AUTHOR'S NOTES: Okay. This was getting way too long, so before I get to the big 'Mech fight (next chapter, I promise), I had to lay down the groundwork.
I don't know if a combat drop has ever been written about in a Battletech novel, so I kind of had to guess. I know drop packs have jumpjets for those 'Mechs that don't have them, but I figured that wouldn't be enough to slow them down.
Since it's kind of hard to draw a map via text, if you're curious as to where everyone is on a map, bring up Google Earth or Google Maps, or your handy road atlas, and focus on western Virginia. I swapped the names of the cities of Roanoke and Lynchburg, but mostly everything else is the same. Cold Harbour is Richmond (the real Cold Harbor is just northeast of the city), and Greenbrier would be located roughly about the same spot as the little town of Montvale, VA. Of course, the distances are much longer.
REVIEWER'S CORNER: 4477: Heh heh heh.
Kat: Senefa is a bit of both: she's very idealistic (that's why she left the Jade Falcons) and a bit naïve.
Green Knight (or his sister): Thank you for the kind words. As to why the Shruiken uses an XL engine instead of Endo-Steel, the Sentinels can't manufacture Endo-Steel, which in 3049 (when the SHR-1ST was built) was very uncommon. Ferro-Fibrous armor doesn't save enough weight. As for Bien's Victor, I have some ideas.
Panzerfaust and Fraser: Clanfolk are smart. Anybody can beat a stupid opponent. You can have the best equipment in the world and still lose. As for Winson, I don't think he has too much to worry about…Athena, on the other hand…
Mosin: I liked writing Winson as a sneaky bastard. Natasha Kerensky would've been better, but everyone knows she's sneaky; Sheila would've turned around on the spot if the Black Widow had come up on the screen. (Luckily, she's back on Strana Mechty.) I go into more detail as to why the Fusiliers bore the brunt of Cavell Malthus' wrath. Like Romano and Bonner, he couldn't get who he wanted, so he went after the next best thing…
SulliMike: Yeah, I know you didn't cut and paste. Just giving ya some heck.
STORY SOUNDTRACK: "The Final Countdown" by Europe; "Contradanza" by Vanessa-Mae; the theme from "She Wore a Yellow Ribbon." I likes me some old John Wayne flicks. (Oh, and the song Sheila references is "Invincible" by Pat Benetar.)
SDS Minerva
Vantaa, Clan Wolf Occupation Zone
6 September 3051
"Max, I've got a problem," Sheila told her husband.
"What's that?"
"I think the butterflies in my stomach just turned into aerofighters."
Max laughed and hugged his wife. "Ah, Sheila, don't worry about it. I don't think we're going to run into opposition at all."
"You believe Winson?"
"Sure."
"Hm." Sheila shrugged. "I'm actually more worried about the drop. Nothing like climbing into 75 tons of steel and throwing it out into open air. Whee."
"We've done it before," Max reassured her.
"Yeah, in training."
"No difference." Max kissed her forehead as she faced him. Three blasts from a horn was followed by an announcement from Captain Baron for the MechWarriors to man their 'Mechs. "Well, that's it."
"Yes." Sheila stood on her tiptoes to kiss Max, her hands snaking up behind his head to pull him to you. They held the kiss for a long time, knowing this could be their last. As Sheila started to get a little too passionate, Max broke the kiss and whispered, "You'd better stop before I blow it off."
Sheila laughed and gave him a peck on the nose. Both of them were clad in the light MechWarrior uniform—helmet padding, cooling vest, shorts, boots, and nothing else. It didn't leave much to the imagination. Slowly, they left each other, and then Sheila turned away and ran to her 'Mech, not looking back. Max sighed and went off to his own machine.
As techs worked to disconnect the umbilicals and hoses that connected the Shruiken to the DropShip, Sheila climbed the ladder as fast as she could. She sealed the hatch behind her, wincing as her ears popped from pressurization, and strapped into her seat. Her hands flew over the switches, bringing the BattleMech to life. Her artificial arm was responding well; she was able to do most things without trouble. The real litmus test was coming: combat. Sheila had practiced every chance she could, but her arm still wasn't responding as fast as a real one would. A half-second slow could get her killed, but there was no point in worrying about that now. She put on her neurohelmet, connected the radio leads to the seat, then plugged in the cooling vest. She steeled herself as the supercooled liquid raced through the hoses on the vest, which felt very much like someone was dropping ice cubes down her bra. The feeling passed soon enough and Sheila squirmed around, trying to find her comfort zone in the seat. Remembering something, she reached over and flipped two switches, arming the explosive charges that would blow the Shruiken's head free of the torso should she have to eject.
