance of the caves. By waiting for the Sherji, his men would be afforded extra cover from the sniper's line of fire, and not to mention that it would give his handpicked team some time to take care of that problem. The Precentor then signaled his men to stay put and get ready; they were about to make the final push. This time they would not wait for nightfall, already the mission had gone on far too long already and he needed to end this now. All they needed to do was endure few more minutes of bloody combat and he would be back home in Terra, watching his vidtapes and waiting for the next assignment. He wanted to get out of this place as soon as it was done, his older bother Cameron St. Jamais would probably give him a dressing down as to why it took so long and his high casualty list but it wouldn't matter; once he had the datadisk, all would be forgiven.

Chifune Kishikawa moved her left knee up slightly higher as she sat, wedged in between two large boulders as she kept observing the base of the mountain below her. Already the sandstorm had begun to cast wispy shadows that made the spotting of the Blakist enemy all the more harder for her. That she had only two rounds left in the sole remaining magazine of the Minolta 9000 sniper rifle only added to her adversity; a second, less accurate automatic rifle was slung over her left shoulder, although it had a less effective range, she had two full magazines to go with that. She had also tried to test the Minolta's scope on it earlier that day but it was a poor match because of the upper sights of the assault rifle did not have the exact match of the Minolta. Anyway, she would make do with what she had, as always. She had a duty to do- Giri, the Japanese concept of obligation, demanded it.

As the Sherji began to build up in intensity, throwing small vortexes of sand into the hot, arid air, two men kept creeping forward, just ahead of the main body of Blakists. They were a hunter-killer team assigned to the task of removing the elusive sniper once and for all. The first man, Rogelio Chavez, had been pulled out of the crashed Pinto helicopter the night before. He had a sprained ankle and a bruised back but even more so, his pride was deeply hurt and his rage was unabated after seeing many of his LOM colleagues die. Chavez felt that he had a score to settle with this sniper, he felt like a big-game hunter going up against a another, identical hunter, the prize was both bragging rights and the thought of a job well done. The second man was also a LOM operator, but instead of carrying a sniper rifle he was equipped with an electronic compass and macro-binoculars; he would serve as the spotter for Chavez, who would then make the killing blow. Both men had worked with each other before and both knew each other's strengths and weaknesses intimately; they stalked as one and they would kill as one.

Chavez preferred to bide his time but it was not on his side; as soon as the dust storm picked up, the WOB infantry squads would begin the attack. He had to take out the sniper before it could pick away at the troops. The LOM operator crawled by the inch, using his high-powered scope to check for any inconsistencies along the contours of the crags. If it was night all he had to do was to switch to infrared sights to focus on any artificial light in the shadows of the rocks but since it was broad daylight, everything was of monochrome color, the color of the desert. Using his scope, Chavez carefully scanned each crack and niche in every boulder, if he spotted something that was not part of the background then it must be the sniper.

She could normally sense it when the enemy was near; it was one of her gifts. Already the hairs at the back of her neck were tingling, despite being infused with the sands of the desert. Chifune carefully tucked her legs in until she was at a prone position, her stomach lying on the cool pile of rocks she had placed there a few hours before. The two boulders that she was astride from had a perfect view of the mountain base below; if the enemy were going to attack, they would be coming through here. She had not taken a bath since they had crash-landed on the planet over a week ago, her entire body and clothing was now practically one with the desert. Sensing some movement at the rocky crags in front of her, The Otomo bodyguard began to sight using the scope on the sniper rifle.

He sensed that the enemy sniper was close by as well as he inched slowly forward while lying as flat on his stomach as he could. Chavez had forgone the hockey helmet in preference to the kheffiyah and so it allowed him a greater degree of camouflage in the desert. The minutes felt like hours as the sweat would dribble from his forehead and would sting his eyes, taking his concentration off the scope while he wiped away the liquid salt from his brow.

Brandon looked at his watch again in silent frustration. They needed to go in now, the longer they waited, the worse the consequences would be. They needed to finish this quickly. With a wave of his hand, he signaled the infantry squads to begin moving as he got up and started a slow walk towards the rocky incline.

