AUTHOR'S NOTES: Setting up for the big finale of this story arc. More notes below.

Sentinel Headquarters Planting

Lexington Green, Planting, Jade Falcon Occupation Zone

15 November 3050

"And that's pretty much the situation, people," Calla Bighorn-Vlata said, motioning to the holomap. He and most of the command staff of the AFFC units onplanet were gathered in a wine cellar beneath a well-built timbered restaurant in Lexington Green.

Sheila sat back in her chair and surveyed the map for about the fifteenth time, she thought. She knew the situation the AFFC forces on Planting faced; a lot of the intelligence that had been gathered for that map had been done by her Snowbirds. She was on her one-month anniversary of commanding the battalion.

The situation was not grim, but it was not ideal, either. The Jade Falcons had retreated its two Clusters back into the Tri-Cities of Dantron, Sontor, and Belex—what was left of the Choyer Garrison Cluster; the 133rd Falcon Fusiliers, which appeared to have made good its losses at Horatius; and the Peregrine Galaxy Keshik, which the Sentinels believed was Khan Cavell Malthus' personal command unit. The Jade Falcons were surrounded on three sides with their backs to Blackett Strait, but that did not mean they were going to surrender anytime soon.

Sheila knew that area well now, having scouted it four times. The Tri-Cities spanned both banks of the Hyannis River. It was the original landing for Planting's settlers six centuries previously, and it was a starkly efficient city, with a lot of narrow streets, drab concrete apartment complexes, and densely wooded parklands for the workers to enjoy, centered around a magnificent cathedral. The city to the north was screened by the Hillbork Forest, which was a beautiful forest preserve that would be a deathtrap to 'Mechs and tanks. West and east of the city were rolling hills, without much cover—and now that Planting's Terralike winter had arrived with a vengeance, those hills were choked with snowdrifts that could bury a 'Mech. Sheila knew that too, since she'd slipped and fallen into one. Her Shruiken had disappeared into a drift and had to be pulled out by two other 'Mechs.

"Anything to add?" Calla said, bringing Sheila's attention back to the briefing.

Sheila raised her hand. "Commander," she said, rising to her feet, "when we were there yesterday, we saw a lot of activity in the western suburbs of Dantron. The Jade Falcons look to have evacuated all the civilians and demolished all but the most sturdy houses. They're making sure there's no one in the way, and they're clearing fields of fire."

"Shit." This from Caitlin Houndlikov, the commander of Beta Battalion. "We come in over those western hills, they're going to wait until we get stuck in the snowdrifts, then chop us up with artillery." She glanced from the map to Calla. "I don't suppose we're getting a warm front anytime soon."

"We actually are," Calla said. "About a week's worth of warm weather starting in about 24 hours. Then it clamps down again." No one mentioned what that meant: the assault would need to happen during that week.

"Still going to be a damn tough nut to crack," Caitlin said. She looked over at Hauptmann General Alden Gray, the new commanding officer of the 20th Arcturan Guards—Brian Kincaide having been relieved of command on the orders of Marshal Hasek-Davion. Technically, Gray outranked Calla, but he had deferred to the Sentinels commander on the basis that Calla had been on Planting longer; Gray had only arrived a week before. "How's the eastern sector looking, General Gray?"

"No better, Commander Houndlikov." Gray had quickly caught on to the tendency of the Sentinels to drop the Lieutenant from their battalion commander ranks. "The snow's just as deep and the ground is just as open."

Another hand went up, and Sheila saw it was Major Gnea Carabinera, the commander of Beta's 3rd Company, and the Sentinels' urban warfare specialist. This was her kind of fight. "We're not just going to have to worry about getting to the Tri-Cities. We'll have to fight our way in. Either the Jade Falcons are going to fight to the death, or they're going to retreat by steps back to their DropShips." She pointed to the map: the sprawling Tri-City DropPort was on the southern edge of the city, wedged between it, the port, and the ocean. "That's where their Toads will really eat us up. You can bet that Malthus' Keshik thing is there to plug any gaps if we break through." She nodded to Sheila. "And Sheila said she spotted second-line foot infantry wearing Jade Falcon uniforms too. They might be foot infantry, but give them some SRMs and Infernos, and we're really in for it."