She pushed a red button on the instrument panel. The Shruiken's computer came to life, and in her earphones she heard its voice. It was flat and toneless, but Sheila always thought it sounded like Nicia Caii anyway. "Shruiken 003 online. Proceed with voice identification."
"Sheila Allegra Arla-Vlata."
"Voiceprint confirmed. Authorization code."
"We can't afford to be innocent," Sheila said clearly, "stand up and face the enemy." Every MechWarrior used their own personal code to keep someone from stealing their 'Mech. Sheila used one from an old song.
"Code confirmed. Welcome aboard, Sheila. Let's kick some ass." It was somewhat immature, but Sheila always felt a thrill when her computer gave its rote reply, programmed in by Nicia. She reverently patted the instrument panel. The Heads-Up Display switched on, displaying pertinent information on the windscreen along with golden crosshairs. She moved the arms around and found they worked fine, though the left arm was too stiff. Oh well, Sheila thought, the only weapon I have in there are my shruikens. Shouldn't need those…I hope.
She keyed the radio. "Snowbird to Homeplate. How am I reading?"
"Five square, Snowbird. Assume jump positions."
"Roger that." Sheila pushed down gently on the pedals, and the Shruiken began walking forward. It moved smoothly enough, even in the increasing buffeting of the DropShip as it began penetrating Vantaa's stratosphere. She moved her head around, causing the 'Mech to do the same, and saw that her lance was moving out. She gave them a quick wave—jerky though it was—with her left arm, then walked the short distance to the drop tunnel. As commander, she would be the first out. The buffeting increased, to the point where Sheila had to put an arm out to anchor the Shruiken in the tunnel. "Getting a bit of turbulence here, Snowbird," Baron told her. "Hold on."
Sheila only nodded, despite the fact that Baron couldn't see her. The old fear crawled back up inside and took up residence in her stomach. She felt cold sweat break out over her skin and her legs began to tremble. Oh God, not again, she thought in terror. She thought that after the torture session, she would fear nothing again, but now she was suddenly on the verge of a panic attack.
"Drop in ten seconds, stand by, Snowbirds." The buffeting smoothed out, but Sheila couldn't stop trembling. "Five seconds…"
Stop shaking! Sheila yelled at herself.
"Four…"
The Minerva's launch door slid open. Two steps down the tunnel, barely twenty paces for a man, lay nothing but clouds and blue sky. They were at 55,000 feet and descending.
"Three…"
"Come on, come on…" Sheila wondered if her trembling was fear or excitement.
"Two…"
Swallowing, Sheila braced the 'Mech against the sides of the tunnel. The wind howled through the door.
"One."
God be with us.
"Drop, drop, drop!" Baron exclaimed. The red light next to the door switched to green.
Some MechWarriors took a running start out the launch chute, but Sheila just let the Shruiken fall forward. Instantly, the slipstream grabbed her and threw her out and away from the Minerva. She quickly moved all four limbs at once, getting the 'Mech into the fall position, legs fully extended and arms held out, bent slightly, face down, the same way a human paratrooper would do it. Since her 'Mech had more wind resistance and less velocity than the DropShip, it accelerated past her like a metal cliff. As she watched, 'Mechs began to stream out of the four jump doors by lances: Kaatha's Griffin, Marcus Drax's Phoenix Hawk, and Felisanna's Wolfhound all appeared below her. No sort of formation was attempted or was even feasible. The entire drop took seven minutes to complete: now there were 29 'Mechs falling through the sky, spread out over 15,000 feet of altitude.