Chifune quickly sensed an increased activity below as a large number of blurred but distinct forms began to appear at the base of the mountain. They looked to be coming in dumb, she thought. As the minutes passed, she could begin to see the details of their battle fatigues and the kind of weapons that they carried. They had now entered into the extreme range of the Minolta 9000 and if she only had several full magazines with the special armor-piercing explosive rounds that the sniper rifle used, this would then be a very short fight. At this point, once she used up the last two rounds, she would have to wait another while until they got to within range of the backup rifle that she carried. Although the scope would still give her unmatched accuracy, the combat ranges would be level between them.

Rogelio Chavez made a silent curse as he heard the order to advance on his receiver. He needed more time to root out that sniper but he also realized that the mission as a whole had already ran past their allotted time. Forgoing adversity, the LOM sniper stared to crawl faster while making less detailed observations.

The desert winds were becoming angrier as the sand began to blow around them. The first stirrings of the Sherji was beginning to be felt as the infantry squads began to trot forward. Brandon had decided to lead first; already he could see that the morale of his men was faltering and he needed to show them that he was willing to brave what they had endured the night before.

"Follow me! To victory!" With a wave of his hand, Brandon extolled his troops as he began to race up the rocks towards where the base of the mountain was just as the wind began to howl. His men, seeing that their leader was going up first, scrambled to catch up with him.

The spotter too sensed the renewed urgency around him as he rapidly began to scan his binoculars left and right, wriggling up from a pile of nearby boulders. If he could find the sniper now, all might not be lost, he thought as he began to get up on his knees.

Sensing a brief flash of reflective illumination at her left flank, Chifune quickly swiveled the rifle's bipod in that direction. As she sighted through the khaki haze, she noticed a crouching figure holding a pair of binoculars. It was a spotter! Quickly sighting the enemy's head on her targeting reticule, Chifune squeezed the trigger.

The 7.62mm slug from the Minolta 9000 instantly blew the spotter's face off and came out of the side of his neck as the LOM commando pitched backwards into the crag. She had one round left.

Chavez heard a gurgle from his earphone as he grimaced in mental anguish. He needed to kill that enemy sniper now. The LOM operator kept his composure as he continued to scan the area with his scope. Judging from where his colleague got shot, he realized that the shot had had to come from between two boulders less than fifty meters in front of him.

Chifune quickly became alarmed. She had killed a spotter so now it was certain that there was another sniper in the area. But the question was, would the hunter-killer team move closely with each other or did the spotter try to veer off in order to mask the real area where the enemy sniper lay, possibly catching her in a pincer move? Chifune guessed the former as she began to scan the area where she killed the spotter nearby.

"Come on!" Brandon shouted amid the swirling wind as he kept racing up the base of the mountain. His men were right behind him as they readied their rifles.

As a number of soldiers began to stream into her sights, Chifune quickly recognized one of the men leading the squads. She had seen the trivid of him and she knew it was none other than Brandon St. Jamais, the entire unit's commanding officer. She had one bullet left, why not for him? Time to end this now, Chifune thought as she leveled her breathing while putting his forehead into the targeting reticule of her scope.

That was it! Chavez's heart nearly leapt out from his armored vest as he saw the glint of a scope peering out from between the two boulders. Judging from the noises of the men behind him, he knew that he only had one shot and needed to make it count. Although he couldn't see the head behind the scope, there was only one, very risky, alternative left to him. As his breathing became almost trance-like, Chavez fired his rifle.

Just as Chifune started to squeeze the Minolta's trigger, an object seemed to block the view on her scope for a brief millisecond. The 7.62mm round then smashed through the lenses of the sniper scope and entered her right eye. Chifune felt like something poked her in the eye and then felt nothing at all as the bullet passed through her optic nerve, slashing through the cerebral cortex and shattered into several pieces inside the base of her skull.

The Minolta 9000 clattered to the side as she fell backwards into the cool, rocky crevasse, twitching in her death throes as her blood and brains became one with the desert sands.