SNOWBIRD ASCENDANT

Book I of the Snowbird Saga

By Sentinel "Back to the 'Mech Bay" 28II

WAY TOO LONG AUTHOR'S NOTES: Way, waaay back in 1991, my friend Todd introduced me to this game called Battletech, and I really liked the game. He lended me the Warrior Trilogy of Stackpole novels, and I was hooked. Fast forward a few years, playing at cons, and finding a solid group of Battletech players at the local USAF base, and I decided I would start writing some fanfiction about my unit, inspired by my dad's amateur writing. I'd already made up a unit called the "Sentinels," based on my love of Robotech, whose commander was Calla Bighorn-Vlata—the latter suffix taken from the Tran Kurdagh-Vlatas of Alan Dean Foster's Icerigger series. I wanted to narrow the focus down to just a few members of that unit, which would eventually get the name "Snowbirds" (I was reading Alpha Flight at the time, and named them for my favorite Marvel character); their commander was named Sheila Arla-Vlata, Calla's daughter. Sheila got her first name as a result of the simple expedient of asking another Battletech player for a good name for a girl character.

I wrote in probably four or five notebooks, just scattered drabbles with one multi-chapter story, and showed it to my friends. They honestly weren't impressed, so I stopped writing on it for the most part, though the Sentinels and the Snowbirds remained my go-to Battletech unit for running campaigns (along with one my friends came up with, the Black Cat Lancers). The writing was an old shame, though. It really wasn't very good.

Fast forward to 2004, by which time the internet was a thing. I'd gotten better at writing, thanks to a lot of MSTing, and writing Robotech, Inu-Yasha and Evangelion fanfics as Sentinel28A. I decided to go back to the Snowbirds' story, and started rewriting all those stories and putting them together. The "Snowbird Saga" took the better part of six years (!) to write, but when I finished it, I felt pretty damn proud of my accomplishment. The Snowbird stories had gotten a lot of reviews (not all good, but mostly), and even it's own TVTropes page (which needs someone to finish it). I did a few short stories afterwards about Sheila's daughter, Louisa Arla-Vlata, but after my dad passed away in 2013, I stopped writing for a long time. Without my biggest source of encouragement, the desire just wasn't there anymore.

In 2019, the writing bug returned with a vengeance when another friend introduced me to RWBY, and I've since written hundreds of pages of the oh-so-serious On RWBY Wings series, and the slapstick sex comedy Love Hurts. Having gotten back into Battletech thanks to the game's recent renaissance, I decided it was time to revisit the Snowbirds while I took a break from RWBY, do some tweaking, and repost it for a new audience (a new generation wouldn't be an exaggeration). I realized that I'd never written the beginning of Sheila's career at the Nagelring, her friendship with Mimi Stykkis and Tooriu Kku, and her first engagement at the Battle of Persistence. So it's time to go back to the Snowbirds.

For those of you who have read the Snowbird Saga before, there will be a few changes—things I feel I could've done better—and maybe a little more, ah, "detail" in certain scenes. Let's just say I've learned some things after writing Love Hurts. For those of you who haven't, enjoy the story of a young woman and her friends in a story about war and coming of age in combat. And big stompy BattleMechs.

WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE: It is the year 3050.

The Inner Sphere has entered a time of relative peace, after the carnage of the Fourth Succession War and the War of 3039. The Federated Commonwealth has united House Davion and House Steiner, making them the most powerful realm in the Sphere of known space.

The years have been good to the Sentinels RCT. Starting as a mere two lances in 3025, it has grown to a full regiment under Calla Bighorn-Vlata. His actions during the Fourth War, the War of '39, and the Ronin War have been enough to gain the favor of the Steiner-Davions, with good contracts and the opportunity for some of the sons and daughters of the Sentinels to attend prestigious academies like the Nagelring.

Now, as the Class of 3050 prepares to graduate, Calla's daughter Sheila Arla-Vlata faces a future she's planned for, a future in her father's regiment fighting House Kurita. But no one knows what threat lurks just beyond the Periphery…

PROLOGUE

Reykjavik

Rasalhague, Free Rasalhague Republic

16 July 3050

"Come on, you assholes," Sheila Arla-Vlata murmured to herself. Even if she'd yelled it at the top of her lungs over her Shruiken's loudspeakers, she doubted the Clan OmniMechs down the broad avenue would have given no response. She wondered if she should. The Clans sometimes were vulnerable to losing their temper. Maybe she could goad them into attacking her piecemeal? She dismissed the thought. No, this was Clan Wolf, and the Wolves seemed to be pretty good about not letting themselves get rattled.