Now came the tough part. Getting out of the DropShip, as Sheila's Nagelring instructor had told her, was as easy as falling off your bicycle. Now the problem was one of simple Newtonian physics: finding some way of slowing down 75 tons of falling BattleMech that was traveling at several hundred feet a second. Luckily, Sheila did not have to worry about either of the twin terrors of MechWarriors in combat drops: bad weather and enemy Aerofighters. No sane MechWarrior dropped into anything but the mildest rainstorm: a thunderstorm would at best throw a 'Mech hopelessly off course for the drop zone and at worst literally tear it apart in high winds and lightning strikes. What all MechWarriors hated was the fact that they were completely helpless in the drop. There was no way to dodge and even firing their weapons could throw them off and send them into a lethal spin. It was easy pickings for any enterprising enemy fighters; fighter pilots dreamed of such easy kills. Sheila knew the Snowbirds had launched their five fighters earlier and that they were out there, but it was a pitifully few number against what the Wolves could put up. The only other consolation was that it was an atmospheric drop. A suborbital drop sealed the 'Mechs inside metal cocoons that protected them from being burned up, but sometimes those cocoons failed, or the DropShip got the vector wrong: too steep and the cocoon burned up anyway, along with the 'Mech; too shallow and the 'Mech skipped across the atmosphere and was flung into orbit. Usually in that case the MechWarrior ran out of air before a rescue could be mounted. Those that survived became charter members of the Hopscotch Club, an international fraternity of MechWarriors, but it was an exclusive club no MechWarrior really wanted to be part of.
She fell through scattered cirrus, which would've been actually quite beautiful if she wasn't terrified. To her surprise, she saw Kaatha put her Griffin through a complete somersault, the old veteran showing off. Luckily none of the newer MechWarriors tried to emulate her. Her computer beeped for her attention, and showed she was passing through 15,000 feet: now she could see the ground rushing up to meet her. Green carpets of forest stretched out all around her; in the far distance was a range of mountains and closer, the Massanutten Valley. She had no desire to see that again. Fortunately, the dropzone was easy to see: a small airstrip just south of Greenbrier village. Even better, one of the Rangers had set smoke pots at either end of the zone, which sent orange smoke drifting among the trees and giving the MechWarriors a sense of the wind direction. It was blowing to the north. Her computer beeped again and a counter appeared on her HUD. Sheila tightened her straps and braced.
Attached to the back of all the 'Mechs was a block of metal. Doors burst open and a huge expanse of nylon burst forth, held in place by myomer cables. The nylon rapidly unfolded into a parachute with a shock that sent Sheila back against her seat, hard. The straps kept her in place. The Shruiken was jerked upright. She quickly looked around and saw good chutes on everyone in sight; another terror for dropping MechWarriors was a streamer or no chute at all. At that point it was best to eject and let the 'Mech take its chances when it hit the ground. Still, several yards of nylon was not going to slow down 75 tons very well, so when the altimeter counted past 6000 feet, Sheila stomped down on the pedals. Her jumpjets fired, plasma vented from the engine. She was pressed into the seat with the force of five times Terran normal gravity, but her velocity slowed nicely. Sheila abruptly realized she was off course, about a mile north of the zone, and heading for the trees, but there was nothing for it--the chute wasn't steerable. The Shruiken still came down easily enough, crashing through the trees and alighting on the ground without falling over. Sheila flipped a switch that blew the parachute pack off the back of the 'Mech, got her bearings, and started heading for the dropzone. As she did so, she kept an eye on the sky. The last thing she needed was having a 'Mech fall on her.
The rest of the Snowbirds came down on the dropzone without incident, though a few fell over when they landed, to minor damage and major cursing. Though they came down widely separated, each lance had a rally point and made towards it. Radio messages were tightbeamed to each other, and finally the battalion looked to be ready. All the lance commanders checked in with Sheila and Elfa, and then Elfa reported that her company was ready. "No stragglers?" Sheila asked.
"None."
That was good to hear. "Okay, Brownoak, move out and take the DropPort. You run into trouble, call."
"Roger that. Out." Elfa's Loki waved one of its arms at Sheila, then towards the west. Her twelve 'Mechs formed up behind her in a wedge. Both Tooriu in his Awesome and Senefa in her Thunderbolt raised their arms as they went past as well. When they were gone, Sheila felt a little lonely. "Tiger One to Snowbird..recommend we move out," Marion prompted.
"Yeah…roger. Let's go." They left the airfield and moved north.
It was mostly forest until they reached Greenbriar. Despite the 'Mechs making enough noise to wake the dead by crashing through the woods, it was still eerily quiet. Even the major roads they passed were empty. On several occasions, Sheila raised her 'Mech's hand to call a halt, so that she could listen on her external headphones. There was nothing. Her Beagle Probe she kept on as well, but it also turned up nothing. After half an hour, they broke from the woods and reached an open plain. The village of Greenbrier, with an imposing castle-like hotel in the distance, lay ahead—but there was no recognition signal. It was still very quiet.
