AUTHOR'S NOTES: We finally get some 'Mech combat in this chapter. For those of you keeping score at home, this chapter takes place between Chapter 35 and 36 of Lethal Heritage.

Oh, and if you're like me and like to listen to music when you write or read, the music I used here was "Battle in the Mutara Nebula" from the Star Trek II soundtrack. It's quite appropriate, as you will see...

The Cloisters

Twycross, Jade Falcon Occupation Zone

10 September 3050

Calla Bighorn-Vlata was in a large tent, with various lines and wires snaking out of it, his Battlemaster parked behind it. He was leaning back in a campaign chair in front of a holotank, unconcernedly munching on bratwurst. Around him were a few Sentinel staff officers, but no one seemed to be in any hurry. He saw Sheila walk in and smiled. "Hey, kiddo. Any problems?"

Sheila almost answered no, dad but then remembered that, at the moment, they were commanding officer and subordinate, not father and daughter. Calla could get away with calling her kiddo, but she could not return the easy familiarity. "No, sir. The Kell Hounds are down at DZ Meroune, and Jungblud's company is passing through their lines. We got down without any issues." Other than me being scared shitless, but you don't need to know that, Dad.

"Good job," Calla said. "Get some food for you and your lance. I think we're probably done for the day once Elfa gets in. We'll let the Hounds and the House regulars earn their pay."

"Suits me fine, sir," Sheila said. "I've seen all the Falcons I want to see for awhile."

Calla went back to his bratwurst, washing it down with soda. "Ugh. I could go for a cold beer." Sheila came to attention and began to leave. Calla called after her. "Sheila, get some chow, but don't go too far—just in case."

"Yes, sir." She winked at him—he was her dad, after all—and left the tent.

Sheila's lance quickly found some food; some wise person in the AFFC Quartermaster Department had wisely laid in hamburgers and more bratwurst, in self-heating food packs. They found a corner of a tent that was being used by Nicia Caii's techs, who paid the MechWarriors no mind, mainly because they were eating lunch as well. There had been no combat for the Sentinels, so the techs had nothing to do either. From the command tent next door, Sheila caught bits of the battle as she ate: the 9th F-C had successfully landed in the Diabolis, and a Jade Falcon force of Cluster strength had been spotted heading towards the Plain of Curtains—exactly what they were supposed to do.

Elfa Brownoak walked into the tent, looking worn out. "Oh, I thought this was where the food was."

Sheila got up, dusting off her MechWarrior shorts; Twycross' sand seeped into the tents and everywhere else. "I'll show you." She led Elfa out of the tent towards where the quartermaster had theirs. "How was the drop?"

"A cast-iron bitch," Elfa smiled tiredly. "Felt like Dorothy in that damn hurricane. We were lucky to survive, let alone land within spitting distance of the DZ. Couldn't even jump. Mike Vragel tried it and almost ended up on the moon. Got the beacon placed, and damn if the 9th F-C didn't almost land on top of us. Damn fine drop—first time I've almost been run over by a DropShip."

They ducked into the tent. Sheila helped herself to another hamburger and soda, while Elfa piled her plate with brats and settled for water. "See any Clanners?" Sheila asked.

Elfa nodded. "Sure as hell did. From a distance, thank God. Almost thought it was the Kell Puppies until Larry Stohr saw a Fenris."

"A Fenris?" That surprised Sheila. The Clan garrison unit wasn't supposed to have OmniMechs.

"Yeah. Way off, though, and a single. Probably a recon. On the way in, the 10th Lyran reported spotting Inner Sphere-type 'Mechs with Jade Falcon insignia, so they probably only have a couple of Omnis." Elfa tore off a piece of bratwurst. "Man alive, I would love to get my mitts on one of those."

"Wouldn't we all. Any Toads?"

