AUTHOR'S NOTES: Another lull chapter, as we begin working our way up to Twycross. When I originally wrote the Snowbird Saga, I ended Snowbird Ascendant with the planning session, but that seems like a lame place to end it, so I'll be combining this with "Snowbird Summer" and "Twycross." It means a long story arc, but narratively, I think it works better...for now, anyway.

I'm not a doctor, so I don't know if Sheila being out cold for a week with a concussion means she should not be home in bed, but in the ICU somewhere. Call it artistic license.

Black Pearl Base

Sudeten, Tamar March, Federated Commonwealth

23 July 3050

Sheila felt very warm and content, like she had taken a nice bath and then slept on the softest, best bed ever. Wait, bed? Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up into an unfamiliar ceiling. "Where the hell am I?" she whispered.

"Sudeten." She looked over and saw Arla sitting there, watching her daughter. Sheila noticed a wadded-up hankerchief in her hands, an old nervous habit of her mother's. She leaned over and tucked Sheila's hair back. "How are you feeling?"

Sheila took stock for a moment. "Pretty good, I guess. A little stiff." She blinked. "Wait, Sudeten? What happened to Rasalhague?"

"It fell. About six hours after we reached the nadir point. Luckily, the Wolves were too busy concentrating on the Rasalhagians to bother us—plus Prince Magnusson was jumping out the same time we were, and they assigned the entire Drakon Air Wing to defend him…and us by extension." Arla snorted. "About the only thing the FRR did for us. It was a wasted trip, Sheila. All we did is lose five 'Mechs and two MechWarriors. I doubt Marshal Hasek-Davion will even get a 'thank you' from Prince Magnusson."

"Sure, but…how long have I been out? And what about Mimi?"

"You've been unconscious for a week, Sheila. You had a severe concussion. The doctors thought you might've even had a fractured skull. Luckily for you that you inherited a thick head—from both sides of the family. They didn't have to operate, thank God, but you were out. It only took us a week to get back to Sudeten because the command circuit was still intact, and your father demanded you get a fast shuttle down to the hospital here. I rode down with you. Calla and the other DropShips will be down tomorrow. Mira came down to give Hasek-Davion the bad news personally."

Sheila sat up and tested her limbs. Then she looked down, and instantly slid back below the covers: she was wearing her Victorian nightshirt, which was sheer silk; her nipples were clearly visible through it. Sheila had bought it on Tharkad, embarrassed even as she wanted to impress Tooriu. Arla burst into laughter. "You do know we're built the same. I used to change your diapers."

"Still, Mom!" Sheila turned red with embarrassment.

"In any case, the doctors said that rest was the best thing for you, and as long as you woke up today, you should be fine. All the scans came back negative. You don't have brain damage—no more than any MechWarrior does, in any case." Arla didn't say that the doctors were worried that, if Sheila hadn't woken up, she might have slipped into a coma. A wave of relief spread through Arla. She had seen Sheila when they carried her aboard the DropShip: her head had been swathed in bandages, her neck in a brace, and she had been firmly strapped to a stretcher. Sheila's skin was normally pale, but on Rasalhague it had been a deathly pallor. Arla fought back the tears, and the desire to tell her daughter to quit being a MechWarrior, go find some nice interior world, get married, and become a potato farmer or something. But you won't listen, will you? she thought, and wiped her eyes, driven by some ridiculous honor that she would not cry in front of her daughter.

"Mom." Arla looked up at Sheila, who stared back with her mother's eyes. "What about Mimi?"

Arla sighed. She had hoped to put this off, and let Sheila find out later, but there was nothing for it, now. "She's alive, Sheila."

"There's a 'but' in there, Mom."

"There certainly is. Her back was broken, and the spinal cord damaged. Not severed, but badly damaged. Mimi is awake, but she has no feeling below her waist. The doctors say that, with time, they might be able to restore some feeling down to her thighs—I admit I didn't quite understand how, but that is what they said—but…barring a miracle…Mimi will never walk again, much less pilot a 'Mech again."