Sheila slammed a fist onto the side panel of her cockpit. She wasn't sure who she was more angry at—Clan Wolf or the Free Rasalhague Republic. The weakest of the Successor States—if the FRR could be called one—the Royal Kungsarme should have been screaming for help long before Clan Wolf arrived over their capital world. Instead, with hard-nosed stubborness, they had only asked for help when the Clans' warships had come out of lightspeed at Rasalhague's main jump point. There were several units of the Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth close enough, but the only one Duke of Tamar Selvin Kelswa would release was the Sentinels RCT-despite the Sentinels still recovering from their own brush with Clan Jade Falcon, and the Sentinels being mercenaries, which the FRR loathed. Still, it was better than nothing, and the FRR allowed the Sentinels' Alpha Battalion to land on Rasalhague just ahead of Clan Wolf's invasion forces…and then promptly left them to fend for themselves, not even allowing the Sentinels' officers to attend strategy meetings.

This was why Sheila was leading an ad hoc lance, optimistically named the Clan Eaters, made up on the fly and sent into combat. The 1st Drakons had posted Sheila's lance on the southwestern side of the city, where nothing was happening—except that the Clan commander had decided to flank the 1st Drakons there. Sheila was on the edge of a traffic circle, about five kilometers from the capitol's Eriksson DropPort. Down the avenue was a Clan Star that wanted control of the traffic circle and the highway interchange stack there. Sheila considered herself lucky in one thing, at least: she knew two of her three lancemates. Tooriu Kku and Mimi Stykkis had been her best friends at the Nagelring; she'd grabbed them when the lances were being thrown together. The fourth, Nkosiyabo Malinga, was a stranger. Both he and Mimi piloted Crusaders; Tooriu was in an Awesome. With her own 70-ton Shruiken, it might be enough to at least slow the Wolves down.

"Here they come!" shouted Tooriu over the open net, which wasn't proper radio procedure, but no one corrected him. He brought up the Awesome's arms.

Sheila brought up her 'Mech's right arm, which ended in over-and-under PPCs. The Clan warriors fired first, with weapons that outranged her own, and Sheila ducked beneath a story-high wall of rubble. A Gauss shell skipped off of it, missed her arm by mere feet, and sailed into the distance. She centered the crosshairs on her Heads-Up Display on the lead Wolf 'Mech—a monster that had been dubbed the Gladiator. The crosshair was red, indicating that the Clansman was still out of range. "Come on, come on," Sheila chanted, her voice rising. Finally, as another Gauss shell tore a hole out of the rubble pile, the crosshairs pulsed gold, indicating a lock. She pulled the trigger on her right joystick. "Eaters, open fire!" she ordered. It wasn't really necessary. Five azure bolts from the PPCs—two from the Shruiken and three from the Awesome—blazed out at the Clan 'Mechs, followed closely by a cloud of Long-Range Missiles from the two Crusaders. Most of the fire connected, and despite her shots boiling away armor and staggering the Gladiator, the Wolves kept coming.

Heat washed through the cockpit, causing sweat to bead up on the exposed skin on her arms and legs, but Sheila ignored it, sparing only a glance at the heat gauge on her instrument panel, which showed still in the green. Thank God for double heat sinks! She fired again, this time at a smaller, skinnier 'Mech, what was codenamed Fenris. Her shots caused the Wolf warrior to duck behind a building, and the Wolf charge stopped as the other warriors followed, Sheila's opposite number realizing his opponents were in good cover.

Sheila was glad to let her 'Mech cool off a bit; the heat had climbed briefly into the lower red. Both sides now resorted to sniping at each other, neither one hitting anything. Okay, if I was that Wolf guy—or girl, I suppose—what would I do? Sheila asked herself. She looked to her left and right; the Shruiken's head, slaved to her neurohelmet's movements, aped her motion. My flanks are in the air. So I'd send my lights and mediums around. Might take them a bit—it's a built-up area, so it would be slow going, but they could do it. Depends on if this Clanner has any patience. The Jade Falcons didn't on Persistence, anyway. She looked up at the smoky sky. Or I'd call in an airstrike.

"Tango Echo One, this is Tango Alpha Three, come in," her radio crackled. It was the voice of Maximillian Canis-Vlata. She was glad to hear his voice; he was another good friend.

"Alpha Three, Echo One, go."