"Didn't see any. Probably not dumb enough to go walking around in a hurricane." Elfa took a long drink of water. "Sheila, between you and me, someone gives me a shit job like that again, I'm telling them to ram it up their ass. I don't care if it's your dad." She grabbed another bottle of water and headed back outside. The wind had abated, so it was just a matter of shuffling through a thin layer of sand. "How about you?"

Sheila shrugged. "Other than getting the bejesus scared out of us on the drop, we didn't do anything but place a beacon and be bored." She told Elfa about the Clan fighters. "Not that I'm complaining. I'd be happy to sit this one out."

"How's Max?"

Sheila hesitated, asking herself if it was just Elfa making conversation or if she knew. She hoped she wasn't blushing. "He's good."

Elfa looked like she was about to say something else when Calla came out of the tent. Sheila and Elfa came to attention; Sheila saluted, but Elfa, with her hands full, made a sort of salute with the food tray. Calla chuckled. "At ease. Sheila, Prince Victor wants to talk to you ASAP." He pointed to the rock formation. "He's on the other side there."

"Oh. Yes, sir. Probably just wants to say hi." She saluted her father again and walked briskly towards the 10th Lyran Guards' command post.

Unlike the bored, lazy atmosphere of the Sentinels' CP, the 10th Lyran's was a bustle of activity. The tents were joined together and camouflaged under netting—the Sentinels let Twycross' sand do the work—and there were people moving in and out at a rapid rate. She spotted Victor Steiner-Davion's 'Mech, appropriately a Victor. He was standing in front of it, in his MechWarrior gear, checking a report while a tech waited patiently. He looked up as Sheila approached, signed the datapad, and dismissed the tech. "Morning, Sheila—at least I think it's morning."

Sheila came to attention. "Major Arla-Vlata reporting as ordered, sir." Once more, she was reminded of how short he was, and how tall she was.

Victor waved that off. "Sheila, how's your lance?"

She spread her hands. "We're just eating lunch, sir. Other than getting jumped during the drop, we haven't seen any action."

"Okay. Look, I need you to do me a favor. Take your lance and head over to the northern end of the Great Gash and check on Jungblud. We've lost contact because of the storm, but he reported Toads in his sector. The Kell Hounds were going to send a lance over, but I think Colonel Brahe is going to have his hands full—and there's no point in having our veteran units sitting on their butt."

"Sir, are you ordering me or asking me to volunteer?"

Victor grinned. "Yes."

Sheila saluted again. "In that case, sir, we volunteer."

He laughed. "Thanks."

"You want us to go up the Gash?" Sheila remembered the map; it would be the quickest.

Victor waved his hands. "No, no. Bad idea. We just finished wiring the Gash with the pentaglycerine and vibrabombs. You can't cut across the Plain or you'll be caught up in the Kell Hounds' fight, so squeeze between them and the Gash. The Clans shouldn't be paying attention to a lance. Soon as you make contact with Jungblud, try radioing me, Milstein or Brahe and let us know what's going on. If you can't get a message out to us, you can try Kai. I just sent him over to the bottom of the Gash to keep an eye on our hospital there. Barring that, hightail it back here and send a message when you're within range. Any station—we'll get the message."

"Yes, sir. We'll move out immediately."

"Thanks, Sheila. It's appreciated." He stuck out a hand, and Sheila, smiling, took it. "Now let's show them how the Class of '50 fights."

Sheila gathered her lance and mounted up; Drax gave a theatrical groan when she gave the order, but he tossed the remains of his lunch in the garbage and ran to his Phoenix Hawk. Kaatha naturally just replied "Yes, ma'am"—which felt odd coming from someone old enough to be Sheila's mother—and headed to her Griffin.

"Your idea?" Max asked.

"Hell no," Sheila replied. "Victor voluntold us."

"Didn't think you were that bored." He quickly looked around, saw that no one was paying attention, and touched her hand. Hugging or kissing would attract attention, but this was better than nothing. "Be careful."

"You too." Sheila watched him go, then quickly reported to Calla. Once he was in the loop, it was time to get aboard her Shruiken and head out.