"Oh, dear God," Sheila whispered. She rested her head back on her pillow. Mimi, always so vivacious, who saw being a MechWarrior as fun. Mimi, bragging about her abilities as an exotic dancer after sneaking back into the Nagelring. Never again. "Mom…"

"You can see her…later. If you want." Arla's tone of voice warned that it would be better if she didn't see Mimi. She checked her watch. "I'll come back later. Why don't you rest? You can get out of bed and shower, but no gymnastics." She held up a call button. "You're in the barracks, but there's an AFFC nurse who is assigned the room across the hall." A shadow crossed her face; the room had been Mimi's. "She will be checking on you every two hours for the next two days. Don't worry about being embarrassed; she helped me change you into your bedclothes. If you don't have a relapse and everything stays normal, you can return to light duty in 72 hours. Before you ask, you won't be allowed into a 'Mech for at least three weeks."

"Yeah, okay," Sheila replied dully. For once, piloting a 'Mech was the last thing on her mind.

Arla got up, leaned over, and kissed her daughter on the forehead. "I'll come back later," she repeated, then left.

Sheila sat up in bed, put her face in her hands, and cried for Mimi.

Two hours later—after the AFFC nurse came in, checked Sheila's vitals, declared her alive, and made her eat lunch—Sheila took a shower. Someone had given her a sponge bath while she was unconscious, since she wasn't carrying Rasalhague's grime on her, but a nice, hot shower was much better. Sheila toweled off, looked down at herself, made a face, then went into the bedroom and sat naked on the bed to shave her underarms and legs. Since most of Sheila's six foot height was in her legs, the latter was a tough undertaking.

The door behind her opened and closed. "I'm fine," Sheila called out. "No problems with the shower."

"Yeah, I can see that. Looking damn fine."

Sheila whirled around and saw Tooriu Kku standing in the doorway, a huge grin on his face. From the angle he was at, the most he had seen was Sheila's back and the top of her rear, but as she dropped down below the bed to hide her nudity, he got flashes of everything. "You asshole!" she shrilled. "Can't you fucking knock?"

Tooriu waved that off, as if walking unannounced into women's staterooms was a common occurrence. "Hey, I asked the nurse, she said it was okay."

"The nurse didn't know I was in here buck naked!"

Tooriu took two steps further into the room and leaned against the wall. "Who cares? I've seen it all before, several times."

Sheila impaled him with a look. "Fuck you, Tooriu."

"You already did. Several times."

She glared at him a little while longer, then shook her head. "Still an asshole." Tooriu nodded, acknowledging the fact. With a sigh, Sheila stood up; there was no point in hiding, since Tooriu had indeed seen it all before. His eyes traveled down her body, which caused Sheila to swallow nervously. They might no longer be lovers, but memories lasted a long time. "You've got some foam down there." He pointed at her ankles. "Need some help shaving your legs?" It took Sheila a moment to realize Tooriu was genuinely offering to help. He noticed the her expression of confusion. "Sheila, I'm gonna stand here and look, but we broke up, remember?"

"And you're with Elfa now, which is weird." Sheila was surprised to feel a pang of jealousy for the older woman.

"Why?" Tooriu did not move. "You going to get dressed or walk around naked?"

"Yeah, yeah." Sheila went over to the dresser and got out a fresh pair of underwear. She would never know that Tooriu was using a great deal of willpower to do nothing but stare. Down, boy, he thought as Sheila finally put on some fatigues. Elfa might be his current lover, but there were a lot of pleasant memories for him, as well.

"You heard about Mimi?" Sheila asked.

"Yeah. Fucking sucks." Tooriu was almost glad of the distraction. "Rasalhague's gone too. These Clan bastards are creaming us."

"We'll stop them," Sheila said.

"Where? Terra?" Tooriu pushed off the wall. "Anyway, I didn't come here to admire those long legs and those gorgeous tits of yours, though thank you."

"You're welcome, you dick."

"If you're ambulatory, Mira wants to see you most ricky-tick." It was an old expression that had entered Sentinels lexicon decades before; no one knew the origin, but it meant very fast. "And I think she's pissed."

That's weird, Sheila thought. She hadn't done anything to upset the even-tempered Mira Canis-Vlata. "Shit."

"Pretty much. Need any help getting there?"