"Echo One, the Drakons just lost Valkyrie. You'd better fall back."

Sheila looked down at the map display. Nora Valkyrie Square was to the north. If there were Wolves there, they could come down Mansdotter Avenue and roll her up from the right flank. "Roger that, Alpha Three. Falling back to the Sig Flyover."

"Understood, Echo One. We'll try to get someone over to you. Alpha Three out."

Sheila switched frequencies to her lance net. "Eaters, we just lost our right flank. Let's drop back to the stack. Lance, check in."

"Mimi, got it."

"Tooriu, rog."

"Nkosiyabo, roger that."

The Sig Andersen Flyover was three blocks behind them. The lance moved back as quickly as they could, and Sheila wondered when the Wolves would figure out that they were gone. She didn't have long to wait: a light 'Mech, a Dasher, came tearing out of a side street; Sheila had no time to compliment herself on being right about a flanking move. The Dasher came right at her, spitting laserfire that took chunks out of her armor. Sheila had read the intelligence reports on this one, knowing that it was the fastest 'Mech in existence, but it paid for the speed with paper-thin armor. She tried to ignore the hits, leveled her PPCs, and opened fire. Both caught the Dasher high in the chest. It twisted and fell, skidding down the street, to end up nearly at her feet, its gyro gone.

The Dasher pilot had evidently timed his attack just a hair too soon, because the rest of the Star now advanced as well. This time the Sentinel 'Mechs did not have the benefit of cover, and the Clans methodically moved forward in quick runs from building to building, keeping up a steady and accurate fire. Sheila grimaced as a large laser shot took off half the armor on her right leg: the Clanners were incredible shots, and hitting at ranges impossible for her to respond to. Wait, something's not right here, she realized. They're shooting, but they're not really closing with us. Sure, they can take us apart at range, but that's going to take time…unless they're just trying to keep our heads down…

Too late she remembered the sky.

"Eater One, Eater Four! Aerofighters, three o'clock high!" shouted Nkosiyabo. Sheila instantly looked in that direction, just as two fighters tumbled out of the sky, from the dim sun. They were not friendly.

"Eaters, under the stack! Hurry!" Sheila shouted. The flyover would give them overhead protection. Luckily, her slowest 'Mech, Tooriu's ponderous Awesome, was already under the bridge, and Sheila got her Shruiken under cover quickly. Mimi turned and ran, risking a back shot to avoid the strafe, but Nkosiyabo suddenly stopped and raised his Crusader's arms at the diving fighters.

"Nkosi, for God's sake, get under cover!" Sheila screamed at him, but he ignored her. He was shouting a war cry of his people, the legendary Zulu of southern Africa, who had stood their ground as well. Sheila didn't know if Nkosiyabo was trying to cover Mimi's retreat, or just was so frustrated at being forced to retreat again that he was taking it out on something he could hit. His missiles found one of the Aerofighters; it fluttered slightly and broke off its run. The other remained on target, opening fire with a blistering fusillade of laserfire. The ground around the Crusader seemed to rise up around Nkosiyabo as concrete ruptured and vaporized, then the 'Mech itself was hit. Nkosiyabo managed to get off another broadside of missiles, which went wide, before the Crusader was driven to one knee by the volume of fire. Nkosiyabo struggled to get up as the Wolf fighter climbed back into the sky, and then the Crusader vanished in a fireball as the missile magazines detonated.

Sheila didn't have time to mourn the man she'd barely known, because the Wolf 'Mechs took advantage of the strafe to cover the ground: the Fenris, along with a lighter Puma and a heavier Loki, ran forward, as the Gladiator held back to provide covering fire. Sheila leaned out from the overpass' gigantic pylon, a thick tube of concrete that held up half a kilometer of bridge, and snapped a few shots off. None hit.

Mimi Stykkis, screaming curse words incoherently, suddenly loomed out of the smoke from Nkosiyabo's funeral pyre. Her LRMs were out of ammunition, but her leg-mounted Short-Range Missiles and the medium lasers on her arms were still operational. The sudden appearance of the other Crusader brought the Wolves up short, as they turned to deal with a sudden threat on their flank, while Tooriu stepped out from cover, shrugged off a PPC hit like an annoying fly, and turned his PPCs on the Loki. Sheila kept up her fire on the Gladiator, landing two hits. This seemed to enrage the Clan MechWarrior, who returned fire with a vengeance. Sheila yelped and ducked back behind the pylon as two Gauss shells and a lot of laserfire gouged out a good portion of it. Sheila, with alarm, saw the overpass actually shake, and for a moment, she thought it was coming down.