Another hand, and Calla pointed to Richard Cannon, the commander of the Sentinels' tanks, the newly christened Ceta Battalion. "What about just hitting the place with airstrikes? Take out their strongpoints and come in behind a rolling artillery barrage?"

Gray turned to look at him. "Commander, that's a lot of civilian casualties."

Cannon paused, but there was a derisive snort from Marion Rhialla, sitting behind Sheila. "Life's a bitch, war is hell, and peacetime's even worse, General. We fight our way into the city, and we're going to kill a fuckload more of them. The sooner we get it over with, the less people die." There were some nods around the room. "Sir," Rhialla added as an afterthought.

"The AFFC tries to avoid civilian casualties, Lance Commander," Gray said.

"Fine, you can court-martial me," Rhialla snapped. "I'll do hard time if it means less of our people get killed."

Gray opened his mouth to reply, probably with something unprintable, Sheila thought, but Calla quickly called on Elizabeth Dowlings, the Sentinels AeroWing commander. Sheila noticed something: it was mere coincidence, but it did seem like the Sentinels tended to end up with women in positions of command more than men. "There's somethin' you're forgettin'," Dowlings said her thick Scottish brogue. "It'll be up to me an' the 20th Arcturan's air wing to do this flattenin'…and we may no be able to do it. The Jade Falcons' aerofighters are damned good, as we've found out. They're operatin' right over their base; we're operatin' a distance from ours, which means fuel. And we may no be too accurate with our bombs, because we're gonna be dodging Clan lead aimed at me arse." There was laughter as Dowlings sat. "And that's assumin' the weather does what the guessers say it will," she added.

Next was Todd Canis, who stood up from where he had been sitting with his arm around his wife Mira. He walked up to the holomap. "The way I see it, our big advantage is numbers. We can afford to hit them from all three sides. I say we throw a battalion at the Hillbork Forest—the 50th Heavy, most likely—and see if the Jade Falcons take the bait. Once they have, then we send in the whole Sentinels from the west and the 20th Arcturan from the east. We do two battalions forward and the third behind to exploit any breakthroughs."

"I'm for it," said Simon Kroger, the commander of the Eridani Light Horse's 50th Heavy Cavalry Battalion. "But those battalions are going to take heavy casualties in that open ground, snowdrifts or not."

"I know, Colonel. We're just going to have to tough it out. We run as fast as we can to get into the suburbs, then bring up the third battalion, pass them through, and either overrun the Clanners or pick off as many as we can if they fall back to the DropPort. And yeah, we do as much artillery prep as we can-not in the city, because that's just going to create rubble." Todd regarded all of them. "Ever fight in a ruined city? Don't."

Stalingrad, Sheila thought, remembering her father's history lessons. She doubted the Jade Falcons were that fanatic, but they could make life very miserable for any attackers all the same.

Todd went to go sit back down, when the door opened, admitting a blast of frigid air and a few snowflakes. Sheila shivered and turned, then saw Max come in, swathed in a parka. Next to him was a woman Sheila's height, her red hair falling over her shoulders from underneath a black wool-knit cap; her jacket was black as well. Sheila was a bit surprised: most women were not six feet tall. "Sorry to interrupt," Max said, "but this is Major Dmja Sneuth of the Wolf's Dragoons' Seventh Kommando."

