Anywhere
Tamar March
Federated Commonwealth
4 March, 3050





        The pace was frenetic. As the smoke of combat, and the frantic mess of comm channels clouded her view of the actual picture of combat, Fiona could only try to make sense of the scattered and fragmented transmissions coming across her comm link. The RCT was in chaos. Disparate elements were shouting and clamoring for support across the net as the situation spun out of control.

     These Jade Falcons were running roughshod over any and all opposition they faced. They were apparently honor driven like the samurai of the Draconis Combine, trying to coerce their opponents into single combat whenever and wherever they could.

     "Leftenant, all our parent elements are pulling out. We have no direction, but should we follow?"

     She slammed her fist against the console of her Wyvern."No, we are not going to bail out and leave this M*A*S*H truck to fend for itself. Our orders from Battalion and Regimental were to support these elements, and we are going to damn well hold the line and support these elements. "

     "But leftenant, they'll chew us to bits. How do we hold with just a lance and a few infantry against the whole damn lot of them?" Markey asked. 

     The truth was she didn't know. She didn't have a clue. She looked down at her tactical display, the few friendly blue dots that appeared were painfully far away to the north, and rapidly moving off. To the south, more and more red dots were appearing. Her computer was struggling mightily to identify the enemy units, flipping madly back and forth between disparate designations and the all too common 'unknown battlemech' tag that was applied to many of them. Unknown attackers, unknown mechs, her support fleeing rapidly, and a truck full of wounded soldiers protected by a few dozen infantry relying on her somehow for protection. 

     She flipped her comm filter over to include general open frequencies,  and bas bombarded immediately by a host of angry voices on various open channels. "Stravag! Stand and fight, freebirth cowards!", "By the founders, there is not a drop of warrior blood among any of your pathetic genetic legacies. Even bandits face their fate more honorably than you!"

     The channels were filled with a chorus of such insults. But it was more than taunting. The challenges were filled with a genuine anger that the Fed-Com forces were now fleeing rather than fighting. The voices were strange, and definitely not from the Combine. 

     She was about to flip the filter back, her spirit sagging and her mind void of any idea that might offer hope. Then, in the angry cries of the enemy warriors, the spark of an idea flashed in her head. 

     She clicked her comms back over to her lance frequency. "Markey, rally the troops in a tight perimeter around the hospital truck. Get everyone ready to move out at a moment's notice,  but dont move yet."

     "Leftenant, are you nuts? We might barely get back to our lines if we run now. But if we hang around?" She could hear the fear in his voice. It was a gear she shared, possibly even more so. But she could not allow herself to surrender to it. The lives of the whole group were depending on her keeping her wits, her fighting skill, and some false bravado. 

     "I know what I'm doing, Markey. Follow orders. I'll get you out of this. All of you. Just trust me on this." Without waiting for a response, she flipped over to a general frequency. 

     "I am Leftenant Fiona Kendrick, of the Ivaarson Chasseurs. Though my comrades may flee, I do not fear you. I will stand and fight in single combat against any you care to offer. I ask only that we fight over a worthy prize. Reply if you dare."

     With that, she closed her eyes and rested her head back. This would either pay off incredibly,  or be the last and most foolish mistake she ever made. 

     There was nothing but silence for a few seconds, then a deep male voice came over the line. 

     "I am Star Captain Terrence Mattlov, Commander of Trinary Charlie, 8th Jade Falcon Regulars. Your batchall is crude, but understood. You wish a trial of possession, quiaff?"

     "Call it whatever you want. I'm offering you a fight. Me against your champion."

     "Even a challenge as weak as yours is a welcome sight on this pitiful rock. Over what do you wish to fight this trial?"

     She took a deep breath. This was it. "My comrades are fleeing, and in doing my duty, protecting this mobile hospital, I find myself cut off from my parent command. When I am victorious, you will allow safe passage for me, my lance, the hospital truck, and its supporting forces."

     The enemy commander laughed. "Bold words for someone who has yet to fire a shot against us Falcons. What is the prize when you are defeated by whatever token force is needed to put you down?"

    "If I am sefeated, then I will be dead. But should this happen, my entire force will surrender to you, men and material alike."

     There was a brief pause before Mattlov replied. "A pitiful prize, but we must take what we can get. Well bargained and done, Leftenant Fiona. My warriors will bid for the small honor of defeating you. The trial will commence in five minutes."

     It was done. Now all she had to do was win.