AUTHOR'S NOTES: Been a little while, huh? I had some personal stuff going on, but that is hopefully now behind me, and we can keep moving forward (to coin a phrase).

This chapter develops pretty quickly and I skip over some things, but that's to keep from bogging down. It also requires the reader to press the "I Believe" button a bit, because there's no way in hell a 20-year old would be trusted with a battalion command (though it's happened, but it's more of a 19th Century thing). Still, that's hardly a new thing in Battletech...

Horatius

Planting, Jade Falcon Occupation Zone

17 September 3050

Sheila Arla-Vlata fell backwards into her chair, her eyes wide. Then she looked up at Marion Rhialla. "Are you fucking serious?"

Marion couldn't resist a smile. "Yep."

Sheila put up a hand, covering her eyes with the other. "Let me get this straight. A few weeks ago, I was lucky to have any command at all, let alone a company, and now you somehow managed to convince my dad to give me a battalion? Holy shit, Marion, I just turned twenty! I'm so green that I might as well be a damn leprechaun!"

"You're not green, Sheila," Marion said, leaning against the wall of the hotel room. "You know how to fight a company, and you did really great at Pascia Grove—"

"That was one battle!"

"—among others. Don't fucking interrupt me, Sheila." Marion met Sheila's eyes. "You think I would've gone along with the others if I didn't think you could fucking do this?"

Sheila opened her mouth, then closed it. After a few moments, she asked simply, "Why?"

"I told you why. You're young, you're good, you think on your feet, and you can command. And you've got something that very fucking few people have."

"Like what?"

"You're not afraid of the fucking Clans," Marion grinned. "I'm not either, but that's because I'm an old bitch who has had her life. If I die tomorrow, so what? I've been everywhere and seen everything I want to see. But you? You're different." She pushed off the wall, moved past Sheila, and stared out of the window of the third floor room. It faced north, and she could see the Duranter River, and the ridges that the Sentinels would be soon advancing over—without opposition, as the Jade Falcons were already off the subcontinent. "When I became a MechWarrior in the Capellan Hussars a long time ago, I thought I knew everything. Most cadets do. We come out of NAMA or the Nagelring or whatever thinking we're the next Napoleon.

"Then we get in our first battle, and we piss ourselves because we realize we can get really fucking dead doing this. After that, MechWarriors go in three paths. Most just hunker down and survive. They're solid, they'll win battles, but they'll never be great—they'll survive, maybe even to retirement, but you're never going to read about them in the history books. Some lose their shit and pussy out, and can never get in a cockpit again. They desert, they run away—anything but get back in the field. And then there's the few who know that they're not immortal, but they're going to do more than just survive, and they're damn sure not going to run away. They just keep getting better. They excel, and they thrive. That's the Jaime Wolfs, Morgan Kells, and Natasha Kerenskys of the galaxy. You know why they win?" Sheila shook her head. "Because they look at the enemy, realize that the other side is flesh and blood too—that they're just as scared shitless as everyone else—and know they can win. And win regularly. Oh, they're afraid—you're not going to tell me even the fucking Black Widow hasn't pissed herself in fear once or twice. At least I don't think Kerensky is that fucking stupid never to be afraid. But they don't let that fear dominate them. Instead, they use it to dominate others. They make the other side piss and shit themselves in fear."

Sheila chuckled. "Don't die for your country, make the other poor bastard die for his."

Marion nodded, turning away from the window, away from her memories. "That's what Patton would say, yeah."

"I don't know that I'm that person, Marion."

"Well, we think you are. Enough to give you a chance, anyway."

Sheila got up from the chair, rather shakily. "I'm not ready, Marion."

"None of us are, Sheila," Marion said quietly. "You're never really ready for your first battle, or your first command. I walked mine into an ambush the first time out." She laughed. "Yeah, Marion Fucking Tigerstripe Rhialla, commander of the Tigerstripe Legionnaires of mightly House Liao, walked right into a goddamn ambush set by some newbie Davion bastard in the 33rd Avalon Hussars. Al Dennison told me it was an ambush, too. I ignored him and got popped, like the stupid bitch I was."