That gave her an idea.

"Tooriu!" she yelled. "Shoot the bridge support!" Tooriu saw what she had in mind, pivoted in place, and opened fire with all three PPCs on the Awesome. Sheila switched to the four medium lasers in the chest of the Shruiken and lanced into it as well. The pylon shook, but didn't crumble.

Tooriu decided that the best approach was the direct one. He charged the Awesome into the pylon. Huge sheets of concrete fell from it, and Sheila thought that she saw the overpass begin to sway, but it resolutely stayed in place.

The Clan commander abruptly figured out what she was trying to do. The Loki and the Puma went after Tooriu, while Mimi and the Fenris continued to duel, even if the Crusader was coming off second best. "Mimi, fall back!" Sheila ordered.

"What the fuck do you think I'm trying to do?" Mimi shot back. The Fenris was twice as fast as her heavier 'Mech.

The Loki's twin PPCs actually did significant damage to the Awesome, but a quick switch to infrared told Sheila that the Clan 'Mech was running hot; unlike so many of the enemy machines, the Loki didn't seem to be able to shed heat as well. She sighted on the Loki and brought up her left arm. It ended in a battlefist, but underneath the wrist was a single-shot SRM-2. Both missiles hit the Loki, and came apart in spurts of clear liquid across its chest. The jellylike Inferno fluid ignited on contact with the air and turned the Loki into a torch. The MechWarrior staggered backwards, out of the fight, as flames roared up the side: the Inferno fluid wouldn't melt the 'Mech, but it would certainly overload its heat sinks, threatening to roast the pilot alive. The Puma sighted its weapons on Sheila, but Tooriu, with surprising agility, planted one huge foot, grabbed the light OmniMech in the Awesome's thick arms, and tossed it bodily into the pylon.

Deep fissures appeared, then quickly widened and ran upwards with terrifying speed. "Move!" Sheila shouted, as the pylon sagged, then collapsed over on one side—what it was designed to do in case of accidental collapse. It fell away from the rapidly retreating Sheila and Tooriu, and carried the overpass with it in one huge, single piece. It crashed to the ground in a dust cloud of titanic proportions, hiding the entire battlefield from view.

Sheila switched to infrared again. The overpass had landed in such a fashion that she'd accidentally turned it into a high wall, hiding the Fenris and Gladiator from view. The Puma was gone, buried under tons of concrete, only its feet sticking out. The Awesome lumbered into view, its armor pitted and shattered, but still standing proudly upright, covered in dust. "You okay, Tooriu?" she asked.

"Oh, hell yeah," Tooriu laughed. "That's what that little bastard gets for taking his eyes off me! I want the kill for that one." The fact that another living being had just died at his hands was something Tooriu would consider later, if at all. MechWarriors liked to pretend that enemy 'Mechs were not piloted by flesh-and-blood humans.

Sheila scanned around, trying to find Mimi. Then she saw the Crusader—or at least half of it. The upper torso and head were visible in the dust, but nothing else. "Mimi, are you okay?"

"Roger; I'm fine." Her voice sounded pained. "My 'Mech is a different story. Both legs are gone."

"Okay. Tooriu, grab one arm and I'll get the other." Sheila quickly moved her 'Mech forward, praying that the Clan 'Mechs didn't have jumpjets, as Tooriu did the same. With an audible screech of protesting metal, they dragged the Crusader out of the smashed concrete. Both legs of the 'Mech were gone below the knee, and ruptured lubricants streamed into the dust like blood. Assuming the Clans didn't interfere, they could drag the damaged 'Mech back to the DropPort.

"Tango Echo One from Alpha Six," came a new, authoritative voice over Sheila's radio—the voice of her father and commander, Calla Bighorn-Vlata. "Sitrep."

"Alpha Six, Tango Echo," Sheila replied. "We're falling back to the rally point. I have one KIA, and we're dragging back a busted 'Mech with an okay MechWarrior."

"Tango Echo, your signal is Juliet, I say again, Juliet. Get the hell out of there. There's two Stars of Wolves headed down the highway straight at you." Juliet meant that the Sentinels were pulling everything back to the DropPort, prepatory to retreating offplanet.

Mimi, listening in, heard Calla's warning. "Sheila, Mimi. Take off."

"We're not leaving you, Mimi!" Sheila tried to pull harder, make her Shruiken go faster, but neither her 'Mech nor the Awesome were exactly speedy.