"No, I'll let the nurse know. Some fresh air would do me fine anyway." Sheila sat down and pulled on her boots. "What the hell is she chewing my ass for?"

"Can't blame her," Tooriu leered. "It's a mighty fine ass."

Sheila hurled a boot at him as he retreated.

To Sheila's surprise, Mira glowered at her menacingly as she walked into the Alpha Battalion commanding officer's office. "Major Arla-Vlata, reporting as ordered, ma'am." Mira did not acknowledge Sheila's words, but went back to typing a report on her laptop, leaving Sheila standing at attention for two minutes.

"At ease," Mira finally said, without looking up. There was another long pause, then Mira spoke. "Sheila, you did a very brave thing on Rasalhague." She finally turned towards her; Mira tapped a Bible that sat on her desk. "The Good Book tells us that no greater love, and so on." Then Mira slowly got to her feet, and stabbed a finger at Sheila, making the other woman jump in surprise. "But it also says not to be stupid! My God, Sheila, what were you thinking? You could've just given that crazy nut of a Ferret pilot Mimi Stykkis' coordinates, and let the Kungsarme handle search and rescue!"

Mira paused, and since she seemed to want an explanation, Sheila stammered, "B-But Mimi was part of my lance, my responsibility—"

"That's nice!" Mira bellowed. "And I get Mimi's your friend, but then you jumped out of the helicopter and decided to play infantry games with some Clan Wolf Toads that should've killed you! Even then, Max had to organize his lance to come rescue you, otherwise you'd both be in a POW camp or—more likely—dead! That hero bullshit works in Immortal Warrior vids, Sheila, but not in real life!"

Sheila was shocked to say the least. The tongue-lashing would be one thing if it was coming from Yoriyoshi Kazikawa or Marion Rhialla, but this was the soft-spoken Mira. Sheila knew that Max's mother had a temper, and when it blew, it tended to go off like a dormant volcano. She never thought that it would be turned on her, however. "Commander—"

"Quiet! I'm not done yet. Not by a long shot." Mira was leaning across the desk. "If you had gotten your stupid little ass killed, I'd have been out another company commander, and your father would have had my ass on his wall!" She shook her head. "It was brave, Sheila, no question, but it was, as I mentioned, unbelievably stupid. And I don't mind admitting that I don't like the fact that you risked my son's life in the process. I'm not supposed to say that, but it's true." She held up a hand to forestall Sheila's protest. "Yes, he volunteered, because he has feelings for you, the poor fool. But it doesn't excuse what you did." Mira blew out her breath. "Maybe it would've been better to leave Mimi to the Clans. At least then, your father wouldn't be looking around for someone to be her legs for her."

That last barb sank home, and Sheila's own temper went off like a land mine. "Permission to speak freely, ma'am!"

"Granted."

Sheila thought she saw the ghost of a smile on Mira's face, which infuriated her even more. "With all due respect, ma'am, go fuck yourself!"

Mira's eyebrows rose. "Excuse me, Major?"

"You heard me, ma'am! You weren't there! You didn't see poor Nkosi get blown apart because he was so damn frustrated that he had to stop and fight! You didn't see your best friend get her back snapped! You weren't looking down a fucking laser barrel from a fucking Wolf Toad! You were in the rear in the gear, doing…doing…" Sheila noticed a print magazine on Mira's desk. "Reading Vogue, for all the good it does you!"

Mira's hands went behind her back, and she faced the raging Sheila placidly, which made it worse. "Continue, Major. You might as well. I've already got you on insubordination."

"Yes, ma'am!" Sheila barked. "I did my best, Commander. I'm sorry it wasn't good enough, but I tried. I didn't have much of a lance left after the Wolves attacked, so I tried to save a portion of it, the portion I could save. And my best goddamn friend, I might add. Maybe Mimi won't walk again, but maybe I saved her life! I don't know—maybe the Wolves would've just shot her. And if I used my rank or my position as the Commander's daughter, then so fucking be it. I had to do something! Why the hell are you giving me a ration of shit for it when all I wanted was—"

Mira held her hands up, and now she was grinning. "Okay, okay. You made your point, Sheila. Enough, please." She sat back down. "Feel better?"