Sheila hadn't known that; Marion didn't talk about her former career as a mercenary battalion commander. "What happened?"

"After I managed not to die in the first minute, I got my head on straight and we fought our way out. Gave the Davions a bloody fucking nose in the process too." Marion shrugged. "You can go through all the book learning, all the map problems, and all the live-fire exercises you like, but the only way you really learn is by fighting a battle and killing the enemy." She walked over to Sheila. She was shorter, but her force of personality was such that Marion tended to dominate any room she was in. "Besides, it's not like your dad is just giving you a battalion with no strings attached. You'll have me and Elfa there to back you up. Between us, we've got more experience than half the Inner Sphere. We'll keep you out of trouble and let you know if you're fucking it up."

"I can't believe you're going to take a demotion to lance commander," Sheila said.

"I want this to work, kid. I'm tired of these fucking snooty-ass Clanners acting like they're King Shit on Turd Mountain. I want them to bleed. I want them to fucking fear."

"Still can't believe my folks agreed to this." Calla had talked to Arla, apparently, and they had agreed that, if Sheila wanted the command, she would have it. To avoid making it look even more like nepotism than it did, Marion had gotten the honor of telling Sheila. Marion had also done some asking around—the rumor mill was the fastest communication known to man, and already it was circulating that the Sentinels were trying something new, with Sheila in command. Calla had made it clear that the project would be dropped if there was too much hue and cry about it. So far, there was less concern in the regiment about Sheila commanding it as there was the idea of a new unit trained specifically to fight the Clans. That, Marion knew, would be the tough part.

Sheila took up Marion's position at the window. "Assuming I'm stupid enough to accept this, I have to create a unit that can not only beat the Clans, but do it consistently."

"Yep."

"How in the hell do I do that? You act like I've got some sort of superpower!" Sheila exclaimed.

Marion went over and flicked Sheila in the forehead. "You do," she said over Sheila's curse of surprise. "It's called your fucking brain. Everyone's got one, but not everyone actually uses it." Marion stepped back. "You're being given two companies of 'Mechs, with a company of tanks to follow. Probably some infantry too, and maybe some aerofighters—got to talk to Liz Dowlings about that. Elfa and I will help, but how you organize it is up to you. How you fight it is up to you."

"Great." Sheila rubbed her forehead. "Ow. Do I get to choose my own MechWarriors and tankers?"

"Yeah. We'll put the call out straight away. Volunteer only. We'll vet whoever signs up, so the other battalions aren't dumping their problem children on you. You get final say. There's also some folks from outside the regiment that you might want." Something crossed Marion's face, something Sheila wasn't sure of. "Anyway, we figure 24 MechWarriors and 12 tank crews."

"No good," Sheila said, which surprised even her. "I want a company that can fight a Clan company head on. Fighting 12 to 15 is bad odds. I want 16 in a company—that means 32 MechWarriors and 16 tank crews."

Marion considered that. The Sentinels tended to use oversize companies anyway, simply because it was always good to have a reserve. "I bet we can arrange that." She grinned at Sheila. "Now you're using your noggin, girl."

Sheila rolled her eyes. "I suppose." She gave Marion a dirty look. "Quit smirking, Lance Commander."

Marion snapped to attention and gave her an ironic salute. "Yes, ma'am. Just that, all of a sudden, you're acting like a fucking CO."

"Lucky me." Sheila looked out of the window again. She remembered playing with her toy 'Mechs; one didn't grow up the daughter of a MechWarrior without being interested in what Daddy did for a living. Like most children who grew up in war, she built forts and deployed her forces to take on her friends' toys. Of course, she had dolls too, but those dolls were always great military commanders; when she did dress up, it was in uniforms. She would pretend that the dolls were her, getting a medal from Prince Davion or Archon Steiner. She was wearing her fatigues today, but her Commonwealth Star was hanging next to the dress uniform in the closet; she hadn't gotten it from Hanse Davion or Katrina Steiner, but Morgan Hasek-Davion was a pretty decent stand-in. Her favorite books had been about Jennifer Steiner or Ian Davion. She had stared at the ceiling after going to bed many times, after she had decided to become a MechWarrior, and wonder what it would be like to command a company. Well, now she knew, and now she would be taking the next step forward, battalion command, wearing the single diamond that only three people in the Sentinels got to wear.

