Anywhere

Tamar March

Federated Commonwealth

10 March, 3050

Mechwarrior Abigail had awakened early, as was her normal routine, and had begun her morning jog when her comm unit beeped for her attention. There was little to do on this dreary Inner Sphere world, at least since they had initially put down most of the meager resistance offered by the paltry Inner Sphere garrison force. True, yesterday there had been some minor action, when a band of malcontents had staged what they hoped would be a raid on one of the planetary supply depots, but even that action had proven brief, as the surats had quickly fled in disorganized panic shortly after the Jade Falcon forces had engaged them. One foolhardy warrior had even engaged her Nova’s commander in a duel in what was a desperate ploy to escape the entire force being crushed. At least that warrior, sad as the display had been, had fought honorably, but even then, Abigail had not had a chance to glory in the fight, as the Nova commander had taken the ragged Inner Sphere mech down with his own point of Elementals.

She had set off on a jog in the morning, and her mind had wandered to hopes of their next campaign, where hopefully there would be a greater challenge. But her daydreams of glory hadbeen interrupted by a summons from Star Commander Lovvins, who wished to meet with her back at the dropship where their command was currently staged, awaiting relief by garrison troops so they could prepare for the next wave of the invasion to liberate Terra from the clutches of the vile barbarians who currently sullied its glory.

She quickly abbreviated her run and returned to the spaceport, catching a groundcar to speed her along to the large spheroid DropShip that housed her unit. As she dismounted from the passenger seat, she saw the large form of tar Commander Lovvins standing beside one of the open loading ramps. She approached him and gave him a quick salute. Though on the small side for an Elemental, the Star Commander nevertheless struck a fearsome image due to his considerable bulk. She had served with him for less than a year, and they had only seen limited combat so far in the early stages of the invasion, but she had developed a respect for him. There were few Ristars to be found among the ranks of the genetically bred Elemental infantry, but Lovvins had so far proven to display a good sense of leadership, and unusual for one of his breeding, a strong sense of the internecine politics of Clan leadership.

Though she claimed to despise politics, Abigail was not naïve, and realized the need for considerations beyond pure battlefield skill. Though she hardly considered herself anything of a political creature, she had early on recognized the usefulness of allying herself with someone who did, and she had found that in the Star Commander. Hopefully it would bear fruit on the road to Terra. 

“My apologies, Star Commander, if I had known you wished a meeting this morning, I would have forgone my morning exercise routine. I hope you were not kept waiting long.”

The Elemental gestured for her to follow him. “Neg, Mechwarrior Abigail. There is no problem. It is good to see my warriors keeping in proper fighting trim, even if we have not yet faced tremendous challenges here on our quest thusfar.”

She nodded, falling into line with her superior. “Aff, it would seem there is not much left to be done on this rock. Though you brought glory to our Nova with your defeat of the Inner Sphere surat yesterday. It is too bad that the rest of the bandits escaped our grasp.”

He smiled and gestured dismissively with his hand. “It was invigorating, but as you say, the majority of our prey was lost. I have that situation well in hand, however. We will crush those sad embers of resistance and move on to greater glory in the next wave.”

Abigail raised an eyebrow. “Oh, Star Commander?”

“Yes, that is partly why I summoned you. It has some little bit to do with ending the insignificant vestiges of dissent on this planet, and slightly more to do with my plans for gaining glory and an upper hand in this invasion, for us and our Clan.”

Her curiosity was now piqued. “And what is that, Star Commander?”

“You will see. Follow me. I have a task for you.”

He led her onto the ship, up several levels and through several bulkheads until finally they came upon the medbay. One of the techs looked up briefly, then buried his nose back in his work, not wishing to bother the two warriors on their business. Lovvins led her past the first bed and pulled back the curtain to the second bed, beckoning her to follow him in.

    On the bed, a woman lay unconscious, an IV in her arm and a few basic monitors hooked up to her to track her vital signs. Other than a small medipatch on her temple, from which a small bruise was beginning to peek out, she showed no signs of injury. She was young, probably roughly around Abigail’s twenty-one years, she guessed, with long dark brown hair. The only other thing that Abigail noted was that the woman looked frail, her arms slender and her facial features delicate. Most likely a scientist, or perhaps a member of the artisan sub-cast of the merchants, she guessed.

    “Should I recognize this woman, Star Commander?” she asked inquisitively. 