"A little, ma'am." Now Sheila was less furious and more confused. Why the hell is she being nice now, all of a sudden? Maybe my concussion was worse than I thought.

"Good. I thought it might. And I do apologize, because I baited you on purpose."

"Ma'am?" Sheila was now quite confused.

"The Sentinels aren't exactly lavish with ranks or titles, Sheila," Mira said. "We're not the stupid Lyran Guards or Davion Heavies or something. We're common mongrel bastards, the lot of us. The Vlata name stopped being important back during the Second Succession War. In any case, I wanted to be satisfied that you at least knew that your decision, however incredibly brave, could have been handled better…if you'd had the time to think. Which you should have before you got on that Ferret." Mira's smile widened to a grin. "And because I wanted to see the look on your face."

"Huh?"

Mira put on a pair of glasses, tipped them halfway down her nose, and picked up a piece of paper. The parchment looked heavy. "'In the name of the Federated Commonwealth, and Their Highnesses Hanse Davion and Melissa Steiner-Davion, the Commonwealth Star is hereby awarded to Major Sheila Arla-Vlata, 4th Company, Alpha Battalion, Sentinels Regimental Combined Arms Team. On 16 July 3050, Major Arla-Vlata refused to abandon a lancemate despite that lancemate being deep behind enemy lines and in imminent danger of death or capture. Using initiative, she requested a search and rescue helicopter be dispatched to rescue MechWarrior Mimi Stykkis, and volunteered to assist herself, despite having recently returned from a battle. When the helicopter was engaged by battlearmor of Clan Wolf, Major Arla-Vlata selflessly jumped from the helicopter and defended MechWarrior Stykkis at considerable risk to her own life. She wounded at least two infantry before being badly injured herself, but even after that, her concern was for her friend. Major Arla-Vlata's outstanding leadership, commendable initiative and total dedication to saving the life of her friend reflects great credit upon her and were in keeping with the highest traditions of the Federated Commonwealth of Houses Steiner and Davion. Approved this day, 21 July 3050 Anno Domini, by Marshal of the Armies Morgan Hasek-Davion, etcetera etcetera."

"I'm…um…huh?" Sheila was still a few steps behind.

"If only I had my phone with me. I'd get a picture of that look for posterity." Mira moved some papers out of the way, then handed a velvet case to Sheila. "Congratulations. There will be a formal award ceremony at some point, but for now, you can have this."

Dumbfounded, Sheila opened the case. On a base of blue and gold silk was a medal, a nine-pointed star made of gold, with the silver fist of House Steiner and a platinum sword-and-sunburst of House Davion in the center. It hung on a golden chain, with a clasp done in the shape of a BattleMech. "Me?" Sheila said, still in shock.

"Yep, you. Second-highest award in the FedCom. You're probably the first one to get it in this war. Expect to be taken out to boring parties and forced to give war bond speeches about how the fresh-faced, brave youth are facing down the slavering Clan hordes, ad infinitum." Mira shrugged. "When Hasek-Davion found out about your exploits, he awarded you the medal on the spot. All the realm loves a hero, and God knows we need some right now." She took off her glasses. "I still think you could've handled it better, but here's the funny thing—I got the Silver Starburst because Hanse Davion thinks I kicked ass in '39. So stupid is a disease of nobles and the youth." Mira got to her feet and put out her hand. Sheila slowly shook it. "If you're feeling better by 0900 day after tomorrow, the Marshal would like you to report to the Junior Officers' Strategy Group. Any questions?" Sheila shook her head. "Great! Congrats again. Dismissed."

Sheila was to the door before Mira spoke again. "Oh, and Sheila?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Put the medal on! That's what it's for, you know."

"Um, sure. I mean, yes, ma'am." Sheila opened the case, reverently took the medal out, and put it on.

She walked back to her room, and as she did so, started feeling better. The medal was heavy, but it sparkled with newness. And maybe it's not as bad as all that with Mimi…ooh, I've got to show her! And Max! And—

"I see that sweet young ass is still there," Tooriu said, slipping up behind her. "Guess Mira didn't take too many inches off."

