Well All!! Thanks for the great reviews.

First: Sorry for another blabbering chapter ;) I can ABSOLUTELY 100 GARUNTEE that the next chapter has some mech (And tank and infantry) blasting.

Second:...Well...Guess I really don't have a second...oh well.

--

"Alpha Wolf Leader, this is Firebird Leader, we got mechs inbound from west. I make out 10 mechs of varying class, speed 35 kilometers per hour, looks like they are escorting a small convoy. "

Grant keyed the comlink, "Sheppard mechs?"

"No sir, the sensors read Smoke Tigers," came the reply.

Sighing, Grant keyed the link again, "Okay Firebird Leader. Go meet them and bring them in. When you're done, park your mechs and take a breather. Until we're fully organized I don't want all my mechwarriors wearing thin at the same time."

"You got it Alpha Wolf. Firebird moving out," came the reply before the comlink quite.

Turning he switched to general coms, "Beta, Third Company leader, Major Tam, are you available?"

There was several minutes silence and two repeated calls before she responded, "Sorry Sir. I was out of my mech."

"That's fine. Take Third Company and set up roving patrols 10 clicks out. Until our defences are in order I want to be as forewarned as possible."

"Yes sir. I'll round them up. Tam, out."

That done with he went through the shutdown cycle on his iMadcat/i, the mech finally slowing to a dull hum and giving a small shudder as the reactor shut down. He unstrapped the neurohelmet and slipped it off his head, then unstrapping himself from the mech's piloting seat.

He opened the mech's hatch, allowing sunlight to stream into the mech, the tinted window's allowing little into the cockpit.

Grabbing the pack behind his mech's couch, he quickly changed from the cooling vest and shorts into his uniform, a tough procedure in the cramped cockpit. However he wasn't sure if his quarters contents had been moved to the ground, and he knew that his pack contained one. Cooling vests and shorts always became uncomfortable after being worn for hours, especially if they were not needed.

Fully dressed, he slipped the pack over a shoulder and climbed out of the Madcat and down the footholds on the legs.

On the ground he was met by the Raider's infantry commander, Charles Connor.

"Sir," he said, giving just barely a salute, the luxury of being in a merc outfit, "Your command center, and personal quarters are set up. The rest of the camp should be finished in a couple hours."

"Good work Major. Looks like your training is paying off," Grant paused a moment, "The other merc unit I told you about, are nearing arrival. When they come in, make a hole for their personal and equipment, then bring the commanding and executive officers to my quarters."

"Yes sir," Connor gave another brief salute before moving off into the bustle of the camp.

Grant looked around at the moderately calming confusion all around camp before walking to his quarters. When setting up a field base, the layout was generally the same, allowing the personal to easily find their tents.

Finding his, he stepped inside, laying his pack alongside of his bunk. It was set up the same as his dropship, his desk was off to one side, computer, printer, and several other neccessities on it, bunk on the other side, foot locker underneath and at the end a small weapons case, carrying what weapons he needed without having to go to the dropship's armory.

He was just about to seat himself at his desk when the slow thumps of approaching mech's could be felt. Grant got up and walked to the tents doorway, looking at the approaching convoy. Although still half a kilometer away, the combined weight of ten battlemechs still tremored the ground.

He watched until they pulled into the compound and then stepped back inside his tent. Seating himself at the desk, he took a computer disc out and inserted it into his laptop. Rosice, his new temporary home, fluttered on the screen a moment before stabilizing into a interactive globe.

Grant almost absently began mapping out the defences of his section of line, nearly half of the eastern continent. With the exception of a lance of Sheppard mechs and the Smoke Tigers, all that would give support to his forces would be infantry and a very few tanks, most of even them withdrawn to the western continent upon his arrival.

After a few more minutes he glanced at his watch. Although he expected them to settle in first, it had been nearly half an hour since the Tiger's arrival. And he had expected at least something. As if on cue, Major Connor stepped into the tent.

"Sir. You better get out here," he said before ducking back out.

Moderately alarmed, Grant stepped from the desk, and out of the tent. The picture that greeted him would have been amusing under any other situation.

The Smoke Tiger's commander and her second in command had been brought to his tent, and had happened to arrive at the same time as his own XO, Kenna Carns.

Taking a moment before barging in, Grant leaned over to Connor, "What the hell happened?"

"I dunno sir. Me and private Davis were bringing Commander Warrick to your tent when Commander Carns stepped in front of me. That's when," he motioned, "This started."

Turning back to the scene in front of him, he gave a small chuckle. Kenna, six feet tall, 180 pounds of muscle, stood face to face...or more face to head with Commander Tanea Warrick, a sour look on her face and hand gripped instinctively on her short katana, ignoring her sidearm.

Warrick had an equally sour look, and was slowly flexing her fist around her holstered pistol. The woman was not backing down, and had matched Kenna's intense stare, albeit barely, due to the height differance. Standing a good 5 inches shorter and not two thirds the weight of the opposite woman, the intense stare was making up for whatever physical differance there was.

Finally he had enough, "Lieutenant Commander Carns step back. Sub-Commander Warrick at ease." He spoke forcefully but refrained from bellowing.

They both continued the staring match, and for a moment Grant swore that both managed to keep one eye on the other while swiveling an eye towards him.