    “Neg. Her name is Fiona, formerly Leftenant Fiona Kendrick of the Ivarsson Chasseurs.” He replied.

    Abigail raised an eyebrow. “The mechwarrior you defeated yesterday, quiaff?”

    “Aff. She ejected and our people captured her.”

    Abigail stifled a laugh. “You cannot be serious, Star Commander. This wisp of a thing is what in the Inner Sphere passes as a Mechwarrior? I would have thought her a bookkeeper, or a dancer or some such.”

    Lovvins shook his head. “Aff, not only is she a Mechwarrior, but so far she has twice defeated our own Mechwarriors in single combat during the campaign on this world. I have claimed her as a bondsman.”

    Abigail frowned and set her hands on her hips. “You are joking, quiaff? Even if she was lucky enough to defeat two of our warriors, who should be ashamed of themselves, what would ever possess you to make her a bondsman? Yes, she may have information on where these rabble are hiding, but our scientists can easily pry that from her mind. Then she is of little use to us, and might as well be discarded.”

    Now it was Lovvins turn to frown. “Neg, you are being short sighted, Abigail. She has shown ability as a warrior, and unlike most of these vermin, she has fought honorably each time she has faced our forces. I believe she has much to contribute to our clan, and to my plans.”

    Abigail turned her gaze to the woman and scoffed. “And how, pray tell, do you envision her helping you or the Clan?”

    “I intend to have her trained to become a warrior once again in our ranks, and provide insight into the barbarian ways of our enemy.”

    Abigail turned to her commander, slightly shocked. “Stravag, you cannot be serious. You believe this tiny scrap of a freebirth can be made into a Jade Falcon Warrior? Look at her. Even if she has some meager skills in a mech, an eyas straight from the canister could smash her to a pulp in seconds.”

    A slight trace of anger crossed the Elemental’s face. “Remember you are speaking to a superior, Mechwarrior. Respect is due.  And yes, I agree that she has a long way to go before even attempting to prove herself as a warrior. But in this race to Terra, we need every advantage we can get. I intend to help our clan race ahead of the others, and part of that is learning to adapt to the ways of these barbarian hordes ahead of us. To do that, I need someone with an understanding of their ways. But I do not wish some simple advisor or consultant. I need someone who also understands our ways, who thinks and acts like a warrior. This one has shown an ability to adapt to our ways. That is what I need. That is why I need you to be her trainer and guide into our ways.”

    Abigail looked away in frustration. “My apologies, Star Commander, I did not mean any disrespect. But why would you punish me with such a fool’s errand? How am I supposed to craft this into anything resembling a Jade Falcon warrior? I am not a Falconer or a canister nanny.”

    He smiled slyly. “It is precisely because you are so adamantly opposed that I chose you for this assignment. That, and I need someone I can trust, and that is you. I can trust you to be harsh and get the job done. I do not want some sniveling facsimile of a warrior, I want her to become the real thing. I know I can trust you to accomplish it, or break her utterly in the attempt.”

    She sighed. “And if that happens?”

    “Then it happens. If it does, she was not what I needed in the first place. I believe I am correct, but if I am mistaken, I will need you to prove me wrong.”

    Abigail shook her head in exasperation. “Very well, Star Commander. I will do as you ask. When do I begin?”

    “Shortly, but I do not know precisely when. She has been sedated, and I have not yet spoken with her to explain her situation. Much depends on how she responds and how quickly she accepts her place in our Clan. Much about these Inner Sphere denizens is still unkown. I will get back to you shortly.”

Anywhere
Tamar March
Federated Commonwealth
9 March, 3050




       The choice of battlefield had been a necessity in order to prevent the clanners from following the remnants of the militia attack force, but now, in the narrow confines of the gap, Fiona was less sure of her surroundings than she would have liked. She had taken her mech to the gap, and the rest of the resistance forces had beat a hasty retreat with the time she was buying, but the clanners were slow to make the rendezvous, or at least slower than she was expecting. Thus far they had been nothing but bold and aggressive, and now, there were signs of caution. That was going to work against her.

     Her Wyvern stood in the middle of the gap, which was little more than a plowed road through the steep ridgeline. The walls on both sides were relatively steep, and covered with undergrowth and brush. For the most part, the path looked relatively unused. Her unit hadn't spent enough time on the planet to get to know the terrain beyond maps and charts.