They went out at a run, both the Shruiken and the Hatchetman at full speed, with the Griffin at a jog and Drax's Phoenix Hawk at a steady lope, careful not to get too far ahead. The Kell Hounds' flank companies cleared them through, and they ran past the main Hound line. Already the lead elements of the Jade Falcon garrison Cluster were exchanging fire with the Hounds: evidently their Inner Sphere designs were upgraded with Clan technology, because they were hitting at the same very long ranges as usual. The Hounds weathered the storm, then gave back better than they got. The Jade Falcon commander was no fool and pulled in his leading element before they could get flanked, preparing to meet the Hounds head on. Sheila, with effort, tore her eyes away from the sight on the Plain of Curtains below her; it was someone else's war.

Her lance were now on a rise, which left them uncomfortably skylined for a moment, then they were in the broken ground that marked the edge of the Great Gash. Ravines cut across the hard ground, filled with sand, but leaving spots of dead ground a lance could take cover in, or, if they weren't careful, fall into. The wind had picked up, and Sheila could see the Diabolis' leading edge begin to blot out the sky. It was still a good deal off, but already the wind was pushing against them, forcing them to go through or around the ravines; Sheila didn't want to risk jumping into that wind. The dust blown up was starting to make visual contact difficult, so Sheila brought her lance in a little closer. It also made her feel a little better. With the wind, dust and the jumbled mass of rocks and ridges to her right, someone would have to work to see her four 'Mechs, but she felt exposed all the same. It was distressingly quiet again.

Sheila keyed her radio. "Red Three-Six, Alpha Charlie Six. Come in." She repeated the message twice, then added, "Red-Three Six, we are coming up behind you on your left rear. Please respond." There was no reply, only the hiss of static. Quickly, Sheila checked in with her own lance, which came in with a little interference, but otherwise clear. She checked her navigational display on her instrument panel. Jungblud should have been in communication range. It's the damn storm, she thought, or the terrain. There was a high ridge between her and Jungblud's position, with a gentle slope up to the top, but the ridge dominated what should be the northern entrance to the Gash. She would be able to see something from up there.

The lance took the ridge at a walk; Sheila slowed them down, afraid of a reverse-slope ambush, which wasn't likely—but Sheila knew from experience that what wasn't likely could easily become extremely certain. She tried once more. "Red Three-Six, Alpha Charlie Six. Come in." Still nothing. They reached the crest of the ridge. The wind nearly knocked them down, throwing up enough dust to obscure everything in front of them. She switched her sensors to infrared to magscan, but there were too many heat shadows, and there was nothing showing up on magscan—except right in front of her. Too small to be a 'Mech, Sheila thought, but a Toad, maybe? She brought up her PPCs: if a Toad tried to jump out of the sand, she would swat it like a fly. Get a little payback for Mimi.

Kaatha had noticed it too, but she carefully knelt her Griffin, using its free hand to scrape away a small dune of sand. At first Sheila thought it was the arm of a Marauder, but it was too blocky. "Clan weapon pod," she said aloud. Sheila moved closer and saw that one end of the arm was severed, the end blackened with melted steel and ferroaluminum. "Someone was hit, Six," Drax said over the radio. The paint had been burned as well, but the paint was a distinctive dark green. "Definitely Jade Chicken."

"Alpha Charlies, move out," Sheila ordered. "We need to find Jungblud." She reached out to turn the radio back to Jungblud's frequency, but her hand stopped. If there's Clanners out here, they might be able to home in on us. "Alpha Charlies, EMCON. Tightbeam only." She dialed back her sensors, so they could only detect about 120 meters in front of her, sacrificing range for an enemy not being able to detect her transmissions.