"Thorn, Snowbird, move forward, skirmish formation," Sheila ordered. Tessya's Recon Lance broke from the main group, spread out, and moved forward in a line—Tessya's Wasp, Philip Scott's Valkyrie, Megan O'Reilly's Wolfhound, and Frederick Matria's much-modified Chameleon. Max's Heavy Lance took up position on the right, with Marion's Assaults on the left; Sheila's Command Lance waited behind. Sheila stole a glance at the squat Catapult next to her. She had finally met Fabian Cynmar, the Liao expatriate, two days before. He was tall, stringy, and had something of a hunted look about him, which was understandable, considering what he had done to House Liao. Now she was less worried about him being a traitor or spy as she was him locking up in combat. Still, he had done well in the drop and easily maintained the pace, despite the fact that his 'Mech lacked arms and had to shoulder its way through the forest. He had the door open on the starboard missile pod, exposing the five snouts of the huge Arrow IV artillery missiles; the port pod held the guidance array.
"Thorn Four. Movement, right flank." All weapons instantly trained to Matria's right. It was a jeep, moving out from behind a building. It stopped in clear view, then a figure in the back stood and began frantically waving the fist-and-sunburst flag of the Federated Commonwealth. Sheila waved back. "Thorn, move into the town. Tiger and I will back you up. Canis, I want you to swing east and come in on their flank, just in case." Max acknowledged and moved in that direction. Sheila cautiously moved forward, licking dry lips: it would be all to easy to be ambushed here.
She needn't have worried. Though the town was still mostly silent, save for a few inhabitants staring at the 'Mechs as they went past, the Greenbrier Hotel's courtyard erupted into cheers when the Snowbirds came into view, people frantically waving both FedCom flags and the green-and-yellow St. Andrew's cross flags of Vantaa. Sheila noticed the trenches and heavy weapons emplacements around the hotel: such a defense would not hold long, but the Vantaa Rangers had obviously decided that, if they couldn't be rescued, they would die fighting.
Sheila's Shruiken was mobbed by people as soon as she brought it to a halt. She climbed down and was practically dragged off her 'Mech by a cheering mob who carried her on their shoulders around the circular courtyard, as if she was a conquering heroine. Sheila was embarrassed more than exhilarated, but all the Snowbirds were being treated as liberators. The women were showering the Snowbirds' male MechWarriors with kisses and hugs, and Sheila felt a pang of jealousy at the sight of Max being glomped by several girls not yet out of their teens.
Finally, she was deposited in front of the hotel, where a beaming red-haired man rushed out and pumped her right hand mercilessly. "Commander Arla-Vlata?" he shouted over the din.
"That's me," Sheila yelled back.
"Thank God you're here. Come inside, please." Sheila did as she was asked. It was unseasonably warm outside; Vantaa was supposed to be in winter. Inside was pleasant and cool and certainly less crowded. As they walked through the revolving door, Sheila was surprised to find six officers drawn up in a line. All snapped to attention and saluted with crisp, parade-ground style fashion. Sheila returned the salute, feeling remarkably dumpy: the Rangers were in immaculate uniforms with creases so sharp they could cut, whereas she was sweaty, tired, and basically half-naked. "It's good to see you Commander," the redhead said. "I don't think we've formally met. My name is Major John Keynes. I was on the rescue mission, but you were pretty out of it when we boarded the Minerva."
"Then I should be the one thanking you," Sheila told him. She thumbed back towards the crowd. "What's all this about?"
"You're liberating us," Keynes replied.
"No, no," Sheila corrected, "we're rescuing you. We can't liberate Vantaa with an understrength battalion."
"We know," Keynes said, "but you don't understand. The last three months have been hellish. The Clans…well, the Wolves haven't been brutal, mind, and more or less correct in their behavior, but they're still invaders. They still forced people from their homes to barrack their own troops. The Jade Falcons have been relatively quiet, but we'll never forgive them for Front Royal."
"Wait." Sheila held up a hand. "The Jade Falcons are still on Vantaa?"
"Yes. They've been mainly operating around Charlotte. They haven't moved against us—the Wolves have massed around Cold Harbour." Keynes smiled. "We heard that Winson gave you free passage. That's what set off the party."
"How did you know that?"
Keynes' smile grew wider. "He used the telephone lines to tell the small Elemental garrison in Lynchburg to pull back. Seems he didn't really want to fight us. He also doesn't know we've got every line between his commands and the 16th Battle down in Rissala tapped."