Sheila's battalion. It had a nice ring to it. She realized she wanted the command, even if it also scared the hell out of her.

"Marion," she finally said, "are you blowing sunshine up my ass?"

The older woman snorted. "Do you really think I ever blow sunshine up anyone's ass, Sheila? I don't do that to Mira, or your father, and certainly not you. If I didn't think you could do this, I wouldn't be standing in this room. If you don't want command, don't fucking take it. But if you think I'd ever toady up to your skinny ass, then you need to remember that I told Max Liao to shove it up his shit chute once, and I don't have any fears of telling you the same." She pointed at Sheila. "I want you to take command because I want to win."

Sheila took in Marion, the tanned skin with too many lines from staring into too many sunsets, the flinty eyes that could examine a field and know how to assault or defend it in a second, the lean body that was the product of over thirty years of fighting. She wondered if she would ever be that old, and reasoned that she probably wouldn't. "Okay," Sheila finally said, with a deep breath, knowing her life was about to change forever. "If they'll take me, I accept."

"Good." Sheila was surprised to see tears in Marion's eyes. "Good."

Camp Calzaghe

Planting, Jade Falcon Occupation Zone

18 September 3050

Max Canis-Vlata walked into the room that Sheila had turned into an ersatz office. Camp Calzaghe was an old LCAF training camp; up in the mountains northeast of Horatius, it was a perfect spot to train a new battalion. The Jade Falcons were not running aerial reconnaissance missions this far south, and both Sheila and Calla hoped they wouldn't notice that the Sentinels were suddenly understrength at Fairfields—or if they did, figured they had inflicted more damage to the regiment at Pascia Grove than the Falcons originally thought. The camp had been used by a youth group before the Clan invasion, so it was clean and cozy. "Hey, babe," he called out from the doorway.

"Mm," Sheila answered distractedly. She was sitting at a table piled high with papers, maps and technical readouts. The paperless office was on its tenth century of being predicted. Max shut the door behind him. "Still working on operations orders?"

"Mm."

Max was getting used to Sheila being rather monosyllabic as of late. There was no formal taking command ceremony—not yet, if ever, because as Calla said, he wanted the Clans to be just as surprised as he had been. The new battalion didn't even have a name yet; all they had agreed on was that it would not be simply given Ceta Battalion's old name. In fact, Calla was considering giving that moniker to Richard Cannon's tank unit, which would make the tankers feel more integrated into the Sentinels as a whole, rather than be called just the "Tank Battalion."

In the two days since Sheila had agreed to take on the task of putting together the new unit, she had immediately asked Max to join, which he had just as quickly accepted. He already knew he had a knack for staff work, and already they had realized that Max's strengths—paperwork, logistics, and general math—covered Sheila's weaknesses. Of course, their first task was just picking through the people who had volunteered. Far more than 36 MechWarriors had volunteered—the tank crews would come later—and sure enough, not a few of them were "volunteered" by units trying to unload their discipline cases on Sheila. A volcanic eruption of anger from Calla had put a stop to that. The last two days had been long ones of reviewing those people that Sheila did want in her unit. Much like combat leadership, it was something that no class at the Nagelring or NAMA had prepared either for. Max glanced at the shoulder boards. They were red, the color of blood and MechWarriors, and on each were pinned the single diamond of a Lieutenant Commander, the Sentinel rank for battalion commanders. The diamonds were still so new that they glittered in the light, which Max knew his mother's didn't any longer, except for the ones she wore to formal occasions. As Marion had said, however, one didn't salute the diamond; you saluted who was wearing it.

"Still going through personnel records too?"

"Mm."

"Want me to screw you in the butt?"

Sheila turned at looked at him, aghast. "What?"

"Figured that would get you to say more than 'mm.'" Max kissed her cheek and let her go, leaning on the table. "How goes it?"