     The timer that she set was steadily counting down from the agreed upon ten minutes, and yet there was no sign of a clan advance. There had been a few trace contacts on the edge of her sensor range, but nothing of significance and nothing that had moved on her position. With the timer nearly up, she contemplated opening a channel to try to goad the clanners into action, but decided against it. She would just have to be patient.

     Thus far, she had won two duels with this unknown enemy, and in both cases she had faced off against an opponent significantly lighter than her own Battlemech's weight. Even those were tough fights. She had no idea what kind of Mech this Star Commander Lovvins would bring. Her mech was battered, but not significantly damaged from her earlier combat. She would win. She had to win. That's all there was to this resistance. Just win the next fight. Sooner or later, help would come.

     As the timer hit zero, she dialed her sensors up to maximum. Her sensors painted five enemy mechs arrayed about a kilometre and a half away, but none of them made any move. She was puzzling this out, when movement caught her eye on the normal vislight display of her cockpit. There was some kind of movement amongst the undergrowth, and despite it being relatively close to her mech, her sensors told her nothing. Was it infantry? Why would they send infantry against a mech?

     Just then, she remembered some of the scattered comms traffic when the Falcons had first attacked. There were rumblings of some kind of super-infantry that were tearing up much of the conventional forces. But they were infantry, how much of a threat could they be?

     As that thought crossed her mind, her systems wailed the tone of a missile lock, and seemingly from every direction, small smoke trails blossomed. Her mech shook under the impact of what felt like a full barrage of SRMs. As she tried to make sense of the tactical situation, a few spears of light lanced from cover, slashing her armor like talons. It was then that she spotted the source of her torment.

     She first spotted the one bounding from cover. It was larger than an infantryman, and oddly shapen, with an almost bulbous chest. But it ran like a man, and shot spears of laser energy from it's right arm as it raced towards her. She triggered her SRM launcher, which sent 6 missiles lashing towards the insect-like attacker. They exploded around him, showering the area with debris and death that would shred an infantry attack.  Yet out of the smoke and chaos, the thing bounded ever closer to her.

      It was not alone. At least three or four more of the little beasts were all scrambling straight for her mech, taking pot shots with their lasers and seemingly oblivious to the danger of charging against a Battlemech. She speared the one in front of her, who had somehow survived her missile volley, with her crosshairs and pulled the trigger for her large laser. The beam struck the little creature square in the chest, and seemed to stagger him for a moment, as the bulbous frontal plate that was his chest absorbed the energy, then he  fell onto his back and lay still.

      She had little time to ponder the idea of these armored bugs that took a large laser to put them down, as her mech was rocked with several thuds. After a few seconds, she realized that the little thuds were the little bugs jumping onto her mech. She learned this as her system began rapidly painting holes in the armor diagram.

     She saw one of the little creatures tearing away at her mech's skin on her left torso. With as much control as she could manage, she worked the controls and brought her mech's right hand around and grabbed the offending enemy. She flung the armored bug away, only to see the thing break it's fall into a roll, and come up into a crouch. Then it poited it's barrel arm at her and snapped off a laser shot that melted armor from her mech's head.

     She had no idea what to do. There was no training for this. Her first instinct was to try to execute a kind of drop and roll, although she worried that the damage she did to her own mech might outweigh whatever these little armored insects were doing. Before she had a chance to test her theory, one of the bugs appeared on her cockpit canopy and began pounding away at the ferro-glass with an ugly claw.

     It took only a few impacts before the creature managed to shatter and carve enough away to make a breach, and once the cockpit was breached, it pulled it's claw arm out and thrust it's laser barrel into the opening. Thinking of nothing else, all Fiona could do was grab the pull handle for her mech's ejection seat and pull with all her might.

     Before the enemy could trigger his laser, the explosive bolts fired, and her command couch rocketed skyward. Well, not quite skyward. The armored enemy must have somehow impacted the ejection sequence, because her command couch thrashed about aimlessly on a far shallower arc than it should have.

     She remembered little of what happened next. One impact, then another, then they all blended together. Darkness, a falling sensation, then an abrupt stop. Then unconsciousness.

Anywhere
Tamar March
Federated Commonwealth
9 March, 3050




     Fiona thumbed the trigger for her large laser, and the shot rang true. As energy poured into the clan mech, the temperature in her cockpit rose to almost unbearable levels. Part of her wanted to close her eyes and sink away, but she fought through the urge to unconsciousness and was rewarded with the sight of the enemy Uller collapsing, limp on the ground as pieces of the massive gyro that had been keeping it upright spun off in all directions.