"Alpha Charlie Six, Four," Max radioed. "Destroyed Behemoth, one o'clock." Sheila turned in that direction and saw the still-burning wreck. The Behemoth was a hundred-ton monster of a tank, one that even MechWarriors hesitated to take on. She could tell by the still sparking fire that it had suffered a magazine explosion. She saw no bodies, but more than likely the crew was dead, killed instantly in the explosion. Sheila hoped so anyway—MechWarriors and tankers had one thing in common, in that neither wanted to burn alive in their machines.

"Alpha Charlie Three, refuse left. Charlie Two, watch the rear. Four, close in on the right." Sheila wanted Max a little closer, with Drax watching their left and Kaatha behind them. They went up another ridge, lower than the first. As they reached the top, the wind shifted as the Diabolis brushed at them, but it moved the sand and dust aside, giving Sheila a glimpse of the northern entrance of the Great Gash.

The Gash here was quite wide, with the walls only gradually rising on either side, where an ancient, long-dry river had begun its eons-long task of carving the great canyon. It was interesting from a geological standpoint, but geology was not what Sheila was interested in at the moment.

Jungblud's company was there. The problem was, they were all dead.

'Mechs lay in heaps or singly, showing where they had fell—some lances had crowded together for mutual protection, others had tried to run for the Gash or the ridge singly or in twos. Jungblud's command company was clustered at the head of the Gash: his Battlemaster lay face down, with a smoking crater in its back where the SRMs had detonated. Oh my God, Sheila thought in horror, realizing that she had only spoken to Jungblud an hour or so before. Now he was dead too.

Sheila could read what had happened: something had hit Jungblud head on, eschewing finesse for simply running over the Lyran Guard company. Jungblud had fallen back, throwing half his company into a flank attack, but that had been mowed down by a wall of fire that left the ground scorched and pitted. Jungblud had then ordered a breakout, while he covered the retreat, but none had made it: the Behemoth had been the only one to get over the ridge before it was hunted down. If there were any survivors, Sheila didn't see them. She did see a few destroyed Clan 'Mechs, but very few.

Then the wind shifted again, drawing back a wall of sand like a curtain from a stage. Sheila's mouth fell open at the sight beyond Jungblud's last stand.

There had to be fifty of them, Sheila thought even as the cold hand of fear gripped her, in one great trail, the head of which was already within the Gash. All were Clan OmniMechs, all with Jade Falcon sigils: Lokis, Pumas, Ullers, Thors, and the odd designs she now knew as Ryoken and Masakari, the names coming to the designs from Rasalhague, who had learned them from House Kurita. Toads danced around the 'Mechs as skirmishers, like pilot fish around sharks. Sheila, her eyes wide, still managed to retain enough sense to zoom in on the markings painted above the Jade Falcon patch. It looked familiar, and she tried to place it. Then she suddenly remembered, from a JOSG meeting where they had reviewed the surviving Twycross militia's holovids.

The Clan Cluster was the Falcon Guards, the unit that wasn't supposed to be onplanet at all. A map popped into Sheila's mind's eye: the Guards were advancing down the Gash, where they would boil out the other end, overrun Kai Allard-Liao's tiny lance, then the Sentinels' camp, then hit the entire AFFC force from behind.

"Holy Mother of God," Max breathed over the open channel.

"Max, get back! Get the hell back!" Sheila ordered, not bothering with callsigns. So far, none of the Clan Omnis were looking in her direction. The Shruiken and the Hatchetman moved back up the ridge. Sheila knew with terrible certainty what she had to do.

She turned the 'Mech half-around, moving the Shruiken's head southwest. She boosted the power to the radio antennas set in the 'Mech's earlike communications suite atop the pointed head. Another button switched her radio to widebeam broadcast, and she switched the frequency to a universal one, praying that her transmission had the power to punch through the approaching Diabolis and reach the Kell Hound DropShips' more powerful suite, or perhaps the 'Mechs of the 9th F-C. "Any station, any station," Sheila radioed, knowing she was committing suicide, "this is Alpha Charlie Six, authentication Texas, transmitting in the blind! Clan OmniMechs at the north end of the Gash, repeat, Clan Omnis at the northern end of the Gash. Units are identified as the Falcon Guards, Cluster strength, moving south through the Gash. Jungblud's company destroyed. I say again, the Gash is open!"