Sheila dropped her pen on the table, leaned back in her chair, and rubbed her eyes. "You might as well fuck me, because I feel like everyone else sure is. I'm exhausted," she groaned. "There's so much to remember and do."

"You've done op orders before."

"Yeah, but never for a battalion."

"Can't be that much harder." He picked up the handwritten order. It would get typed up later and cleaned up, making the transition from plain English to military bureaucratese. "It doesn't help that we don't have a solid roster yet."

"Actually…" Sheila moved a copy of Technical Readout 3026 out of the way and handed Max a printed copy. "Still tentative, and I want you to look it over, but after much screaming, yelling and gnashing of teeth, it's done. Assuming you agree, and Marion agrees, and Elfa agrees, and Dad agrees, the No-Name Battalion is ready to go."

"We have got to get a name before No-Name sticks," Max said. He scanned the sheet.

_Battalion

Alpha Company

Command Lance

Lieutenant Commander Sheila Arla-Vlata, Shruiken

MechWarrior Kaatha, Griffin

MechWarrior Marcus Drax, Phoenix Hawk

MechWarrior Felisanna, Panther

Recon Lance

Lance Commander Tessya Blackthorn, Wasp

MechWarrior Philip Scott, Aquarius

MechWarrior Tinyak Fernplanter, Panther

MechWarrior Frederick Matria, Chameleon

Heavy Lance

Lance Commander Maximillian Canis-Vlata, Battlemaster

MechWarrior Charles Badaxe, Atlas

MechWarrior Maria Thyatis, Wolverine

MechWarrior Brefudd Dari, Axeman

Beta Company

Command Lance

Major Elfa Brownoak, Phoenix Hawk

MechWarrior Mary Scott, Wasp

MechWarrior Larry Stohr, Stinger

MechWarrior Michael Vragel, Stinger

Fire Lance

Lance Commander Tooriu Kku, Awesome

MechWarrior John Lawson, Archer

MechWarrior Arthur McKenna, Archer

MechWarrior Eric Jerome, Archer

Heavy Lance

Lance Commander Terry Nutter, Victor

MechWarrior Maysa Bari, Rifleman

MechWarrior Togan Nordkoping, Warhammer

MechWarrior Stefan Jones, Thunderbolt

Assault Lance

Lance Commander Marion Rhialla, Perennium

MechWarrior Alfred Dennison, Perennium

MechWarrior Ted van Kull, Victor

MechWarrior Troms Fiordur, Warhammer

"Still nothing from Cannon on the tanks?" Max asked.

"We're still trying to figure out what we need as far as types and how we'll integrate them into the unit." She tapped the technical readout. "We're awfully heavy. I'd like some lighter stuff, but God, our lights are so vulnerable to the Clans as it is." She let out a long breath. "And I don't know the first damn thing about tanks. I kind of didn't pay attention to that at the Nagelring. Probably a good thing we're not using them against Fort Pilum anyway."

"We're not?"

"No, Dad can only spare us one Union-class DropShip. Everything else is allocated. No room for the tanks anyway. Mom's going to give us a platoon of light infantry, so that's something when we take the fort." She picked up the operations order. "We're not dropping into the fort itself. I decided that was a really bad idea."

"Yeah, because it was." Sheila had originally thought it was a wonderful idea, in that it would catch the Clans by surprise. Max had pointed out that it certainly would, because it was suicidal. Either Sheila had come around to his way of thinking, or Marion or Elfa had flatly turned her down. It was a learning curve, but Sheila was already proving that she wasn't wedding herself to a set plan. That, Max knew, was a good sign. "We'll have to fight our way in, but something tells me the Clans won't try to use their 'Mechs inside the fort." Fort Pilum was a coastal defense fort, much smaller than the Jestin Ridge facility had been on Persistence. "Are we going to have air support?"

"Yeah. Dowlings promised that."

Max looked over the roster again. "I notice most of the people are from Ceta. I see you've kept your Command Lance intact."

"No reason to mess with success. Besides, Kaatha and Drax already said I'd get lost without them…and they're probably right," Sheila admitted.

"And you've added Felisanna—Kaatha's daughter."