     She had won. Now all those fools back at the resistance camp would be forced to take her tactics seriously. For days they had argued over the best way to go about liberating supplies from these clan invaders, and in the end, they had compromised. The militia got their way, and a large scale raid was planned. In fact, the raid was probably going on right now. But Fiona had stuck to her guns. These clanners were obsessed with duels, and she could use that. She had managed to wrangle permission to take her Wyvern out alone, and test her theory while the main group pulled off a coordinated raid.

     She had marched her mech to one of the supply dumps they had been targeting, challenged the defending clanners to a duel for three trucks worth of supplies, and now she had won. A single battle had netted three entire trucks worth of munitions and spare parts. While she hoped that the main attack was going well, even if it did, there could be no arguing that her way was more efficient. It involved lower risk, and bigger payoffs.

     She contemplated getting out of her mech to supervise the loading, but instead opted for the safety of her cockpit. She watched as a recovery crew swarmed over her downed opponent. The mechwarrior inside emerged uninjured, but looked ready to start a fight all over again if need be. He was clearly unnerved at having lost the duel. Who were these people? These Clan Jade Falcons? There would be time enough to discover that later, she supposed.

     The trucks were almost loaded when a burst came over her comm line.

     "Kendrick...you there?"

     So much for operational security. She recognized the voice of  Hauptmann Clay in spite of the near panicked tone of his voice "Yes sir, I'm here, and I have recovered supplies. I'm heading to the-"

     He cut her off before she could finish her report. "That's all fine and dandy, but we've kicked a hornet's nest over here. We hit them hard, but they were on us with reinforcements in minutes. We're all shot up and trying to break contact. We need your ass on the line here, and fast. We're planning to make a stand of it at one of the passes over the ridge line. Pull up your AFFC map and it will be marked as Mitchell's Gap. We're gonna blunt these Falcons in the nose...or beak..or whatever at the pass, hit them hard, kick 'em in the teeth, then break contact fast. You got all that girl?"

     She sighed. "Understood. I'll make best speed to the gap and help you boys get your fat out of the fryer."


     By the time she arrived at the pass, it was clear that the plan had gone all to hell. She stumbled into a disorganized mob of mechs and vehicles, and her tactical display was showing a large contingent of enemy contacts heading their way very quickly.

     "Who's in charge here?" She barked over the comms.

     "Clay here, don't act all smug now. We're trying to get organized to put up a defense of the gap here, just take your place in line and we'll get you all situated."

     She slammed her fist against one of the displays in the cockpit in frustration. Once again, the higher-ups were making an absolute disaster of the situation.

     "Sir, you don't have time, they're right on top of us. Their mechs run faster and cooler than ours, and they're going to be on our ass any second now."

     Once again, the disheartening drawl of Hauptmann Clay came over the line in response. "Don't get your panties in a twist, we know this is serious, and we're gonna' handle it."

     She fought off the urge to curse over the comms. "No. I'm going to handle it"

     She turned her Wyvern, battered from her earlier duel, in the direction that her tactical display said the Falcons were coming from and pushed the throttle forward.

     "Where in the hell are you going, Kendrick? Get your ass back-" she switched the militia channel to mute and opened a broadband frequency.

     "Jade Falcons, I am Leftenant Fiona Kendrick of the Ivaarson Chasseurs. I challenge you to a trial by combat. If I win, you will cease your pursuit. If you win, we will lay down our arms and cease all resistance. Who will accept my challenge?"

    She waited for what seemed like ages, but in actuality was only a few seconds. "I am Star Commander Lovvins, of the 8th Falcon Regulars. Your batchall is late. You have already broken the tenets of zellbrigen and fought like rabble. I will not afford you honorable combat now. You are dezgra. You fight like bandits, you shall be treated as such."

     Damn Hauptmann Clay and his people, they've endangered the one weapon we have against these people. There must be a way around this...."Star Commander Lovvins, I apologize for the conduct of the troops behind me. Their conduct will be dealt with later. But I am no bandit. Twice I have defeated you Jade Falcons in single combat, once during the invasion, and again just a few hours ago I defeated one of you in a trial for possession of supplies. My conduct is honorable. You cannot use that to cover your fear."