Something's not adding up, Sheila thought. Winson's no fool. He would figure out pretty quick that the Rangers would tap the telephones. Hell, they taught that to us at the Nagelring: assume that, on an enemy planet, that every major communications network has been compromised. Either he wanted the Rangers to know we were on our way, which makes sense, or something else... "What Jade Falcon units are still onplanet?" Sheila asked.
Keynes' face turned angry. "The Butchers of Front Royal—the 133rd Falcon Fusiliers. We'd like to see some justice meted out—"
"Winson!" Sheila shouted. "That Wolf son of a bitch!" She instantly turned and headed out the doors, then stopped just short. "Major, get your people ready to go, now!"
"But the Wolves—they granted hegira, which we know is—"
"Yes! The Wolves did! Winson's suckered us both—he's got the Falcons doing his dirty work! You can bet the next thing he did was to radio the Fusiliers to tell us where we are. How far is Charlotte from here?"
"About 160 kilometers."
"Shit!" If the Fusiliers moved fast, they could be at Greenbrier in three hours. Winson had obviously waited some time after he had talked to Sheila, because the Jade Falcons would have been waiting for them otherwise. Unless they were… Sheila ran out the door. Her eyes frantically searched the crowd and found Frederick Matria, who was sitting on his 'Mech, drinking a beer. Sheila forced her way through the still-partying Rangers and climbed up the Chameleon's side. Matria saw her coming and quickly put the beer away. "Sorry, boss lady, it was just one beer—"
"Never mind that! Did Elfa make it to Lynchburg?"
"Sure. She checked in just a few minutes ago. Took the DropPort without a shot. The Minerva's already there."
"Correct passwords and countersigns?"
"Absolutely. Why?"
Sheila breathed a sigh of relief. Elfa hadn't been ambushed, and there was no way the Falcons, even if they had captured her, could have broken her that quickly. She slapped Matria's knee. "Fred, get on the horn and tell her all around defense, now."
"What the hell's going on?"
"The Wolves played us like a fucking violin, that's what's going on. Tell everyone that's still in their 'Mechs to stay there. Orders are coming. As soon as you've done that, grab your pack and meet me at the front door to the hotel. Go!" Sheila climbed back down the rope ladder and dropped the last fifteen feet to the ground. People instantly began to mob her, and she yelled for quiet. Gradually, the din died down. "Listen to me!" she shouted. "There's a Jade Falcon Cluster on its way, and it could be here any minute!" There was an audible, collective gasp at that, as well as screams. "Rangers, report to your company commanders! Snowbird officers on me! MechWarriors, man your 'Mechs! Everyone else, clear out! Move!" As soon as she had said it, Sheila regretted it, but luckily no one panicked, or if they did, they did so in a generally orderly fashion. The festive air dissipated like fog on a summer morning. Sheila easily made her way through the crowd now. Already, Max, Tessya, and Marion were waiting at the steps to the hotel's front door. So was Keynes. "Listen," she told the Ranger, "I don't know how much time we have, if any. The other half of the battalion's taken the DropPort with no resistance, so the Falcons aren't in Lynchburg—"
"We'd know it if they were," Keynes interrupted. He put a hand on her shoulder. "Listen, Commander. We've got friends scattered all over this area. I've already got men on the phones. We should know within half an hour where the Falcons are."
"We may not have half an hour…but thanks. In the meantime, get your men organized. You have transportation already ready, right?" Keynes nodded. "Okay, good. Get them to the trucks or whatever, and prepare to move out. We leave in ten minutes. Anyone who isn't ready gets left behind. Read me?"
Keynes shook his head frantically. "Commander, we have to load these people too!" He motioned at the crowd.
"What?"
"They're our families." He pointed at a rather attractive woman in her mid-thirties, also with red hair, who had two twin girls literally holding onto her skirt. Sheila recognized them, having seen them in the crowd: the kids had run up to Marcus Drax and nearly buried him in flowers. "That's my wife Anna and my daughters Louisa and Maritsa. I'm not leaving them."
"Oh my God." Sheila put a hand to a rapidly aching forehead. "Do you have transportation for them, too?"
"Of course. Plenty. Enough even for our luggage…though we had planned to make several trips…" Keynes' voice trailed off. "Can you get that many people aboard an Overlord-class?"