"She just got onplanet day before yesterday. She's qualified," Sheila told him. "She was way the hell on Mayetta when the war started, so it's taken her this long to get back. Thank God we had an extra Panther as a remount."

"You do know that Kaatha and Felisanna can't stand each other."

"I know. Kaatha asked me to bring her on. Felisanna said she was okay with it." Sheila shrugged. "Maybe they want to patch things up."

"Seems like a weird place for family counseling, but okay." He read down the list. "Tessya Blackthorn? Nice, she's a great light lance commander…and Phil Scott? I thought he was a lawyer."

"He is. Passed the bar before we left Sudeten, but he says he can't sue the Clans out of the Inner Sphere. Besides, we can always use a legal eagle."

Max's eyes narrowed. "What the hell is an Aquarius?"

"Some kind of prototype underwater fighting 'Mech that TharHes tried to come up with. Never went anywhere, but it was designed by the same guy who designed my Shruiken, so TharHes dumped it on the Sentinels. Phil got his Dervish all shot to hell on Persistence, so he volunteered to try it out." Max looked far from convinced. "It's not really just designed for underwater fighting—it's a medium scout. A shitload of medium lasers, no ammo, and one of those new Beagle Probes. I figured since the Clans seem to do all right with them, we could give it a try." She snickered. "Look at Elfa's command lance."

"It's really light, so I'm guessing it's going to act like a recon lance—" Then Max saw what Sheila was referring to. "Mary Scott? I thought the only thing you two agreed on was that one of you was going to frag the other!"

"Me too, but she came over here personally yesterday to tell me she wanted to join up. She said she was tired of the same-old same-old and wanted to fight with someone who knew how." Sheila rolled her eyes. "Adrenaline junkie, piloting a damn Wasp. She's got an IQ of a gnat, I swear. But anyhow, she shook hands and said she wanted to let bygones be bygones."

"Keeping your enemies close, I guess." Max pointed to the sheet. "Who's Frederick Matria and why are we allowing him in with a damn Chameleon?"

"Some crazy bastard from the old Planting Militia. He stole a Chameleon when the Jade Falcons showed up, and took to the mountains with the resistance. Matria knows the ground."

"He's going to be in the frigging ground if he thinks he can take a training 'Mech up against the Clans," Max said.

"He already has," Sheila said. "If you can believe it, he managed to take out an Uller with it. He's modded that thing. No machine guns. The techs were drooling all over it. I figure that since he's stayed loose for four months in a 'Mech, he must have something on the ball."

"Guess I can't argue with that, but he's definitely not all here." Max went back to the list, and laughed. "I see you couldn't resist bringing in Tooriu." He said it without a trace of jealousy; in fact, Max thought, having the jovial MechWarrior there would be a bonus.

"He was one of the first to volunteer. I like having that crazy bastard around. Besides, that way he's not worried about Elfa as much. I guess those two are pretty sweet on each other too." Sheila noted she also felt no jealousy—in fact, she was happy for her former lover, even if Elfa was old enough to be Tooriu's mother. So what? she admonished herself. Wartime romances were always strange. She felt the engagement ring around her neck. As I know only too well.

"Sheila?" Max was still reading the roster. "Maysa Bari? Really?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Because she's sixteen? Barely? Sheila, she's not even old enough to be drafted!"

"I know, but she insisted…and she is a really good tech. And she showed she can pilot that Rifleman that we took off those Belt Pirates. She's been running 'Mechs around the 'Mech bay on trials since she was tall enough to see over the instrument panel, Max."

"What are you not telling me?" Max asked, very seriously.

Sheila sighed. "Marion's worried that Maysa's going to find a way to get into the Sentinels anyway—and as short as we might get with MechWarriors after this campaign, she might pull it off. Hell, she will pull it off, sooner or later. Marion figured that, by putting Maysa with us, she'll learn how to do this surrounded by people Marion knows and trusts. Terry Nutter agreed to put Maysa under his wing, and he's pretty good, as you know."

"And Marion's praying that Maysa craps herself in her first battle and quits," Max said.

"Well, she used the words 'shit herself,' but yes."