"Sheila, we've got company!" Max yelled. She turned to look, and as she had anticipated, transmitting a widebeam message in the clear meant that the Clan MechWarriors had heard every word.

"Alpha Charlie Six repeats message: the Gash is open. Falcon Guards moving south. Under attack; will transmit if able, out!" Sheila swiped her radio frequency back to her lance, and prayed someone had heard her. There was no time to wait around and find out: whoever the Falcon Guards' commander was, he was already dealing with the problem of Sheila's tiny command. A Mad Cat, Ryoken, Puma, Vulture, and a Thor had detached themselves from the main line and were running towards them. Sheila detachedly thought that was overkill: just two of the OmniMechs would be sufficient to wipe out her lance.

"Alpha Charlies, we've got five Clanners headed for us! Break contact and retreat southwest—try to make it to the Hounds!" Sheila yelled. "Two, Three, don't wait for us!"

"We're not leaving you—" Drax began.

"That's an order, Marcus! Run! Link up with someone and tell them what's going on!" Sheila watched for a moment as the Griffin and Phoenix Hawk ran up to full speed, abandoning their lancemates as ordered. Sheila knew she and Max didn't have a chance: the Clan 'Mechs could all outpace them. She turned and faced the ridge; they were now in the saddle between both of them. The Ryoken came up first, and Sheila fired both PPCs; both missed, but the Clan MechWarrior ducked back down.

Max came up beside her. "Thanks, Max," Sheila said over the radio. "Didn't want to die alone."

"We'll make somebody regret they showed up today." The Ryoken came over the ridge again, firing two large lasers at her, but the Jade Falcon's shots were no better than Sheila's. Max had better luck: his AC/10 connected, the autocannon ripping into the leg armor. The Ryoken took a step back, but now the Mad Cat and the Thor arrived. The wind was now howling like a living thing, and it saved both Sheila and Max: the LRMs from both the new arrivals went spiraling off into the distance. Sheila noted in passing that the sky was now almost entirely black.

And then, without warning and with a fury unmatched by anything mankind could ever achieve, the Diabolis was on them.

A wall of sand seemed to hit the Hatchetman all at once, nearly knocking Max down. Visibility instantly plunged to near zero, and it was like a curtain of darkness had dropped. He could see nothing through the sand. Max cycled through infrared, which was useless, and magscan, which was fuzzy but showed something in front of him, about 300 meters distant. Sheila? Max wondered.

He was answered by four ruby bolts sizzling out of the sand. Two went wide, but two others blasted armor from his torso and right arm. Max felt the Hatchetman toppling backwards and held on, hoping his straps were tight. The 'Mech fell into a bed of soft sand, cushioning the landing a little. It still felt like someone had kicked him in the back. As he tried to shake off the fall, he checked the 'Mech's diagnostic display. It showed major damage to his right side; another hit there would likely be fatal. The fall had crushed all of his right torso rear armor. Still, there was no penetration, even there: the sand had saved him from that, at least. He stayed down, searching around the Hatchetman, but there was nothing there.

Slowly, Max got his 'Mech back on its feet and started heading south, out of the ridge saddle. Magscan got worse, the iron content in the sand turning his readouts into static that only cleared occasionally. The only upside Max could think of was that the Clans' sensors were probably no better off.

It was now a game of blind man's bluff, where the losers died.

"I've got to find Sheila," Max said aloud, mainly because he felt very alone. Except for the Diabolis howling at him and sand hitting the windscreen like bullets, it was suddenly quiet. He thought about switching on the Hatchetman's running lights, but decided against it: it would be like turning on a flashlight in a dark room.