As Sneuth pulled off the watch cap and came to attention, the room erupted in loud murmurs. Of all the units in the Inner Sphere that would stand a chance against the Clans, the legendary and elite Wolf's Dragoons were it. There were smiles among the murmurs: if the Dragoons had suddenly decided to commit their five regiments to the fight, then the Federated Commonwealth's offensive would become more than just spoiling attacks and limited campaigns. Even if it was only the Seventh Kommando on Planting, they could certainly use the crack special forces unit of the Dragoons. Sheila was in awe: the tall redhead could probably kill half the people in the room before the other half could even react.

Calla put out a hand. "Good to see you, Major. We can certainly use the Seventh."

Sneuth's expression looked a bit pained. "Sorry to disappoint you, Commander. I come alone."

"Wonderful," Rhialla groaned. "A JAFO."

"A what?" Sneuth asked.

"Just Another Fucking Observer—"

"Marion, enough," Calla warned.

"Hold on, Calla." Marion stood, even as Sheila tugged at her sleeve to sit down; technically, Marion was under her command. "Major, you've got five regiments of supposedly the best unit in the Inner Sphere, and last I heard, you're sitting with your thumb in your ass on Outreach. What the fuck are you waiting for, Christmas?"

Sneuth did not rise to Rhialla's bait, even as Calla stared Marion back to her seat. "I'm sorry, Major—I mean, Lance Commander Rhialla. I'm just a messenger." She turned to Calla. "I have a message for you, sir, and you and your battalion commanders alone."

"We're all friends here, Major," Calla told her.

"Negative, sir. I have my orders from Colonel Wolf himself. If you choose to tell everyone else later, that is your affair, but those are my orders."

Calla sighed. "All right, fine. But I'd like Hauptmann General Gray to stay as well. If you don't mind, Major Kroger…"

"Sir," Sneuth said to Kroger, "I know that a similar message to mine is being delivered to General Winston."

"Then I'll hear about it later." Kroger nodded to Calla, then walked out without even another glance at Sneuth. There was a great deal of respect between Wolf's Dragoons and the Eridani Light Horse, but no love lost. Calla dismissed everyone else, until it was only himself, Gray, Mira, Houndlikov, Cannon, and Sheila. Sneuth stared curiously at Sheila, then noticed the diamonds on her shoulderboards. As the others filed out, letting more cold air into the room, Sneuth took her attention away from Sheila to the holomap. The door closed, and Calla folded his arms over his chest. "Let's have it, Major."

"Sir, before I deliver my message…" Sneuth pointed to the map. "These two units—is this the Choyer Garrison Cluster and the 133rd Falcon Fusiliers Cluster?"

"Yes," Calla replied. "Two regiments, essentially."

"And the Peregrine Galaxy Keshik?"

"Yes," Calla repeated. "Whatever the hell that is."

"Commander, you're right—Clan Clusters are the same as regiments. A Galaxy would be the equivalent to a division, like the old SLDF. A Keshik is akin to your Regimental Command Lance, but larger."

"So a divisional command unit?" Gray stroked his chin in thought.

"The whole thing is commanded by Cavell Malthus. He said he was a saKhan?" Calla asked Sneuth, clearly curious as to what else she knew.

"Yes, sir. A saKhan would be the second in command of the entire Jade Falcon Clan."

"That makes sense," Mira said. "Be nice to get him."

"Means we're up against the varsity," Cannon added. He looked at Sneuth, hard. "How the hell do you know this?"

Sneuth shifted on her feet uncomfortably. "Wolfnet. The Dragoons' intelligence service. Just because the Dragoons are sitting on our ass—" She looked at the door, where Rhialla had gone "—doesn't mean we're doing nothing."

"Want to share anything else?" Calla asked, obviously frustrated.

"No, sir. I just remember that from a report I read on Outreach before I left, sir."

Calla rubbed his thinning hair. "Whatever. What's this message from Wolf that you came all the way to deliver?"