     Again, there was a few moments of silence.

     "Ha! Such insolence from a beaten people is ripe. It seems your claim is just, but I will not extend the honor to those surats that cower behind you. You may not protect them with your honor. If you wish single combat, that will be granted as your right, but the pursuit of these vermin will not stop."

     Her mind raced with possibilities. There had to be a way to make this dueling system work in her favor, she just had to find it. She would have to stall for time. "Be careful who you call bandits and vermin. We are all warriors of the Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth. Our conduct might not be pure, but we are no pirates."

     This time the deep voice of the clan commander responded quickly. "I grow tired of these words. I grant you a Trial of Grievance for declaring you dezgra. You may choose the location for this trial, but choose quickly."

     An idea formed in her head. "Very well, Star Commander. I choose the site known as Mitchell's Gap. While we fight, none of your forces may pass through the gap. You can continue your pursuit all you like, just not through our battleground, at least until we're done."

     The clanner scoffed at her. "Very well. You grant too much honor to the mob that you seek to protect. You may have it your way. The surats may retreat, and we will fight our trial at the Gap in ten minutes. I hope the cowardly rabble behind you are appreciative of your sacrifice, though they do not deserve it. I bid my point of force against you. Remember your decision after I have vanquished you, little Inner Sphere warrior."
   

Anywhere
Tamar March
Federated Commonwealth
4 March, 3050


     Fiona pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail, her hair still damp with moisture from the cockpit. She took a breath, readied herself, and walked through the door of what had once been some kind of office or meeting room at the abandoned quarry that was serving as an ad hoc rally point for whatever resistance forces remained on the surface of Anywhere.

     A host of people sat and stood around the elongated table. A few of the faces she vaguely remembered from her regiment. Most were unfamiliar, clad in a motley assortment of uniforms, but bearing the insignia of the Anywhere Militia. A few glanced in her direction, but most spoke among themselves.

     At the head of the table sat two men, both wearing militia uniforms and the rank insignia marking them as Hauptmanns, presumably the highest ranking officers left on the planet. One leaned back in his chair. He could best be described as non-descript. Probably in his late thirties, he was of average height and build, had hair halfway between brown and blonde, and could probably disappear into any crowd, anywhere. The other man looked like something out of a holovid. He was probably in his fifties, his dark hair thoroughly mixed through with grey.  He sat leaning on the arm of his chair, chewing on a smoldering stub of a cigar, and wore a cowboy hat.

     On noticing her, Cigar Man took the nub of the cigar from his mouth and gestured in her direction. "Everyone, this here is Leftenant Kendrick. Near as we can tell, she's the ranking officer left on the planet from the Second New Ivaarsen that didn't turn tail and run."

     Her eyes darted around the room, taking in a mixture of sneers and looks of disinterest. "Strictly speaking, sir, that's not true. There's a combat surgeon in the MASH unit I escorted in, he carries the rank of Kommandant."

     Cigar chuckled. "Yeah, well I ain't takin' my order from a doctor, so for all intents and purposes, what I said stands. I'm Hauptmann Clay, this here is Hauptmann Hallick. We're glad to have your people on board. It's going to be a long slog trying to get these Falcons off our planet, we'll take any help we can get. We've just been taking store here, it will be a few days before we can start getting off any real raids. We're pretty short on supplies, so we'll have to hit one of the bigger supply dumps before these clanners can get their paws on them."

     She paused a moment before speaking up. "Begging the Hauptmann's pardon, but we should get moving as fast as we can. Grab supplies before the Jade Falcons can get settled in. These guys are big on single combat, that gives us a chance to hit them in multiple places."

     Clay raised an eyebrow. "No offense missy, but are you crazy? These guys, whoever the hell they are, they're tough as nails. We have to gang up, hit 'em fast and hard where it counts. You want to split up?"

     "They're over the top on these duels, even more so than the snakes. They'll fight prize fights, 'trials of possesion' they seemed to call it. You fight them one-on-one over a prize and beat them, they'll just let you walk away with the prize. We can use that. Hit multiple supply dumps in multiple trials. We launch six attacks, even if we only win half of them, we've won three whole supply dumps."

     The Hauptmann stood up. "Girl, I've seen people fighting honor duels before. I've been fighting the dracs since you were in nappies. I'm telling you, fighting on their terms isn't the way to go. They like duels, you use that to your advantage by making it a junkyard fight."