Abruptly, the magscan detected something to his right. Max whirled the Hatchetman around and nearly fired his lasers, but then he saw through the sand that it was just an outcropping of rock. He checked his compass, and headed south, hoping Sheila had done the same. It seemed slightly more clear that way, anyway.

Twice more, Max got enough of a reading that he thought there was something there, at the edge of his sensor range or in the corner of his eye, but when he turned, it was either gone or was a dervish of sand, playing tricks on him. Sweat trickled down his back, even though the cockpit was not warm. There was another hit off of magscan, and this time Max thought he saw a flash of blue light. "A PPC?" Max asked himself. Something muffled came through the wind, and Max switched to infrared for a second. It was not a 'Mech blowing up, which would've produced heat and light even through the blowing sand and darkness. The infrared showed a faint heat trail, so Max headed in that direction. It took him more southwest, away from the Gash, but that was more than fine with him. He switched back to magscan and was rewarded with a beep. There was something out there, and it was manmade.

Max stopped, thinking he had noticed something in the sand. He was right: though they were being rapidly covered in sand, there was burned armor plates in the dunes, and triple-toed footprints leading further into the storm. None of their lance had feet like that, so it had to be Clan. He slowed to a bare walk, hoping he wasn't being drawn into an ambush. He cycled through his sensors again, and infrared showed a hot target ahead of him, and it was moving just slightly faster than he was. The sand parted for just a moment, enough for Max to see the distinctive hunched-over form of the Ryoken. Though even Max was within range, the Clan MechWarrior appeared not to see him, oblivious to the Hatchetman coming up behind him. The sand blew back in, but now Max was close enough to make out its shadowy form in the murk. Max kept his targeting computer off: the moment he locked on, the Clan warrior would know it.

Finally, Max was as close as he dared, only 90 meters away, the Ryoken a blur in front of him, walking slowly, its torso moving from side to side as the MechWarrior scanned for targets. Max flipped on his targeting suite, dropping the crosshairs onto the Ryoken's back, and cut loose with everything he had at short range. The autocannon chopped through the back of the Clan 'Mech, while the red laser beams carved a double rent, melting through the rear armor. The Jade Falcon MechWarrior was caught by surprise and nearly fell, trying to turn on unsteady feet to bring his right arm to bear. Max never gave his opponent a chance. He was already moving forward, and with the mass of the Clan 'Mech filling his windscreen, Max brought the Hatchetman's namesake down, through what little remained of the rear armor. A shower of sparks lit up the darkness, the Ryoken seemed to almost jerk spasmodically, then it tumbled forward, landing hard in the sand. "Son of a bitch!" Max exclaimed. "I hit the bastard's gyro!" He could see the MechWarrior trying to get up, so he smashed the hatchet down again. If anything remained of the gyro, the mechanism that kept any 'Mech upright, the second strike obliterated it. The Ryoken was not dead, but it might as well be, the MechWarrior inside now trapped in a 'Mech that could not move. "That's for Jungblud, you prick!" Max shouted, though there was no way his erstwhile opponent could hear him, even if he switched on the external speakers. Max backed away from the wrecked Ryoken, feeling rather proud of himself. "Not bad, not bad," he said to no one in particular. "Took out an Omni. Wonder if I can pull that trick twice?"

Suddenly he realized that, while he had been stalking the Ryoken, someone had been stalking him.

The lasers came out of nowhere, concentrating on his right leg. First the armor boiled away, then the myomers, then the ferroaluminum bone itself. The Hatchetman crashed down again, but Max tried to roll with the fall, bringing his autocannon in line with whatever had shot him. He fired and saw sparks, indicating he had hit something, but whatever it was didn't seem to be impressed. A shadow loomed out of the sandstorm, and two more lasers blasted him to the ground again. As Max struggled to right the Hatchetman, alarms telling him he had penetrations in the 'Mech's torso and that the autocannon was disabled.