"Sir." She reached into her jacket and pulled out an envelope with the Sentinels' crest worked into the paper. Calla opened it and pulled out a single page letter with the Dragoons' snarling wolf's-head crest atop the printed sentences. Sheila saw a holographic sheen to the bottom of the letter over Wolf's signature. Verigraphed! Sheila realized in amazement. A verigraphed signature treatment was expensive, but also impossible to forge. It was directly from Jaime Wolf himself. Calla read it, then looked up as he handed it to Gray. "Okay, Major, I'll bite. Why the hell does Colonel Wolf want me and my staff on Outreach by January 15, 3051? He is aware that we're kind of in a war at the moment."

Sneuth smiled. "Certainly, Commander. He said that you'd probably have Planting wrapped up by then."

"I appreciate his confidence in my ability."

Sneuth glanced back at the map. "Sir, from what I know about the Clans, I doubt they'll fight to the death. They'll leave the planet and try to retake it later."

"That would make the most sense." Calla snapped his fingers. "Wait a second! When we left Persistence, Malthus said he was offering us hegira, an honorable retreat. Could I do the same to him? It would save us the trouble of taking the city by force."

Gray cleared his throat. "Commander, I'm going to have to overrule that. We need to try and at least do some damage to this guy. If we can take him prisoner—"

"You won't, General," Sneuth said. "He'll kill himself first, like the Kuritans." She returned her attention back to Calla. "And if I may exceed my brief, sir, I think if he was offered hegira, he'd refuse. He wants to at least bloody your nose. If he accepts hegira this early, then Malthus will look like a coward in front of his Clan. He would rather die."

"Shit, they are like the damn Kuritans," Cannon put in.

Gray scanned the letter during the ensuing silence, then handed it to Mira. "He's inviting you and whoever you want to bring to Outreach, Calla." There was a trace of jealousy in Gray's voice; he wasn't being invited. "Why?"

"Not just us," Mira added. "It sounds like he's inviting everyone."

"Everyone?" Sheila asked.

"Everyone." Mira handed the letter to Houndlikov. "According to the letter, representatives from every House of the Inner Sphere will be there, along with the well-known merc units—the Eridani, probably the Kell Hounds, the 21st Centauri Lancers, the Gray Death, maybe…probably not Big Mac, though." Sheila knew that Mira referred to McCarron's Armored Cavalry, another unit that wasn't particularly fond of the Dragoons.

"Yeah, but why the Sentinels?" Calla laughed. "No offense, but we're not playing in Evelina Haskell or Ariana Winston's league, let alone Morgan Kell's. We've only been a regiment since 3040. I'm a nobody. I think Morgan Hasek-Davion gave me this job because they can hang me if I fuck it up."

Sneuth shook her head. "Commander, the Sentinels did the Dragoons a service during the Fourth Succession War."

"What, us? All we did was lend Zeta Battalion our DropShips and JumpShip," Calla said.

"Which was instrumental in saving the Dragoons from destruction on Crossing," Sneuth told them. "Colonel Wolf remembers that." She looked at Sheila. "The Colonel also mentioned that the Sentinels probably have the most experienced Clan fighters in the AFFC. I was to personally invite Major Arla-Vlata…though I see she's been promoted since I left Outreach. She's fought the Clans five times. I don't know of too many people who can make that distinction."

"Sheila just can't get enough of it," Houndlikov barked a laugh. "Out there every day in the snow checking the Clans' lines and…what did Marion tell me? You rustled Malthus' cattle?"

Sheila shrugged. "Well, there was this herd of cows, and it looked like some Clan Elementals were herding them towards the city, so we sort of stole them. Or liberated them, or whatever."

"The steak last night was really good," Mira chortled.

"Outreach would be a great place for a honeymoon," Cannon grinned. Sheila went red. Everyone in the Sentinels knew that she and Max were engaged now; she should have anticipated that nothing escaped the rumor mill.

Calla took back the letter and read it again. "Well," he sighed, "Major Sneuth, assuming that some enterprising Clanner doesn't blow my head off or I don't manage to screw the pooch in the next few weeks, tell Wolf I'll be there. And I would consider it a great favor if my daughter and her husband to be have the honeymoon suite at the Harlech Hilton reserved, along with the Outreach Cathedral for her wedding. If my little girl's tying the knot, she's doing it in style. Assuming Romano Liao's representatives aren't using it for some Thuggee ritual or something."