Max shook his head. "I don't like it. Maysa would shoo a fly out the door before she'd kill it. I've seen her start crying if she miscalibrates a laser. I don't know if she can handle it."

"Neither do I, but she's pretty determined. Let's give her a chance."

"All right." Max was far from convinced, but it was true that Maysa probably stood a better chance of survival in the new unit. He just hoped Maysa wouldn't freeze up, or worse, panic. Then again, Max considered, I've seen Maysa hang upside down twenty feet above a bay floor to weld on a patch job with no safety harness. She probably won't panic, at least.

"Aren't you going to look over your lance?" Sheila asked.

"Don't need to. I know these people." Max ran his finger down his lance. "Brefudd is solid, though he's been bitching about how that new Axeman keeps jamming the AC/20. Maria Thyatis is new, but she's good with that Wolverine of hers. And Charles Badaxe…" Max shrugged. "He's a rich kid playing MechWarrior—his dad runs Kinosh Industries—but he didn't lose his head at Pascia Grove, and that Atlas of his is brand new." Max rubbed his chin. "I don't mind taking him, I guess."

"Maybe he's patriotic?" Sheila mused. "Then again, he was giving Elfa some lip yesterday until she kicked his ass for him, so maybe he's got authority issues. Hates his dad, wants to prove himself, that sort of thing."

Max laughed. "He doesn't like his dad, no, but it's not an authority thing. He joined up for the oldest reason of all, Sheila."

"He can't be broke. His dad is one of the richest guys in the FedCom."

"Okay, second oldest." He showed her the list. "Maria Thyatis. He's nuts over her."

"Well, she's pretty, no question there." Sheila had met Thyatis the day before, when she had dropped off her personnel file. Sheila knew she was attractive, but compared to Thyatis, she felt tawdry; the other woman was definitely beautiful enough to drive men to distraction, but she wasn't sure that Thyatis was attractive enough to attract a man away from a life of luxury into a war zone. What a weird war, Sheila thought.

"Well," Max said at length, "I guess that will do. We just need a name now."

"I'll figure something out." Sheila got to her feet and glanced at the clock. "It's late. I think I'll hit the sack after I grab a shower." She gave Max a smoldering smile. "Want to wash your commander's back?"

Max came to attention and saluted. "Ma'am, it will be my pleasure." He leaned forward and kissed her. "You know, higher rank just turns me on."

"Oh, really?" Sheila bumped her forehead against his. "Then again, I think a stiff wind turns you on."

"You said stiff." He obediently followed her out of the office, across the courtyard, to the camp commander's quarters, which had been allocated to Sheila—and Max. Since their engagement was now public, neither saw any reason to stay apart when they were off duty. The sun was long since down, and there were lights on in the barracks, and beneath the sea of camouflage netting where the battalion's 'Mechs were gathered, as techs made repairs and modifications. A few of the Sentinel Light Infantry stood around the camp as guards. Sheila half-expected to be ambushed by someone, demanding a signature or to hand her more paperwork, but other than a guard snapping to attention as she and Max walked past, there was no one in the courtyard. She was fervently glad of that.

Once inside, Max and Sheila efficiently and quickly stripped each other, teasing as they walked naked to the shower. Standing under the hot water—Max had noted that Sheila liked her showers one degree below magma—he washed her hair, holding her against him. With her rear end up against his crotch, it didn't take him long to get aroused.

Then Max noticed that Sheila was not responding to the light kisses to her shoulder, and he realized she had fallen sound asleep, held up only by his arms. "Sheila," he murmured in her ear. There was no response. "Sheila."

"Mm…" she finally mumbled.

"Babe, did you want to make love?"

"Mm…yeah…" Max shut off the water, which woke Sheila up a little. "Why did you do that?"

"Because you're so tired, you can barely stand." He led her out of the shower, and they toweled off. Even then, Sheila's eyes were drooping, so Max gently picked her up—or tried to; he was not exactly strong—and managed to carry her to the bed. She was asleep the moment he laid her down. Max sighed, staring down at her naked body, her black hair fanned over the pillows, a faint smile on her lips. "Ah well," he said, lay down next to her, pulled the covers over them both, and shut off the light.