"Who said anything about leaving me? The Clanners won't bother with a wrecked 'Mech or one person on foot. I'll head towards the rally point. The Wolves have to sort their lines out—I'll be back by then!"

Sheila stopped pulling. Mimi was right. The Clans wouldn't bother with one escaping MechWarrior—and if the Sentinels were in disarray, probably the Wolves were too. It was only a few kilometers, and Mimi was a good runner. She would make it. Probably. "Okay, Mimi. If you're out too late, we might have to come after you."

"My transponder freq is 129.68. I'll be running like hell. Get clear, you two!"

Carefully, they left the shattered Crusader against a ruined building. Sheila couldn't see Mimi; the viewport was too cracked and small. She waved anyway. Tooriu radioed, "Good luck, Mimi," and then both retreated down the street, into a business district.

Mimi powered down her 'Mech and waited for a few minutes. Two Clan 'Mechs eventually walked by, but seeing no signs of life from the Crusader, passed her by. When the footfalls had faded, Mimi unstrapped, opened the storage locker behind the seat, and took out a jacket and a pair of pants. She safetied the ejection seat, then struggled into the clothing and opened the overhead hatch. Smoky and cool air drifted into the cockpit, which actually felt good after the heat of battle. Mimi checked her surroundings, reached back, and got a pistol and a thermite grenade from the locker. No one knew if the Clans bothered with salvage, but Mimi wasn't about to let the Wolves have her beloved 'Mech. She took one last look down at the cockpit, where she'd spent some of the longest minutes of her life, then pulled the pin on the grenade and tossed it in. She slid off the head as it exploded, starting a fire that would consume the cockpit. She hopped from the Crusader's shoulder to some rubble, picked her way down, and sprinted into the gloomy twilight.

ONE YEAR BEFORE

Kell Hall, The Nagelring Military Academy

Tharkad, District of Donegal, Federated Commonwealth

9 May 3049

Sheila Arla-Vlata walked into the dorm room. Walked was probably not the correct term; dragged herself in was a better one. She managed to reach her bed and fell down face first onto it.

Her roommate, Mimi Stykkis, stuck her head out of the bathroom. "You alive there, Snowbird?"

"Quit calling me that," Sheila murmured, her voice muffled by the pillow. Mimi had learned Sheila's parents' nickname for her two weeks ago, and the teasing had been merciless.

"Why not? It sounds cool." Mimi went back to plucking her eyebrows. "I wish I had a cool nickname. The only nickname I've ever had is Mimi the Preemie when I was little." She turned to one side. "Son of a bitch! I'm getting a damn zit. Right on my ass." She grabbed some makeup to try and cover the blemish.

Sheila managed to gather enough energy to turn over in bed. "Mimi, it's ten days to graduation. Please tell me you're not going to what you refer to as a job."

"It's not a job if you enjoy it."

Sheila braced her arms underneath herself, then, after two tries, got to her feet. She leaned against the entrance to the tiny bathroom; it was too small for the both of them at once. Mimi was dressed in what could only generously called underwear: a lacy red bra that pushed up her small breasts, and a red thong that emphasized her slender figure. Mimi Stykkis worked hard to maintain that figure, even if being a MechWarrior didn't cause her to sweat off what little body fat she had. She was more cute than beautiful, but she was satisfied with that. "Mimi, if the Nagelring catches you…and they find out you've been moonlighting as an exotic dancer off-campus…" Sheila warned.

Mimi winked at her roommate. "But they're not gonna find out, are they? You're not going to rat me out, Sheila; you would've done it after I started doing this, and that was a year ago." She shrugged. "Besides, I doubt there's a person in Kell Hall who doesn't know I strip for extra money. No one's said anything, not even Ciro de Oquendo."

"That's because Ciro the Hero is usually in Sniffer's Row, if he can get a pass," Sheila remarked, referring to the front row around the stripper's pole. Sheila had gone into Kitty Korner, where Mimi danced, just once. She'd been so disgusted that she hadn't stayed long. Then again, she wasn't exactly the intended clientele. And, Sheila had to admit, Mimi made some very good money. People wondered how Mimi Stykkis, who came from a poor family, had more running-around money than everyone in the dorm, even some royalty.

"Hey, his C-Bills spend the same way everyone else does." She pulled open the front of her panties. "You see any stubble? Think I need to shave again?"

"Ugh." Sheila turned away, blushing.