Sheila didn't resist the urge to play it insufferably cool. "You should've seen what she did to my neck." She slowly turned and grinned as Tooriu's jaw dropped.

Black Pearl Base Hospital

Sudeten, Tamar March, Federated Commonwealth

24 July 3050

Sheila paused on the threshold of the hospital, suddenly seized with a desire to turn around and go back to the barracks. What if she blames me for what happened? She froze, unable to think for a moment, then resolutely pressed on. Mimi Stykkis was her best friend; she would be a rather lousy friend if she didn't visit her.

Armed with that thought, Sheila asked about and found Mimi's room. She paused again, took a deep breath, and walked into the room…and stopped cold.

Mimi was in the bed, her eyes closed. Normally Mimi was slightly tanned—she liked to joke that she was the only Stykkis that tanned, not burned—and even lying in bed, seemed ready to leap out of it for mischief. This Mimi was pale, her eyes sunken into her head, and hooked up to a dozen machines and IV drips. She looked, quite simply, dead.

Then the eyes slowly opened, and Mimi smiled. "Hey there." The smile changed everything, bringing this Mimi alive again.

Sheila went over and almost hugged her, but stopped. "Hi."

"Yeah…better not hug me. You might pull something out." Mimi grabbed a control pad and brought herself to a sitting position. "How's it going? Someone told me you got concussed."

"I did. I'm okay. Thick head."

"I believe that." Mimi motioned at her legs, hidden under the sheets. "You heard about me, I guess."

Sheila sat in a chair next to the bed. "Yeah." She couldn't meet Mimi's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah…everyone's sorry." She saw the look of sorrow on Sheila's face. "Shit, I am sorry. This isn't your fault."

"Maybe if I hadn't come back for you—"

"The Clanners might've killed me. Or I'd be in a POW camp somewhere. Maybe these Wolves rape their women prisoners." She sighed. "Not going to say I'm better off as I am now, but you did the right thing, Sheila."

Sheila was both relieved and ashamed that Mimi didn't blame her. "They…um…decorated me. Do you want to see it?" Mimi nodded, and Sheila unzipped her fatigue collar, where she wore the Commonwealth Star. Since she hadn't been formally awarded it, she was not supposed to openly wear the medal, but keeping it hidden was another thing. She also worried about flaunting it in front of Mimi.

Mimi reached out and cradled it. "Wow."

"This is as much yours as mine," Sheila said. It seemed the right thing to say.

"Nah, that's all yours, Sheila." Mimi smiled. "I'm not pissed. You earned it by shooting that one Toad in the face and then clocking that other one upside the head. Just wish you'd gotten the last one too, but…oh well." She looked down to her legs. "My fault anyway. Least that's what I told those AFFC dudes that came in here a few days ago."

"Wait—you told them about what happened?" Sheila asked.

"Sure. It was the truth." Mimi next glanced upwards, and Sheila followed her eyes. There was a handlebar attached to a pulley system. "They want me to use that twenty times a day. Build up my upper body strength. I'm going to need it."

"You sure will. For when you get back in a 'Mech."

It was the wrong thing to say. Mimi's smile disappeared instantly. "No, Sheila, for my fucking wheelchair. I'll never pilot a 'Mech again."

"Mimi, you don't know that," Sheila said soothingly. "There's all kinds of things they can do today."

Mimi barked a nasty laugh. "Well, then you go tell my doctors that, because they tell me that I'll never fucking walk again. All that training at the 'Ring? Doesn't mean a damn thing now. All that dancing I did, all the times I sweated my ass off keeping this body fit and trim so Lyran generals and salarymen could drool over it and stick C-Bills in my thong? Yeah, that was for nothing too. I'll never dance again—"

Sheila tried to reach out for her hand. "Mimi, it hasn't even been a week yet—"

"Don't give me that shit, Sheila! Don't even fucking give me that shit." She shot her hand across the room, and Sheila noticed the wheelchair for the first time, parked in a corner. "I'll be in that thing forever, with someone having to dress me, cart me around—for fuck's sake, Sheila, I'll be lucky if I can piss on my own! The doctors won't even guarantee that! And I can just forget ever having sex again. The two things I was good at—fighting and fucking, and I can't do either."