Sneuth smiled and nodded. "I imagine we could arrange it."

"Okay, now that we've got that over with," Calla said, "Sheila, let's find Major Sneuth somewhere warm to sleep. I know you'll be heading out on the next DropShip, Major, but at least let us show you some hospitality. It'll be a few days before we can get you offplanet."

"Thank you, Commander." She came to attention and turned to follow Sheila to the door, then hesitated. As they all stared at her, Sneuth seemed to come to some sort of decision, then turned back. "Commander Bighorn-Vlata, begging your pardon. I have another idea on how to get the Jade Falcons to retreat without a fight—well, without much of one—and do so in a way that they can't refuse."

"Let's have it," Gray said.

She looked around furtively, like Jaime Wolf might stride out of one of the shadows of the wine cellar, then went back to the commanders, Sheila scrambling to catch up. "I shouldn't be telling you this. The Colonel's going to have my head, but if it saves some lives, it's worth it." Her face was red with embarrassment now. "I've…I've heard this from some of the older Dragoons. The Clans have this thing about duelling."

"We know," Houndlikov said impatiently. "They like to fight one-on-one, like the Snakes."

"No, ma'am," Sneuth corrected her. "It's called a Trial of Possession. It's a trial by combat. Two warriors, or two groups of warriors, offer to duel each other. Whoever wins possesses the prize, hence the name. It allows the Clans to keep their honor and win victories without destroying each other or taking crippling casualties."

"That makes sense," Sheila spoke up. "They always ask us what we want to bid before a battle. The batchall, I think they call it." She remembered Fort Pilum. "I think that was what the guy I fought before Fort Pilum was offering, but we kind of opened fire before we let him finish."

Calla held up a hand. "Let me get this straight, Major. I meet Cavell Malthus under a flag of truce somewhere, and offer to do a Trial of Possession for the Tri-Cities. If he accepts…and he'd be out of his damn mind to…and we win, he just loads up and leaves?"

"As far as I know, yes," Sneuth confirmed. "If you win a fair Trial, he's honor-bound to."

"And I thought the Snakes were stupid," Houndlikov said. "You're supposed to leave honor at home. You can be nice after they've surrendered."

"What kind of fight?" Sheila asked. "'Mech fight?"

"As far as I know, anything you like, as long as both sides agree to it," Sneuth shrugged.

"Snowball fight, artillery duel at twenty paces, combat football game?" Mira asked.

"I think so."

Mira rolled her eyes. "This is insane. We're seriously contemplating this? You said it, Calla—Malthus would be a damn fool to accept this!"

"Maybe not," Sheila argued. "Just about every Clanner we've run into has been fairly arrogant—really sure of themselves."

"They have a right to be," Gray said. "They usually kick the hell out of us."

"Yes, sir, unless we get the drop on them, or just dogpile them into the pavement with sheer numbers," Sheila agreed. "But we come forward and offer to duel Malthus one-on-one, on his turf, he's going to think he can beat us. And if he refuses, he looks bad in front of his people."

"He might be right," Calla said cautiously. "Man for man, his MechWarriors are better than ours." Sheila almost said that wasn't true, remembering the fear she had seen in Star Captain Lefar's eyes on Twycross.

"Then again, they might get so overconfident that we end up beating them," Mira said. "And we need to make it pretty clear that we'll consider him a damn coward if he doesn't fight us. That should convince him."

"We just need someone to deliver the message," Gray said. "Assuming we're going to try this cockeyed plan."

"General, we've got nothing to lose." Calla laughed. "And I know just the person to deliver the message."