Camp Calzaghe

Planting, Jade Falcon Occupation Zone

26 September 3050

"Attention in the courtyard! Commanding officer present!"

Elfa's voice cracked across the courtyard like a pistol shot. Instantly all 36 MechWarriors and 24 infantry snapped to attention and held it. Max stood at attention at the head of his lance like the rest. He could not resist a smile of pride as Sheila strode down the narrow aisle between the two halves of the battalion. She did not wear the gray fatigues that the others did, but a single-piece formal uniform. It was spotlessly white, set off by powder blue that began at her throat, spread out to an hourglass shape below her breasts to her waist, where it tapered to stripes on either side of her pants, down to the bloused MechWarrior's boots, polished to a high sheen. A cape of the same light blue color fluttered behind her, bound at her throat with a simple clasp hidden behind her Commonwealth Star. Crimson rank boards were sewed onto the mandarin-style collar and repeated on her shoulders over the cape. The only other decoration was a nametape reading ARLA-VLATA above her left breast, with a MechWarrior pin above that.

She turned on one heel between two flags—one of the Sentinels, the other of the Federated Commonwealth. Elfa stepped forward from the ranks and stomped to attention Davion-style, though her sharp, palm-down salute was Steiner. "Commander Arla-Vlata!" Elfa barked. "All personnel present and accounted for, ma'am!" Elfa couldn't help but grin.

"Thank you, Major," Sheila said crisply, returning the salute. Elfa stepped back to the ranks, and Sheila raised her voice. "At ease!" The new battalion made that move with precision as well, standing feet slightly apart with their hands clasped behind their backs. Sheila was reminded of a line from an old flatscreen movie she had watched with her father once: They look mighty pretty, but can they fight? She swallowed involuntarily. Well…we're about to find out.

Sheila took out a folded piece of paper from a pants pocket and read it solemnly. It was the order Calla had given to her to form and take command of a new combined arms battalion, promoting Sheila to Lieutenant Commander; she got a formal command ceremony after all. When she finished, she replaced the paper in her pocket, then faced her command again. Her lips were suddenly dry and she felt her hands began to shake. Sheila willed them to stop, wet her lips, and began.

"I think this is the point where I'm supposed to give a rousing speech," Sheila said. "I don't know if I can do that. I've never been much for speeches…and frankly all of you have heard those speeches before, and hearing another one from me isn't going to suddenly inspire you to great feats of arms. You know why you're here and what we're doing.

"You also know our enemy," Sheila continued. "While it's tempting to try and be like Patton and talk about how we're going to grease the feet of our 'Mechs with their living guts and so on and so forth, you wouldn't be impressed with that. That's for holovids and war bond speeches. You know the Clanners are tough and motivated bastards. I don't have to tell you that either."

Sheila paused to gather her thoughts. She had not practiced this speech, only knew what she wanted to say, and hoped she could articulate it. "So let me tell you something maybe you don't know. We're all volunteers, of course. I don't know all of you—not yet—but I know that, for every person here, there's a different reason why you joined this battalion. Maybe you fight for pride. Maybe you hate the Clans and want revenge. Maybe you wanted the extra hazard pay." There was a brief bit of laughter at that. "Maybe you joined up because you're a friend of mine and you were raised in the Sentinels, like me. Or maybe you just joined because this looked like fun. It doesn't matter, really…all that matters is that you fight.

"Because that's what this battalion is all about—fighting. Not just like the other battalions, but something new and different. While not all of us here have seen combat—" Sheila's eyes fell on Maysa Bari, who was smiling, looking entirely like the teenager she was "—we all understand that we're being asked to do. Our job is to fight the Clans. Not like our parents and grandparents fought Kurita or Marik or Liao, but an entirely new enemy. We're an entirely new battalion to fight that new enemy. We have to think in new ways. Dad formed this unit on the advice of the other battalion commanders, and Majors Rhialla and Brownoak, because he recognizes as that we've got to fight the Clans differently than any enemy before.