"Mimi, please," Sheila begged.

Mimi continued, as if she hadn't heard her. "I'll be looking for a place to fucking park, while you're up there getting promoted! Fuck me, Sheila, you'll probably command the Sentinels someday, while I'm sitting at home watching you on the tridee." Her teeth were bared in a feral snarl. "Find yourself a new best friend, Sheila, because I'm gone! I'm dead, Sheila!"

Sheila got up and retreated. "Mimi," she said, tears rolling down her face. "Don't…please don't say that…"

"Get out of here," Mimi snapped. Sheila moved towards the door. "Sheila," Mimi said softly, stopping her short. "I didn't mean that. I still love you. You're still my friend, but…" She turned her own tear-streaked face to her friend. "Forget me, Sheila."

"I can't."

"You will. You should. Now leave," Mimi sobbed. "Leave and never come back."

Sheila fled.

Black Pearl Base

Sudeten, Tamar March, Federated Commonwealth

25 July 3050

"She didn't mean that, Sheila." Max leaned back in his chair. "Mimi's just…she's just messed up right now. I mean, who wouldn't be? But she's tough. She'll bounce back."

"I guess," Sheila replied, unconvinced. "But she sounded so…defeated. It's not like her." She cradled her head on her hands. "I know that deep down she doesn't blame me, and I'm not responsible, but…I feel responsible. Like if I had been a better lance commander, she wouldn't be there. Or left it to the professionals. Something."

"You didn't have time. Hell, I moved my lance out without orders. Mom chewed my ass too."

"Thanks for saving my life, by the way," Sheila smiled at him. "At least they could've given you a damn medal. Seems shitty that they give me this—" she pointed to the medal, which she could wear openly now "—and you don't get anything." She had been awarded the medal formally that morning, in front of a large crowd of AFFC MechWarriors. Sheila had mumbled thanks to Morgan Hasek-Davion, then posed smiling for the cameras as he shook her hand. It felt fake, and she remembered Mira's words.

"Hasek-Davion said something about getting me the Order of Steiner-Davion." It was a much lesser medal. "I guess they figure I was just doing my job."

"It's not fair, Max."

He shrugged. "Life's not fair, Sheila. As if we needed a reminder of that." He folded his arms over his chest. "Let's talk about something else."

"Such as?"

"Our next assignment." He glanced around the briefing room. It was empty; he and Sheila had gotten there early. All the same, he dropped his voice and leaned closer. "Rumor has it we're hitting Twycross."

"Twycross? Did the Jade Falcons take it?"

"Last month. The Twycross militia put up one hell of a fight, but they got overrun."

"Why there?" she wondered, then remembered. "There's a 'Mech factory there." She looked up at him. "Ever been to it?"

"Yeah, once. When I was a kid. It's a hellhole. Constant dust storms, huge hurricanes…what they call dust devils other planets call tornadoes." Max shrugged. "Anyway, that's the rumor."

Sheila rubbed her eyes. She hadn't slept well the night before. "Gad, I wonder if they're sending us in."

"Good chance of it. We're now the most experienced MechWarriors in the AFFC, since we've fought the Clans twice. Most units have only fought them once."

"Mainly because they didn't survive it," Sheila observed dryly.

The doors opened, admitting Victor Steiner-Davion, Kai Allard-Liao, Christian Kell, and Morgan Hasek-Davion. Sheila and Max jumped to their feet and stood at attention, and Sheila nearly fell—she'd gotten up too quick, and her vision grayed out for a second. "Whoa, careful!" Victor warned. He came around the table to shake their hands. "Max, heard what you did on Rasalhague. Don't sweat that ceremony this morning; I'll make sure you get something. And Sheila—how's the head?"

"I'm fine, Highness."

"None of that crap," Victor said. "In this room, we're dropping titles."

"I'm okay, Victor."

"That's better." He slapped her shoulder gently, then whistled as the light caught the Commonwealth Star at Sheila's throat. He hadn't been at the medal ceremony. "Damn. You move fast, classmate. Nice work." Then Victor stepped back, because to lean closer to look at the medal, he had ended up nearly in Sheila's cleavage; the Prince of the Federated Commonwealth was only five foot four by the old Davion Imperial measurements. Sheila had six inches on him.