He looked up, and knew he was a dead man. Just like on Blackjack, it was a Mad Cat. Its armor was pitted and scarred with laser and shell hits, and by the sandstorm, but whatever damage it had taken, it wasn't enough to give him an iota of a chance. The Mad Cat stopped and brought its arms forward, like an executioner readying for the final strike—which, Max thought, was a rather apt analogy. He was surprised that he wasn't afraid, just frustrated.

"MAX! ROLL!"

Max had no idea where Sheila was, but despite the pop of static, he heard her clearly. Not sure why, he threw the Hatchetman to one side. The Mad Cat easily tracked the crippled Inner Sphere 'Mech, but then there was a shattering crash audible over the Diabolis, then the shriek of metal on metal. Max could not see what was happening, but the ground actually shook around him. For a moment, even the Diabolis itself seemed unsure what had happened, as the wind slackened for a moment and it was quiet. Max tried to move the Hatchetman back over, and thought he heard the squeal of a tortured actuator somewhere. There were pieces of metal glinting everywhere, visible even through the darkness. Max managed to turn to his left, sitting the Hatchetman roughly up, and said an oath as he saw what had happened.

The Mad Cat was less than 30 meters away, lying spreadeagled in the sand. One missile launcher hung askew, sparking in the murk, and its left shoulder was nothing more than wreckage. It was the bulbous torso and head that had taken the worst of whatever had hit the Mad Cat, however. A gigantic dent began between the missile launchers and carried forward to the glasshouse cockpit, which looked smashed. Already sand was sifting into the open cockpit, and there was no movement inside that Max could see.

Then another 'Mech slowly came into view. "Max? Are you okay?" The Shruiken came out of the sand, itself scored with the scars of battle, but he could see huge cracks in the leg armor, and one actuator actually stuck out of the right leg, giving the Shruiken a limp; he could hear the squeal of tortured metal again as she moved.

Max was grinning like an idiot and didn't care. "Sheila?"

"In the slightly bruised flesh." The twin PPC arm came around to bear on the Mad Cat. "Is it dead?"

"Yeah, I think so. I don't see any movement." He found that the Hatchetman's sensors were still operational, so he did a quick scan: except for himself, Sheila, the dead Mad Cat, and the crippled Ryoken at the edge of his range, they seemed to be alone. "What in God's name did you hit him with?"

"Uh…" Sheila sounded almost embarrassed. "I sort of hit him with my 'Mech."

"You mean you punched—" Then the truth dawned on him. "Holy shit! You DFA'ed him?"

"Yeah, and don't ask me how in this fucking wind." He heard her breathing hard, and her voice sounded a little muffled.

"Holy shit," Max repeated. DFA was MechWarrior slang for Death From Above. It was an all-or-nothing attack that involved a jump-capable 'Mech leaping high in the air and literally crashing down on an opponent. When done right, it would drive the heavily armored feet of a 'Mech into the vulnerable upper torso and head of another, but even in perfect conditions, it was hard to pull off. Though Death From Aboves looked good on holovids, it rarely worked in real life: usually the 'Mech about to be crashed into shot back, throwing the jumping 'Mech off its trajectory, which would end with it hurtling into the ground, sometimes with fatal results for the MechWarrior. It was a move by the foolhardy, the overconfident, or the desperate. How Sheila had kept the Shruiken's 75 tons steady in a hurricane wind Max would never know, and he suspected Sheila didn't either. The Mad Cat pilot had never known what hit them as one of the Shruiken's feet crashed through their canopy and pulped them in their seat.

"You're crazy, you know that?" Max shouted.

"Not so loud," Sheila radioed back. "My ears are still ringing. My nose is bleeding too." She did a quick turnaround, but there was still no one there. "I'll help you hobble if you can. Maybe the Clanners got lost. I almost did. I think I was going in circles." She crouched the Shruiken as best she could, and got an arm under the Hatchetman's. "Aren't we a pair of idiots?" Sheila said tiredly, and Max laughed.

His laughter was cut off as Twycross itself seemed to rise up beneath them.