Sheila looked to Marion, who had more experience in this sort of thing. She spit out a cherry pit. "Yeah, even the luggage. Cargo bay's empty. But we don't have time, and I'm already not too keen on shepherding all these people through Indian country!"
Sheila shook her head. "Tell everyone to leave anything they can't carry on their backs. Luggage, computers, everything stays behind. Even the heavy weapons. Small arms only—SRM launchers are okay, but nothing bigger."
"We've got crew-served autocannons out there; they can be hooked up to the trucks—"
"There's no time, dammit!" Sheila's temper snapped. "For all we know, the fucking Falcons are coming over the hill right now! Major, you have your orders. If you want your family to live through this, you'll get to obeying them! Clear?"
"Yes, Commander," Keynes said in a subdued voice. Sheila stabbed a finger towards the hotel, dismissing him even as she turned her back on him. "Frackencrack," she said quietly, as soon as Keynes was out of earshot. "Like we've got the time for that shit." Sheila took a deep breath. "Okay, Marion, Tess, Max. We've got to plan our way out of this."
Marion nodded. "Elfa's in good shape. She's got a full company and the Minerva's guns, plus two platoons of SLI. She can hold the DropPort for awhile, especially if the locals decide to pitch in."
"They won't," Max said. "Not after Front Royal. They'll recognize the 'Mechs and that damn banshee emblem." He chuckled wryly at Sheila. "It's a shame Senefa's not here. She'd be pretty happy about this."
"She probably will be. Damn Winson! I knew this was too easy." Matria came pounding up to them, puffing. Once he had gotten his breath, he said, "Elfa's got your orders. She says just holler if you need the fighters. She'll hold until relieved."
"Bless Elfa anyway," Tessya grinned. She knelt and unfolded a map. "Way I see it, we've got two choices to get to Lynchburg. Either Highway 227, which is a straight shot, or south on Highway 122 and cut west on Secondary Road 24 into the city…" She paused as Keynes returned. He looked at the map, bent down, and quickly circled a dot on the map with a pencil. "We just heard from one of our people," he told them. "The Fusiliers are here, at Bedford. He says he's been watching them for the past hour. They got into Bedford a few hours ago."
"Not good," Max observed. "That's only ten kilometers off." He rubbed his chin. "Sheila, that doesn't make any sense. They would've seen us drop. Ten kilometers is a half-hour march, even for an assault 'Mech at a walk. They'd be here by now—they would've gotten here before us."
"What's their positions? Are they all concentrated there?" Sheila asked Keynes.
"Not according to our guy." At her raised eyebrow, he reassured her, "I've known this man for ten years, Commander. I trust him. He wouldn't rat us out."
"Not what I'm worried about, but go on."
"He says that the Fusiliers also have 'Mechs here and here." He circled two towns north and south of Bedford, Thaxton and Moneta. Sheila looked closer, traced the map briefly with her fingers, then looked up at her commanders. All of them began to smile. "What?" Keynes asked.
"Nothing, Major. Seems Carmin Winson of the Wolves is a bigger SOB than I gave him credit for. Did you Rangers hole up in Roanoke for awhile?" At Keynes' nod, Sheila actually had to laugh softly. "That bastard. He told the Falcons the wrong place." Max sniffed a laugh, Tessya snickered, and Marion let out a whoop.
"I don't get it." Keynes looked thoroughly confused.
"If your man is right, then the Fusiliers are drawn up in all-around defense. They're expecting us to come east to pull you people out of Roanoke, not Greenbrier."
"But they saw the Snowbirds drop! We watched you come down!"
"Yep. And now the Falcons are wondering why we haven't hit them." Sheila looked skyward. "That's not going to last. Do we know who's the new commander of the Fusiliers?"
Keynes was grim. "I'd thought that was plain. Star Colonel Athena Henderson."
At the mention of her name, Sheila felt her arm twitch, this time in remembered pain. She felt her face flush, and the beginnings of rage—of what Sheila had promised herself slipping in and out of consciousness in the Sharpsburg prison, or the Minerva, or the hospital on Tharkad: that someday, somehow, Athena would pay. Stop it, she told herself. Didn't killing Bonner teach you a lesson? You didn't feel good then, did you?