Mimi laughed. "God, Sheila. You're so easy to embarrass. We've lived together for four years; you've seen everything I have to offer and more."

"Four very long years." Sheila moved aside to let Mimi pass. There were casual clothes thrown over the back of a chair. Seniors at the Nagelring were allowed to leave campus out of uniform, which was a good thing: if cadets in uniform were caught in an out-of-bounds area—and Kitty Korner was very out of bounds—it was grounds for censure and possible expulsion.

"C'mon, Sheila. They weren't all bad." She slapped Sheila on the rear as she walked past. "You were such a prude when we got here! You dressed like you were Amish or something, all prim and proper. You were flat-chested and might as well have worn a sign saying 'bully me hard.' Then the back end of puberty hit you like a frigging truck, and now look at you!" She turned and shoved Sheila into the bathroom. "I mean, look!"

Sheila did—not that she had much choice, because Mimi grabbed her jaw and made her look in the mirror. Mimi wasn't wrong: when Sheila had arrived for her freshman year at the Nagelring, coming in on an invite from Morgan Kell himself, she had been below average height and gawky. Now she was six feet tall, with most of her height in her legs, and she'd certainly developed everywhere else. Black hair pulled back in a ponytail framed a face that had a severe beauty about it, or so she'd been told. Mimi's hands moved down and hoisted Sheila's impressive bust. "If I had tits like that, I'd be able to buy my own 'Mech by now, instead of running around in an old-ass Crusader."

"Can you please quit groping me?" Sheila asked, shoving Mimi back into the main room.

Mimi wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, I could do more than that, if you were willing and weren't already nuts over that hunk you're with." She fluttered her eyes and clasped her hands as if in prayer. "'Oh, Tooriu! You're so big and muscular! You make my heart flutter and totally make me forget about my crush on Victor Steiner-Davion! He's sooo much shorter and his dick is nowhere near as big as yours!'"

"Shut up," Sheila told her, though she was smiling. "If you put as much effort into learning as you put into sex, you'd be graduating at the top of the class, rather than towards the bottom."

"You said bottom." Mimi got dressed. "And sex is more fun than learning anyway." She'd put the bare minimum into her time at the Nagelring, seeing the school as more of a place to have fun than actually learn the trade of being a MechWarrior and officer. It never ceased to amaze Sheila when Mimi would sneak out for a night in Tharkad City and come back at 3 AM—assuming she came back that early—and yet still manage a C- average. Sheila might have suspected Mimi of sleeping with one or two professors if she hadn't seen the vivacious girl come close to beating the La Mancha scenario, the hardest exercise in the cirriculum. Sheila hadn't lasted ten minutes in La Mancha, but Mimi had managed over an hour, her score only bested by no less than Prince Steiner-Davion himself.

"You going over to Tooriu's tonight?" Mimi asked.

Sheila blushed again. "Yeah, probably."

"Well, don't stay out too late, and make sure you use protection."

"Yes, Mom." Sheila rolled her eyes.

"See, right there!" Mimi pointed at her as she zipped up her skirt with the other hand. "That's just what I mean! You've grown up, girl! If I had said that during our trey year, you would've freaked out and gotten all embarassed and gone to confession or something. Now you're making jokes and having a good time. You don't even get pissed when I slap your ass. When I told you I was bi, you freaked out and wouldn't even come out of the bathroom unless you were fully dressed." Mimi pulled her hair back into a ponytail as well. "Sheila Allegra Arla-Vlata, all grown up."

"Whatever."

"And my bestie." Mimi stood on tiptoe and kissed Sheila's cheek. "You're a good kid, Sheila. And you're going to graduate in the top echelon of the class, go out and get your lance command back home, and eventually become commander of the regiment when your papa retires. Probably below the zone, too. And me? I'll be lucky if I have a lance ever, and I'll probably get all fat and shit, marry some old fart, and not even be able to get in a 'Mech, let alone pilot one."

"Well, that just takes all the fun out of—" They both turned when they heard yelling in the hallway. "What the hell?"

They walked to the door and opened it, sticking their heads out. It was Renny Sanderlin, who was capering down the hallway, whooping like a mental patient. "Gad, what's wrong with him?" Mimi remarked. "He just win the Lyran Lottery or something?"

"He just found out his fiancee is going to be coming for graduation." Both women turned at the voice, though Sheila had to look down. Prince Victor Steiner-Davion was nearly half a foot shorter than she was, which left him eye level with her chest. He took a step back and turned a little red. So did Sheila. Mimi had not lied: when they had all begun at the Nagelring, Sheila had nursed a terrible crush on the heir to the thrones of the Federated Suns and Lyran Commonwealth. Sanderlin was Victor's roommate, and the two, despite being from very different backgrounds, had become fast friends.