Cathedral of St. Jude

The Tri-Cities, Planting, Jade Falcon Occupation Zone

16 November 3050

Cavell Malthus stood in the nave of the cathedral. It was huge, done in the Gothic style, the top of the nave six stories above his head. Renaissance-like Christian paintings adorned the walls, and the altar was a slab of solid granite—brought from Terra itself, the priest had told him before Malthus had politely but firmly dismissed the man. Cavell was not a Christian—some Clanfolk did still carry the religions of their Inner Sphere heritage, but he was not one of them. At best, Cavell thought, he was an agnostic, only because the universe did seem to have knowable rules, which did hint at some sort of Creator. He was at the cathedral not to pray, but to admire the beautiful architecture and art. Like most, if not all of the Clans, Cavell was a fatalist. He would die violently, and more than likely, soon. All the same, he wanted to appreciate life while he was alive; there was more to living than war, food, coupling, and sleep. Cavell wanted to leave the Jade Falcons with more than simply a genetic legacy and a line or two in the Remembrance, the epic poem that the Clans kept as a record.

The sun slanted through the stained glass walls, to play over the wooden pews and Cavell himself. He knew that heralded a warming trend for the next week. The snow would melt, and the AFFC forces would attack. He had heard the murmurs among some of his warriors that the Jade Falcons should fight to the death, make the Spheroids pay for every block and street of the Tri-Cities, and die with honor. He disdained such an idea. That would achieve nothing: the AFFC would still take Planting. And if they did, what did it matter? Planting had been assigned to the Wolves; Cavell had taken it from them to embarrass the rival Clan. Now, after a suitable fighting retreat to his DropShips, he would leave Planting. The Jade Falcons would have bloodied two and a half regiments of AFFC troops, for acceptable losses among his people. Then, Cavell smiled, the AFFC would reinforce and fortify Planting, and when the Wolves did eventually take it, they would be the ones to pay in blood.

Cavell sighed. He was born Clan and he would die Clan, but sometimes his own society mystified him with its idiot traditions. ilKhan Leo Showers had gotten himself killed at Radstadt, dead at the hands of a suicidal Rasalhagian pilot. Showers was no loss, Cavell thought; he was a Smoke Jaguar and a fool. But now, just when the Clans had the initiative, now they had to recall their commanders back to Strana Mechty to choose a new ilKhan. It would take months of political wrangling, deal-making, and probably wasteful Trials. That was more Khan Elias Crichell's forte; Cavell had no patience for it. And in the meantime, while we sit in that damn chamber in Strana Mechty and make speeches, the Inner Sphere will fortify itself. They will reinforce the frontlines, perhaps launch more spoiling attacks like this one. When we return, probably with another, equally useless ilKhan, we will face an experienced, angry, and ready foe. Cavell snorted. It was stupid, giving their enemies a respite. Still, complaining would do no good, and probably result in Crichell removing him as saKhan in favor of his favorite, Vandervahn Chistu. Cavell and Chistu cordially hated each other. He knew Chistu had already called for Cavell to be fired after the debacle on Twycross, even if that had not been remotely Cavell's fault.

Cavell's increasingly dark thoughts were interrupted when the doors to the cathedral opened with a loud clang. He turned, his green-feathered cape moving with him. There were four people at the double doors, outlined by the sun. Two of them were Elementals in full armor. The third, the one between them, he could not make out. The fourth was Star Captain Senefa, who strode forward into the cathedral, her boots loud on the flagstone floor. She stopped a respectful distance from Cavell and came to attention. "My Khan, I am sorry to disturb you, but there is someone to see you from the AFFC forces. She came under a white flag, and will speak only to you. I had no idea what else to do, so I brought her here."

Cavell nodded. He had thought something like this might happen. Calla Bighorn-Vlata was too intelligent not to remember the hegira that Cavell had offered him on Persistence; now, Cavell suspected, Calla would do the same. Of course, Cavell could not accept it: with another Clan, it might be seen as forgivable, even honorable, but with Spheroids, it would be yet another embarrassment to tack onto Twycross. "Have they been searched for weapons?" Cavell didn't think Calla was so desperate to send a warrior on a suicide mission to murder him, but anything was possible.