Bonner didn't abuse me, she answered herself. Even now, Sheila heard Athena's mocking laughter, the slaps, the agony of the ropes, the terror that the drugs had induced, and worst of all, the despair that it was all just the beginning, that this would be her world, and she would never see her husband again. Bonner had conspired to set her up and deliver her to the Falcons, but Athena had taken sadistic pleasure in driving Sheila insensate with pain. She took a deep breath to get control of herself. Max was staring worriedly at her.
"Sure would be nice to repay that bitch in her own coin," Tessya said.
"Yeah. But not here." Sheila turned to Keynes. "Henderson's a devil, but she's not stupid. She'll have fighters up before long, if she doesn't already." Sheila looked skyward: the clouds had thickened slightly, promising moisture later, but they were thin enough that a fighter could be lurking there even now—and infrared sensors could penetrate even that. "She'll figure it out quick enough that the Wolves have snookered her."
Sheila flipped over the map, took the pencil from Keynes, and made a quick sketch. "We've got four lances. Tessya, I want you out front as skirmishers. Max, we'll put you in on the south flank. I'll take the north. Marion, you bring up the rear. I'll detach Marcus Drax in his P-Hawk to your lance. That'll give us Beagle Probe everywhere but the south flank, but Max, it's mostly rolling hills south. You should be able to see them if they hit us from that direction. The trucks will be in the center. We'll have to maintain a speed of around fifty kph—Tessya, you can move ahead a bit, but don't lose the convoy. In case the bitch tries to have her aerofighters strafe our ass, we'll have to stick close to give overlapping fields of fire. No fighter jock is going to strafe a bunch of trucks if it means hanging it out to get shot off by sixteen 'Mechs. Any questions?"
Tessya raised a finger. "No objections, but maybe I should take the rear."
Marion shook her head. "No, Tess. Fifty kph is top end for most of my assaults. Falcons are likely to hit us first. If they start creeping up on us, I can start picking them off with my Gausses and LRMs." Besides her and Alfred Dennison's mighty Perenniums, Marion also had Troms Fiordur's Banshee and Ted van Kull's Longbow.
"Okay." Tessya nodded. "But if you run into trouble, I'd like to circle around and help out."
"We'll wait and see if you need to." Sheila stretched to her full height. "Major, get ready to move them out." He saluted and was gone.
Sheila sent the others back to her 'Mechs, exchanging a hug and a quick kiss with Max before he left. The loading of the trucks was orderly; the Rangers had obviously done this before and had it down to a science. There was some crying, and a few seemed reluctant to give up their possessions, but at last it was done. No one elected to stay behind. At Keynes' request, the hotel staff went back to their homes as well; the last thing he wanted to happen was the Falcons to think—correctly—that the staff had helped the Rangers and give Henderson something to murder. As it was, Greenbrier might not escape Front Royal's fate, though Sheila hoped that Carmin Winson might give Henderson pause. Winson, for all his trickery, didn't seem like the type that would stand by and watch.
At last, it was finished. Keynes climbed into the lead truck, took up position behind the pintle mounted machine gun, and looked down at Sheila. "Sorry we couldn't throw you a party," he said.
Sheila smiled. "We'll throw a big one on Sudeten."
"You bet." He leaned down and they shook hands. Then the truck started off and Sheila ran for her 'Mech. When she was back aboard and "reconnected" to her Shruiken, they started off. Tessya walked her Wasp past Sheila and tightbeamed a radio message to her commander. "Who ever heard of an Indian leading a wagon train?" Despite the seriousness of the moment, Sheila laughed long and hard over that one. "Wagons, ho," Sheila said to herself, then turned and took up position on the convoy on the northern side. There were thirty kilometers to go.
"And you are quite sure of this?" Athena Henderson stood with her hands on her hips, looking at the fighter pilot's image on the visiphone. She had never liked fighter pilots—Clan engineering had given them larger eyes than the norm and slight stature to resist G-forces, making their heads look out of proportion to their body, which she found grotesque. It was their attitude most of all. Fighter pilots usually thought they shined brighter than the sun, and a pilot was never more happier—or so they claimed—than when they were dueling other fighter pilots. Getting them to bomb and strafe the enemy was always a task.
"I am quite sure, ovkhan," Star Commander Gunther Kyle shot back angrily. "I spotted at least two lances of 'Mechs in the town of Greenbrier. Two of them were of a make I did not recognize. I also saw about a Cluster's worth of trucks and other vehicles."
"You should have gone down for a closer look, quiaff?"