Mimi ran forward and hugged Renny. "Congratulations!" she yelled.

"Thanks, Mimi!" Renny hopped around and hugged her back, lifting her off her feet. "I haven't seen Rebecca in a year! It's going to be great!"

"My man Renny's going to get laaaaid!" Mimi sang out. Renny was too happy to do more than laugh.

"Oh God." Sheila covered her eyes.

Victor only laughed. "Well, I guess that is sort of true." He shook his head and smiled. "How do you live with her, Sheila? I've always wondered."

"When I figure it out, I'll let you know." Sheila smiled back. Even just a year or two ago, Sheila would've fallen over herself trying to curtsey and even talk to the young man, who would become the most powerful human being in the Inner Sphere once his parents retired. Victor had been quick to insist that his classmates treat him as just another cadet; she'd seen him get visibly angry when he'd caught other cadets deliberately losing to him in training scenarios. It didn't help that Victor was rarely without his security detail outside the dorms. After months of trying, finally the other cadets had just accepted the Prince as merely Victor, or even Vic. It had helped that Victor himself was affable; he was a hard man to dislike. Even Sheila had finally stopped tripping over her own voice; she and Victor were not close friends, but good acquiantances.

"Are your parents able to make graduation?" Victor asked.

"Looks that way. Luckily Grunwald's just a jump from Tharkad, so it's pretty easy to make the trip—even with the Sentinels getting ready for the change in station."

"Any idea where?"

Sheila figured she might as well tell Victor; it wasn't like he couldn't find out. "Persistence."

Victor made a face. "Periphery?"

"Yeah. There's a repair facility there. Pirates have gotten to be a real problem that way lately, so your dad wants my dad to keep an eye on it, maybe support the Kell Hounds if they run into anything out there. Not that the Hounds need it."

"Isn't Phelan out that way?" Victor said quietly.

"Kind of. He was on Gunzburg, last I heard. Probably irritating the shit out of the Rasalhagians." There was no love lost between Sheila Arla-Vlata and Phelan Kell. "Ah well. I'm getting a lance, and at least if my first engagement is with Redjack Ryan or someone, it'll be a lot easier than if it's against the Sword of Light or McCarron or someone. Any idea where your orders are?"

"Not yet. God only knows where they'll send me. Politics. Wherever Hohiro Kurita gets sent, I'll have to get the opposite. Knowing my luck, he'll end up on Atreus or something, and I'll get some unit out Polusbo way."

"Well, I'll put in a good word for you if you ever decide to go merc." They shared a laugh at that. "Well, you want to go separate Renny and Mimi before she makes him forget he's engaged, or you want me to do it?" Mimi's hug was now going on for a painfully long time, and she was squeezing Renny Sanderlin's rear end.

"As long as she doesn't target me next," Victor said.

Tooriu Kku had achieved that near state of nirvana that many students desired, whether or not they were in college or military academies: he had decent if not good grades, he had an attractive girlfriend, and his roommate had quit school, leaving him with a room all to himself. It even had a window, which many rooms at Kell Hall did not.

That window was steamed to the point of being opaque now, thanks to the cold Tharkad night outside, and the very warm dorm room inside. Warm, because the heat was turned up, and because the two occupants had just finished some intense lovemaking.

Sheila lay back on the bed, catching her breath. Never in her life had she been openly naked in front of someone else without suffering near-mortification levels of embarrassment. She wasn't wearing a stitch now, and neither was Tooriu Kku. She watched as he walked into the bathroom to dispose of the condom, then walked back. Sheila admired him: he was a big man, six foot four by the old Davion imperial system, muscular, with a mop of blond hair on his head and elsewhere, and—Sheila noted with satisfaction—rather well-endowed. At least she assumed he was; Tooriu was her first and only lover.

He climbed back into bed with her, grinned, and ran a rough hand over her left breast, massaging the still hardened nipple. "I think I won," he remarked.

"Yeah, you did," Sheila sighed. She rolled over to face him, and on impulse, kissed him. "I always lose. Not that I mind. How are you so good at this?"

"Practice." He realized how that must have sounded. "Er…"

Sheila laughed. "I know I'm not your first." She rolled back over, and stared at the empty bunk above his. "Mimi told me all about you after we hooked up the first time. Tonnage and armament."