"Aff, ovkhan. All she carried was a knife." Senefa patted her belt, where a knife rode on her right hip. The hilt was a snarling tiger's head, worked in worn wood; the leather was old and shiny. "I told her I would return it when she was escorted back."

"All right, Senefa. Bring her here." He chuckled. "This should be interesting, quiaff? Remain, please."

"Aff, ovkhan." Senefa turned and motioned the woman forward. One of the Elementals gave the woman a shove; she turned and spit a flood of obscenity at the Elemental that made Cavell blink and Senefa turn red. Then the latter stepped aside and Cavell faced his enemy, feet slightly apart and hands behind his back. He regarded the woman as she stopped and came to attention. He saw that she was an older woman, lean, her face lined and tanned, her hair graying; he guessed that she would be about fifty years old. She was wearing a battered leather jacket with two patches—a slightly faded one he recognized as the Sentinels' emblem, and a newer one with a diving snowy owl. There were other, brighter spots in the jacket, betraying where patches had been removed. "You must be saKhan Cavell Malthus," the woman spoke. Her voice was harsh.

Cavell nodded. "I am. And you are?"

"Lance Commander Marion Rhialla, of the Snowbirds Special Missions Combined Arms Team, Sentinels Regimental Combat Team. I have the honor to represent Commander Calla Bighorn-Vlata, and speak on his behalf."

"Lance Commander?" Cavell was surprised that a woman this age only commanded four 'Mechs.

"Don't sweat a little jail time," Rhialla said.

Cavell saw Senefa roll her eyes. He had quickly come to realize that there were some among the Inner Sphere who were not the barbarians the Clans thought they were; the moniker did seem to fit Lance Commander Rhialla, however. "Very well. Do you bear a message, Lance Commander?"

"I do." Rhialla's flinty eyes met Cavell's. "I'm here to deliver a challenge, sir. I think you Clanners call it a Trial of Possession."

Cavell's eyebrows rose, and he saw Senefa's bored expression become a surprised one. The Spheroids are learning, quiaff? "Do you know what you are asking, Lance Commander?"

Rhialla shrugged. "I suppose. It's a duel. We negotiate—you Clanners call it a 'bid'—what forces we're going to fight with. Then we beat the shit out of each other, and whoever wins, wins. Except that we request fighting you for the Tri-Cities. We do this Trial thing with a lance or two of 'Mechs versus one of your Stars, and if we win, you leave—and we let you go. If you win, we retreat back to the Dumbarton Subcontinent and leave you people in place." He could tell from Rhialla's expression that she was less than happy about that bid.

Cavell nodded. "That is essentially it, aff. However, we must bid beforehand what forces—we simply cannot make a decision here and now, quiaff? I must speak with my officers. Please inform Commander Bighorn-Vlata that I am deeply honored—and impressed—by his request, and I will meet him under a flag of truce in twenty-four hours…say, in the Hillbork Forest? He and his officers?"

Rhialla's lips curled into a snarl. "So you can get us all together and kill us? Fuck that." The fact that Rhialla was in a church seemed not to faze her at all.

Cavell resisted the temptation to sigh in frustration. Maybe they do not understand. Sometimes it is like speaking to children. "I and my officers will be there as well, Lance Commander. If my forces fire on yours, they will undoubtedly reply, and then we will all be dead, quiaff? Besides, I believe your commander is an honorable man. He will understand." He resisted a smile, too. "Are you an honorable woman, Lance Commander Rhialla?"

Rhialla laughed derisively. "I was, once. Then I fucking grew up."

"Must you use such disgusting and foul language?" Senefa asked.