"I did not want to spoil the chance for surprise, Star Colonel." In actuality, Kyle had decided that he had better things to do than get blown out of the sky. Even fighter pilots gave assault 'Mechs wide berths, and his Bashkir was a light fighter, not armored enough to take more than a few hits. Besides, if Star Colonel Athena Henderson wanted to find out what was in Greenbrier, she could by the Kerenskys damn well go and look herself. The Fusiliers had resented her being appointed to command the Cluster anyway, and knew it was just one more punishment the enraged saKhan Cavell Malthus had decided to heap upon the disgraced Cluster. Senefa Malthus may have turned traitor, but Kyle missed her nonetheless. She at least knew how to handle her pilots.
"Very well," Athena sighed. "I want you to keep tabs on them, Star Commander. Once your fighter is refuelled, go back up and shadow them."
"Aff, ovkhan." Kyle signed off before she could dismiss him.
Athena went back to her Thor, where Star Captain Kazumi waited. Though she had liked her Masakari more, the idea of taking Senefa Malthus' old 'Mech gave her great joy. She knew the 133rd Falcon Fusiliers, for the most part, despised her—none more so than the older man who stood before her. Kazumi had been the logical choice for command when Senefa had defected, as he had plenty of experience and was well-liked. Cavell Malthus, on the other hand, blamed the Fusiliers for his protégé going over to the other side, though even Athena thought his blame was misplaced. Senefa was simply flawed, in her opinion, and for that one could not blame all of it on her genetics or her unit. Cavell had been too gentle, too fawning over her, and the end result was that Senefa had thought she could get away with anything. In any case, Athena was secretly happy Senefa had done what she did: not only did it rescue Athena from serving under a fool, it also gave her the Clans' blessing to hunt her down.
Kazumi was a different story. He held the opinion of most of the Cluster: Senefa had done wrong, but she was not evil, stupid, or seduced by the siren song of the Inner Sphere. While some boasted of killing Senefa, getting the promised slot in the next Bloodname contest, and restoring honor to the Fusiliers, most did not. A few even said that if Senefa had defected, she must have had a good reason, leading them to question their very Clan. Athena had gotten the worst troublemakers transferred to garrison units to rot, but she could not spare Kazumi. The Fusiliers looked to him now, which she hated, but he obeyed her orders and kept the unit together. It did not matter, Athena decided; a few more months with the Fusiliers and either she would break them to her will, or she would have done enough to get a more prestigious assignment.
And now such an opportunity had dropped into her lap, almost literally. The Snowbirds had returned to Vantaa on some harebrained rescue operation, and Star Colonel Carmin Winson of the Wolves had graciously offered the hunt to Henderson. Since they could not stand each other, Athena suspected Winson of treachery, and she had been right.
"Orders?" Kazumi asked, coming to attention.
"The fucking Wolves lied to us," Athena cursed. The word was grossly offensive to Clanfolk, but Athena had adopted it because freebirth did not seem strong enough. "The Rangers are no longer in Roanoke. They are in Greenbrier. The Snowbirds are there."
Kazumi considered it. "Then they will be making for Lynchburg."
"Aff. But they will be slowed by the Rangers. The idiots will be taking their families with them, and the Snowbirds can only travel as fast as their slowest 'Mech—and Star Commander Kyle sighted assault 'Mechs as well." With her heel, Athena scratched out the thin grass and drew a rough map in the dirt. "Star Captain, I will take Alpha Trinary and go here—Blue Ridge. You will bring up the rest of the Cluster. I will delay the Snowbirds until you can hit them from behind. I will be the anvil and you the hammer, quiaff?"
Kazumi bent down. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, Athena did have her flashes of tactical brilliance, and this was one of them. By cutting across country and maintaining a good speed of eighty kph, which all Alpha's 'Mechs were capable of, she could easily cut off the Snowbirds. She would probably be outnumbered when she got there, but that was fine. True Clanfolk never considered the odds. "Aff, Star Colonel."
"See that you are not late." Athena threw that barb at him, enjoying reminding Kazumi of his advanced age. It meant that she would be around much longer than he would. She ran to the waiting Thor, not bothering to disguise the smile on her face. She needed no Bloodname slot, but the honor in killing Senefa would be high nonetheless. Sheila Arla-Vlata would be just as well. She relished seeing the Inner Sphere woman again. Athena had made sure that Sheila would never forget her until the day she died—which, she fervently hoped, would be rather soon. And this time, Athena thought darkly, she will not escape.