As they failed to quite, Grant spoke Louder, "COMMANDERS WARRICK AND CARNS."

At this they both finally eased somewhat. Both hesitantly stepping away from each other, Kenna, to Grant's tent flap, while Tanea backed alongside her executive officer.

Grant glanced at Kenna for a moment before turning to the Tigers, "Come with me." he said, turning and walking into his tent. Kenna remained alongside the doorway, and as the two mechwarriors passed her, the commander and her traded glares before moving out of sight.

Once inside, Grant sat behind his desk as Tanea and her escort stood in front of it.

Taking a moment, he looked them over, complete opposites in every way. The man was a hulking mass, large enough to give smaller elementals a run for their money, blonde haired and a very pale complexion, one which may have caused him to be the butt of many jokes if not for his immense size. He stood at a loose attention, his demeanor respecting, but obviously differing towards his own commander.

His commander was another story. She was at attention, and externally appeared correct. However her posture and manner indicated that she was less than pleased with the arrangement. Even so she kept a somewhat arrogant posture, as if daring anyone to approach her. Unlike her pale XO, her skin was dark. White, but with a dark undertone, giving it a grayish appearance, matching her brown hair, kept in a severely tight ponytail. She could have been considered attractive had it not been for the gaze she was directing at him. Hard gray eyes, with a penetrating gaze that made him mildly uncomfortable.

"I assume you have heard of your orders?" Grant asked.

"Yes sir," came the abrupt reply.

"I will get to the point then. You don't screw with me and I won't with you. You retain direct control over your company and as long as your objectives are obtained, and you do not endanger my own forces you are free to do your job as you see fit," Grant paused and then continued.

"You will retain your ranking as commander, but with the status of a Captain in my unit as long as you are here. You will take orders primarily from myself. However you will follow orders from Battalion commanders as needed. And anything my executive officer, Kenna Carns says, goes as if it were my own...Clear?"

Warrick paused a moment, "Carns...a Wolf sir?" she asked.

Grant raised an eyebrow, "Yes. I am surprised you noticed. Few people recognize a Clan Bloodname. She is my second in command, and currently my bondsman."

At this her executive officer snorted, "A bondsman...second in command? Must be a good bed..." he trailed off as he stared into the gaping barrel of a .500 magnum revolver.

"What was that?" Grant asked. He had sprang forward from the desk, pulling his massive revolver from it's shoulder holster and aiming it forward in one motion.

"Uh...mmm..nothing," the man muttered.

"Excuse Lieutenant Halstead, Commander Prien. He has a deep dislike and prejudice towards Clansmen," Warrick spoke, a hint of distaste in the words.

Relaxing a moment, Grant re-holstered his revolver and sat back in his chair, "I understand your position Lieutenant. I feel the same way...What part of the Republic were you from?"

The big man smiled a moment, "Rasalhague itself sir. I was 15 when the Clans come through. Killed a lot of my friends...I'm sorry sir...I was out of line." The man had become more sullen as he had been thinking back, before muttering a brief apology.

Grant had a brief inner smile. The man had realized that for now it would be better to not start off on the wrong foot.

"Outpost, 3050. As for Kenna Carns, she has earned my respect. Saved my life a couple times, and I can trust her decisions implicitly," he replied.

"And yet she is still a bondsman?" Warrick spoke up. Glancing at her, Grant saw her defiance had returned. Something in her actions, speech, and character gave him a brief flash of deja'vu but he shrugged it off.

"For now," he replied. Wanting to change the subject he continued, "That case," he motioned to a small pouch being carried by the commander, "Is for me I assume?"

"Yes sir," she set it on his desk, "Up-to-date line reports, unit locations and intellegance from the Kinsey lines...A couple of things you aren't going to like."

"Such as?" he asked.

"36 hours before you arrived a Lyran unit touched down. A battalion of mechs from the 1st Alarion Jaegers, along with an attached armor battalion, infantry and support assets," she spoke and then sprouted a slightly smug smile. Grant may have control of her unit, but that didn't make the situation any better.

"Damnit," Grant took the packet and slipped it in a drawer. His mind occupied, he motioned to the two commanders in front of him, "My unit will help erect quarters and facilities for your unit. If needed, my company will provide techs and supplies as long as we are not in need ourselves. If you need anything, my tent flap is open."

"We are being dismissed?" Warrick asked, sure, but not wanting to walk out.

"Dismissed," Grant muttered. As the two walked out, he became irritated, something nagged at him. As he thought about Commander Warrick, something struck a bell in his head. What, he wasn't sure, but something.

As the two Tigers left, Kenna stepped inside the tent. Noting his attentive appearance she spoke, "Something wrong sir?"

He looked up a moment, "Does she strike you as...familiar...? Something seems...off.."

At this Kenna raised an eyebrow, mildly amused, "You do not..." she trailed off.

"What?"

"Nothing sir," she added before turning to leave the tent.

"Kenna." That stopped her. He always addressed her as "Commander" or "Carns" when spekaing normally. Only when he was severly irritated, or speaking as a friend, which was rare, did he speak her name. She turned.

"What?" he asked again.

She paused, "It is not my place sir." She stood silent a moment before he waved and she left the tent.

As his second in command left the tent, Grant leaned back in his chair. Something kept nagging him, but now he wasn't sure if it was Warrick, Kinsey, or the Lyrans.