Rhialla turned and winked. "I'll fucking use any shitty language I want, you cocksucking Clanner cunt." Senefa's eyes rounded and she looked a little sick at the profanity. She turned back to Cavell, who wasn't sure to laugh or be nauseated as well. "Very well, saKhan. Tomorrow. I'll deliver the message. If we're not there, don't hold your breath—that means my commander came to his senses and he's just going to overrun your ass when the fucking snow melts. But you're right, he's an honorable man, so I imagine he'll be there."

"I imagine he will be, Lance Commander. Perhaps you will be too, quiaff? You can be in the bid for the Trial," Cavell said.

Rhialla smiled. "I sure fucking hope so. I'll take any one of your warriors any day of the week and twice on fucking Sunday. The last one of you Clan sons of bitches that challenged me fucking died." She looked past him and saw the priest standing behind the altar, as appalled as Senefa at Rhialla's profanity. "Sorry, Father. It's a bad habit of mine, swearing." She nodded at Cavell. "Are we done here?"

"Aff. I will communicate times and such within three hours."

Rhialla gave another nod, snapped to attention, then spun on one heel and marched to the door. "You." She pointed at the Elemental. "Escort me to the perimeter." The infantryman came to attention as well, used to the tone of command she used.

"Hold, Lance Commander!" Senefa shouted, her voice echoing. "Your knife." She patted the scabbard on her hip.

"Keep it," Rhialla returned. "I'll get it back tomorrow, after we've hosed out what's left of your fucking body out of the cockpit." She winced. "Sorry again, Father." Then she motioned the two Elementals to follow her and stalked down the stairs. The two Elementals hesitated, then followed.

Senefa shook her head in disgusted amazement. "What a barbaric, sickening old woman. No wonder she's never been promoted! I would have her in a dezgra unit tomorrow, just for her language!" To her surprise, Senefa saw that Cavell was chuckling. "Sir?"

Cavell waved towards the entrance. "There, Star Captain, is a warrior. Despite her foul tongue, she is a leader with no fear. Can you tell the way she commanded our Elementals? That tone of voice? Like a falconer, quiaff? I suspect she is a lance commander by choice. Deep in the enemy camp, and not afraid to hurl insults in our face."

"Hmpf," Senefa grunted. "She knows we would not hurt an envoy. We are not Smoke Jaguars."

"Does she?" Cavell said. "To her, we are the barbarians." He made one more look around the cathedral, then also gave the priest a nod. "Thank you, Father. I apologize for my…guest's behavior."

The priest bowed. "Thank you, sir. I hope you will spare the cathedral when the battle comes."

"I suspect there will be no battle, Father. Not one that damages the city." Cavell turned and strode towards the entrance, leaving Senefa to catch up. "Assemble our staff, Star Captain. We need to begin setting up the bid."

Senefa followed him out the door into the sunshine. "Ovkhan, if I may, I believe we do not need to bid."

Cavell stopped. "You surprise me, Senefa. You are not one of those fools who wants to die here for some misplaced honor, quineg?"

"Neg, ovkhan. But there is no reason to bid when you already have the instrument of victory. One that will unsettle the Spheroids and leave them no choice but to accept, or look foolish."

"I do?" Cavell's eyebrows went up again. "And what is this instrument?"

Senefa's smile was predatory. "Me."

SUPPLEMENTAL NOTES: Obviously some deviation from Battletech canon here. The saKhan of Clan Jade Falcon in 3050 was Timur Malthus, not Cavell Malthus-Cavell makes one appearance in canon Battletech, when he's the Jade Falcon representative at Phelan Kell's adoption ceremony. When I first wrote these stories back in 1991 (!), I thought maybe he was the Jade Falcon Khan. Timur Malthus was relieved of command after Twycross and Vandervahn Chistu took his place, so I integrated that canon story into this one.

Dmja Sneuth is also a canon character! She's mentioned very briefly in the 20 Year Update as being one of Wolfnet's operatives. How does she know so much about the Clans? That should be obvious to Battletech fans...