"There's merc units who are busting contract rather than face the Clans, and there's units that we've heard surrender at the first sight of an OmniMech or a Toad. That's not us, of course. Our job is to take the fight to the Clans. We exist to attack them, not the other way around—to hit the Clans first, fast and hard. This is our space. We may have fought over it like idiots in the Succession Wars, but that's our business, not the Clans! None of them earned the right to come here, take away our space, and tell us how we're going to live our lives."

Sheila paused again, to remember how she wanted to end her speech. "In the Sentinels' order of battle, this unit is listed not as a line battalion like Alpha or Beta, but as a Special Missions Combined Arms Team—SMCAT." She pronounced it symcat. "Special Missions, because our job will be to fight unorthodox battles in unorthodox fashion. We're going to lie, cheat and steal. Combined Arms, because this unit will not just be MechWarriors, but infantry, tankers, pilots, and techs. And Team because that is what we have to be." She nodded to them. "You know that your life depends on the man or woman next to you. We're all Sentinels here. We're not some AFFC unit. I'm not interested in the name of your father, or your mother's lineage. What I am interested in, is how well you fight and how well you think, because you're doing both in this outfit."

Sheila stopped for a moment, letting that sink in. She had said what she wanted to say, but now came the tough part. "Our first mission will be in 48 hours." That brought some murmuring, and the MechWarriors looked at each other more intently now. Some grinned. Some looked somber. Some looked terrified. "That's not much time, I know, but I'm afraid the war won't wait for us any longer. We're going after Fort Pilum. That's not for public knowledge, but you should know where we're going, because we have to figure out how we're going to crack that nut. We take Pilum, and we pave the way for the Sentinels and the Eridani to cross Blackett Strait and really take it to the Jade Falcons." She did smile now. "But first…I think we should start referring to this unit by its name, huh?"

Max and Marion Rhialla bent down and picked up a box at their feet, then opened them and began distributing the patches inside to the gathered troops. Sheila threw her own cape back from her shoulders to expose the same patch on her right shoulder; the Sentinels RCAT's crossed swords patch was on her left. Designing the patch had taken most of the previous day, since Max had suggested the name while both he and Sheila were in bed together.

The patch showed a diving snowy owl against a light blue background, the same hue as the blue on her formal uniform—itself hastily stitched together by a swearing Arla Bighorn-Vlata for her daughter. It was the only such uniform, though Sheila promised herself she would get one for everyone in the unit. The owl's wings were outstretched to the edges of the round patch; in its claws were clutched missiles. On a scroll beneath the patch were the Latin words Nemo Paribus, which roughly translated to No One Equals.

Atop the patch, on another scroll, was the battalion's name: Snowbirds SMCAT. Sheila had not liked the name at first, because it was her childhood nickname, which she didn't really care for—and now it seemed pretentious, almost as if she had named her unit after herself. Sheila had protested, but after Max described how the patch should look, with a snowy owl reminiscent of the New Kyoto snowbird, the name had grown on her. From the expressions on her troops, they rather liked the name, even if few remembered it had been Sheila's nickname.

Sheila felt like she needed to say one more thing, so she cleared her throat. "One last thing," she intoned. "I didn't get this command because I asked for it—it was kind of dropped into my lap. And the Snowbirds didn't get formed because Dad wanted to give his little girl her own command. Trust me, I don't know if I can command a battalion yet—I'm not going to lie. But I was told I've got what it takes. I hope that's true. I will lead you to the best of my ability. I have been given this command, and I will command.

"You're not here to make me look good, and I'm not here to make you look good. We'll make each other look good, because we will be good." Sheila felt her lip tremble. "Snowbirds, I've tried to eat alongside you, talk alongside you, and train alongside you. I will lead you into battle, and I hope you will follow me. Snowbirds…will you fight alongside me?"

Sheila would never know who first shouted "Yes!" but it was soon drowned out by cheers and cries of assent, as her troops punched their fists into the air and raised the patches. They began chanting "Snowbirds! Snowbirds! SNOWBIRDS!" and Sheila did not try to stop the tears from drifting down her cheeks.

Marion Rhialla caught her eye. The older woman was not cheering, but she smiled and nodded, then mouthed two words: remember this.

Sheila had her battalion.