Tooriu eased down onto his back. "And armor." His back had begun to hurt, now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Sheila's nails had left their mark, as they usually did. "Not that she'd know. She'd like to, though."

"Mimi doesn't nearly have as much experience in sex as she brags."

"Me neither," Tooriu admitted, though he'd had more than his share, he thought.

"Could've fooled me." Sheila sighed again. "Okay, not to sound all girly, but…cuddle?"

"You bet." He gathered her into an embrace. They were a bit sweaty, but Tooriu didn't mind. It wasn't long before Sheila's breathing subsided and he realized she'd fallen asleep. He drew a light cover up over them and held his lover. Despite the male stereotype, Tooriu was not sleepy. He had too much on his mind.

It wasn't graduation. Tooriu Kku—his odd name came from his adoptive parents on Bharat, who were weird by their own admission—had no business being at the Nagelring, but had managed to win a scholarship there. He'd worked hard, knowing that as a nobody from an obscure world, from a fairly obscure mercenary unit, he would be under a lot of pressure to drop out. Strangely enough, he wasn't: Tooriu was such a friendly person that even people who despised mercenaries found him impossible to dislike. Tooriu simply refused to be offended, and his large size kept him from being intimidated. He piloted his 80-ton Awesome like other MechWarriors piloted 20-ton Stingers, and while he might not graduate towards the top of the class, he maintained an above average score. In between, he'd found time to enjoy his stay at the Nagelring. Tooriu had learned at an early age to take what life threw at him with an easy smile and the occasional middle finger.

It made his current situation all the stranger. Tooriu had carried on affairs not long after figuring out what the opposite sex was, and there were a few female cadets who looked at him with a knowing smile. He'd never had anything that had lasted. Tooriu wanted to, but it had never been there. Then he'd met Sheila Arla-Vlata.

He'd known her, of course. Tooriu's parents were techs, though his grandfather had been a MechWarrior of some renown among the Capellan Confederation. When their unit had been annihilated during the Fourth Succession War, they'd joined the Sentinels. Growing up in the regiment, he'd sort of known Sheila, the commander's daughter, but Sheila had a different circle of friends, and they'd only really gotten beyond casual greetings when they'd ended up at the Nagelring together. After watching Sheila fill out admirably, Tooriu, on impulse, had asked her on a date. Sheila had been utterly surprised: at the Nagelring, she was painfully shy, all too aware that mercenaries weren't liked unless they had a pedigree like the Kell Hounds—and even then. Unlike Tooriu, Sheila had run into a great deal of bullying. It had stopped, but she still seemed to be stunned that anyone would even talk to her, let alone a man. Her status as a mercenary, a sense of aloofness, and her height tended to put males off of Sheila Arla-Vlata, but Tooriu was not bothered by any of those things.

She stirred in his arms, but it was just to find a more comfortable sleeping position. They had gone out on a few dates, enough for Tooriu to discover that beneath the shy exterior was fire. When he'd had her over for "vids and chill," that was when she had suddenly stood up, dropped her skirt and panties, and sat astride him. He'd taken her virginity that night; all the stories he'd heard about virgins not enjoying their first time were not true when it came to Sheila Arla-Vlata. Since then, they ended up in bed more often than not. Tooriu didn't mind, even if she seemed insatiable sometimes. Sheila didn't seem to understand that there was something called the male refractory period.

And it bothered him. Not the sex, but what lay behind it, and in front of it. He didn't love Sheila. She was a great partner, with a devilishly inventive mind, but something was missing. Graduation wasn't far off, and then what? They would both be returning to the Sentinels. Should they continue their relationship there? What would happen in Sheila's parents found out? Calla Bighorn-Vlata was the regimental commander, and had a reputation for being overprotective of his only daughter. Her mother, Arla Bighorn-Vlata, was just as protective or worse; she commanded the Sentinel Light Infantry. Technically, they were both past their majority—Sheila would be in August, and Tooriu already was—but 18 or not, Tooriu figured that both Calla and Arla would soon be demanding that rings end up on fingers. And he didn't love Sheila, much less want to spend the rest of his life with her.

Tooriu almost woke her up to tell her, to let her know they needed to call it off. He was about to when she rolled over in her sleep, which left her rear up against his groin. That made the situation harder, as it were, and Tooriu decided against it, hating himself. Instead, he just rested his chin in Sheila's raven hair. He'd tell her tomorrow. Or sometime soon.