"We have to save this for later, I'm afraid," Morgan instructed. "Take your seats, everyone." Victor went back around the table, while Kai sat next to Max. As Christian set up the holoprojector, Max leaned over to Kai. "Did Yen-lo-Wang get here yet?"

"Still held up in transit," Kai said miserably. "Guess I'll have to watch the next fight. Victor promised me a new 'Mech as a temporary, but…I don't even know what's available."

"Take a Hatchetman," Max suggested. "My Battlemaster's still kaput, but I used a Hatchetman on Rasalhague, and it was pretty good. No long-range weapons, but that hatchet makes up for it."

"Let's get started," Morgan said. "And Victor's right. Let's leave the titles and ranks at the front door." He took off his formal jacket and draped it on a chair. "I'm not Marshal Hasek-Davion; I'm Morgan. This is Christian, Victor, Kai, Max and Sheila. Clear?"

"Yes, s—Morgan." Max caught himself just in time.

"Good. I heard what you two did on Rasalhague, obviously. I don't care what Prince Magnusson says about it—and he hasn't said a thing—but the AFFC is damned proud of you. Unfortunately, that now makes you two among the most experienced Clan fighters we have, and to whom much is given, much is asked. That's why you're here, and whatever mission we go on, you will be included on it. It's not a good thing, but we need all the help we can get." He spread his paper notes on the table. "So. While you were playing with the Wolves on Rasalhague, Kai and Victor came up with some great ideas for countermeasures. Next we need to see where to use them. Where do we counterattack? Do we limit ourselves to raids until we build up our forces, or do we try to launch limited offensives and retake worlds? Christian, if you don't mind…"

Christian switched on the holotank, projecting a map of the rimward Periphery of the Inner Sphere, showing the "upper" part of the Federated Commonweath, the Free Rasalhague Republic, and the Draconis Combine. From the maps Max and Sheila had studied at their academies, the borders should have been a wide arc, with gray Periphery realms, independent republics, and pirate freeholds across the arc.

The Periphery realms were gone, and the arc had been interrupted by a multicolored wedge. Morgan pointed to the wedge. "Green for Clan Jade Falcon, brown for the Wolves, light blue for the Ghost Bears, and gray for the Smoke Jaguars. Those are the four Clans we've identified. We don't know if there's more of them, where they come from, or who the hell they even are. That's not for this briefing to worry about.

"So far, we've lost most of Trellshire, on the line Newtown Square-Blackjack-Twycross-Mozrije. Most of our losses have come from the Falcons, though the Wolves have taken a nice bite too." Sheila was stunned. She hadn't realized it was that bad. "The FRR has taken a big hit from the Wolves and Ghost Bears, who are also hitting Kurita. The Smoke Jaguars are concentrating on the Combine. House Kurita gave us this information, by the way—that's under the table, so don't tell anyone. Apparently Kanrei Theodore Kurita authorized the leak. He's taking this seriously, enough to put aside old differences."

"Is there any good news?" Max asked.

"Not much. Magnusson managed to escape Rasalhague, as you know. We heard that the Jaguars captured Hohiro Kurita on Turtle Bay." Sheila noticed Victor look a little pale in the light of the holoprojector; Hohiro was the heir to the Combine. It seemed strange that the two men had nearly shared the same fate. "The local yakuza busted him out and got him offplanet, though."

"That's good," Sheila observed.

Morgan smiled wanly. "Maybe for Hohiro. After his escape, the Jaguars lost it. They razed Turtle Bay's main city to the ground. Orbital bombardment, maybe nuclear weapons. We haven't confirmed the latter, but definitely orbital bombardment. The Clans have operational battleships. Tens of thousands dead."

"Holy shit," Max breathed. "How the hell do we stop that?"

"That's what we're here to find out," Morgan replied. "So let's toss out possibilites for counterattack. Ignore the fact that the Clans have warships; so far, Turtle Bay's the only place they've used them. Anyhow, nothing huge—we're not planning Normandy here. Let's settle for Sicily."

Kai got up and peered at the holomap. "Well," he began, "there are several possibilities on a wide front like this. What about Blackjack? It's close to the front, we've got some units close by already, and we've heard there's an active resistance there, from the former students at the Blackjack Academy."

"Or so we've heard," Christian replied. "That was two weeks ago. The Jade Falcons might have already overrun them."

"Still a viable possibility," Morgan said. "Victor?"

"I'd say Twycross. There's a 'Mech factory there, and we could use that back. The bad weather will give us a better chance with their range advantage. It's close to the front, and there's an active resistance there as well. All told, the Clan garrison is not likely to be enjoying their stay. It might lead to a drop in morale that we can exploit."

"I like it. Blackjack and Twycross then. Anywhere else?" Morgan asked.

"Planting," Sheila said. She got up and pointed at the planet in the holomap. "Agriculturally rich planet, lots of water—a good supply base. And if we take it, we'll be in the central position as Napoleon saw it. From there we can hit anywhere in Trellshire or the FRR."

"It's also a good distance behind the lines," Christian observed. "Bold, I'll admit. But how would be keep it supplied enough to launch raids?"

"For the raids I'm thinking of," Sheila said, "we don't."

"Excuse me?" Morgan was regarding her closely now.

"We can use uninhabited systems for supply caches and recharge points. A raiding force could even live off the land. If we start launching deep raids, the Clans have to pull frontline regiments off the line and head back to deal with us. We get them reacting to us. It could have a snowball effect."

"I don't know about living off the land," Victor said. "I get that you're referencing Napoleon, but we're not living in his times. Doctrine says it can't be done."

"Screw doctrine," Sheila said hotly, warming to her argument. Max covered his eyes. "I say we can."

"You willing to stake your life on that?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

Morgan stood up, and Sheila quickly sat. "Sheila, you have a viable point, though Victor does as well. Planting is a good choice—for a future operation. You're planning a big operation, but right now, we can't do it. Not for another three months at least. We're still rushing units to the front. What we are limited to now is raids and spoiling attacks. Get them reacting to us, like you said."

"I'm sorry," Sheila apologized.

"Don't be. It's a good suggestion, like I said, and we'll keep it in mind. Any other suggestions?" He looked at Christian and Max, but neither spoke up. "All right. Blackjack or Twycross, then?"

"Why not both?" Christian suggested. "We should have enough forces at that. Kommandant Schattenwolff has some ideas for a 'lightning regiment'—one that can get in and out in a fast raid. We could give him a chance to try that on Blackjack. We could recover the remaining resistance units, or resupply them."

"I like that idea," Victor said. "And we can use that as a feint. The real operation would come at Twycross to retake the planet. The Clans won't know which is which, and by the time they react to the Blackjack raid, we'll be on Twycross in strength."

Morgan nodded. "They also won't know if this is the beginning of a general counteroffensive. I don't think the Clans have good intel. They always just ask. It could be just their tradition, but I think they actually don't know. If they really are from beyond the known Periphery, they don't have the spy networks everyone else has."

"Sir—I mean, Morgan," Max spoke up. "When we were on Rasalhague, we intercepted some of the Wolves' transmissions. They were coded, but we got some in plain language. They seemed surprised that the Sentinels were onplanet—mainly because Magnusson didn't include us when he told them what was defending the planet. They weren't too happy about it. I mean, we didn't really do much to them, but they were upset that Magnusson had lied to them—like Rasalhague was supposed to be a private war between the Wolves and the Kungsarme."

Victor snapped his fingers. "Yeah, we ran into something like that on Trellwan, too. It fits in with their style of picking single targets."

"Not always," Sheila pointed out. "They didn't do that to my lance on Rasalhague. They fired pretty indiscriminately."

"They might be adapting too," Morgan said. "That single combat stuff will get even their warriors killed—and the Wolves seem more willing to chance things. Rasalhague isn't a planet I would've wanted to try on, but they went for it, and took it." He sat back down. "This is good stuff. All right, gentlemen and lady, let's start putting something together. I'm damned tired of playing this war by the Clans' rules."