     Fiona shook her head. "With all due respect sir, if I'd fought that way, we wouldn't be here right now. I only got my people out because I won the right to escape in a duel."

     Clay stabbed a finger in her direction. "That's all well and good. Just because you got lucky, doesn't mean you're the next incarnation of General Kerensky."

     "I didn't get lucky, sir. I was just better than them. We all can be."

     Clay shook his head, "Enough, Leftenant. This is our world, and our fight. You're welcome to help out, but you'll follow orders and do it our way. Understood?"

     She gritted her teeth. "Yes Hauptmann, understood."

     He smiled and put the cigar back in his mouth. "Good. Now, take a few days to get your people repaired and rested. We'll all meet up for a strategy session in a few days."
     

Anywhere
Tamar March
Federated Commonwealth
4 March, 3050

     "I am Mechwarrior Greer of the 8th Falcon Regulars. I pilot the Kit Fox that stands before our lines. I have won the bidding for the right to seize your rabble of a force in a trial of possession. Do not flee like the cowards we have seen so far, and I promise you a quick death in battle that will fulfill your obligations as a warrior. Our trial will commence as soon as you signal your readiness."

     Fiona's palms were already sweating, only the fingerless gloves she wore kept her grip on the control sticks secure. She glanced down at her targeting monitor, which still struggled hopelessly to identify the enemy mech, whose pilot had referred to it as a Kit Fox. Sensors pegged it at about thirty tons. It's one arm ended in a barrel of some sort, which at that weight class must be a very small bore autocannon. Other than that, she was blind to its capabilities. At the very least, she outmassed it in her Wyvern. 

     She raised her mechs arm in a salute. "I stand ready to fight you, Greer. I assure you, you're in for a surprise."

     With that, she kicked her mech up into a flank speed run. She didn't know what that little mech could do, but there had been reports of the enemy mechs having very long ranges. She wasnt going to risk it. Get in close, hit hard and fast, and put her weight advantage to good use. 

     The enemy mech advanced toward her, though not at what looked like a run. She was pondering triggering her jump jets to launch herself into range for her LRM rack, when suddenly a silvery flash twinkled into her vision just before a tremendous force smashed into her mechs torso. The impact of whatever the shell was nearly spun her around, having not been braced for the shot.

     What the hell was that? I cant even get a lock on him with my LRMs, and he's hitting me with a cannon that hits at the range of a light AC but punches like the big cannon on a Hunchback. 

     She waited a few seconds, then triggered her jump jets, just in time to see another of the silver cannonball fly beneath her. She rode her jets to their maximum height and readied herself for landing. As soon as she hit the ground she flexed her Wyverns knees to absorb the landing. As soon as she was under control, she jerked to the right hard, avoiding yet another shot from the enemy cannon, although just narrowly. A sharp crack pierced the air after the supersonic slug passed her. 

     Greer was being free with his shots, seemingly firing as soon as his cannon recharged. She only had a handful of seconds between volleys, and she knew that her mech was not going to take many hits from whatever that gun was. 

     She didn't yet have a hard lock on the enemy mech for her missiles, but nonetheless she triggered a salvo that sent ten missiles streaking towards the small enemy mech. They impacted a short distance in front of him, but it must have been enough to throw off his aim, as his next shot drilled into the ground in front of her. 

     Another burst of her jump jets brought her to within range for her heavy laser. She crouched on landing, and snapped off a shot from the large laser. The beam scored a hit, scoring armor from the small mechs leg. 

     The enemy reply came in the form of yet another shot from his cannon, which struck her shoulder, but luckily at a glancing angle, lessening the damage. Two medium laser also clawed at her mech, one hitting her arm, and the other a leg. 

     She glanced down at her damage readout. Shit. Those medium lasers hit almost as hard as my heavy laser. 

     It was now clear that range wasnt going to be her friend. She continued her strategy of trying to get close. If she could bring her heavier weight and all of her firepower to bear, she might stand a chance. 

     Her heat was beginning to spike, and she knew with the strain she would soon be putting on her heat sinks, she dared not risk another jump just yet. Instead, she stood and charged yet again, her mental clock ticking the seconds by until she expected another volley from her foe, and just before she felt it would come, she juked her mech, this time to the left.

     The enemy pilot had anticipated her move, but not the direction. A silver slug, followed by two lancing laser beams blasted wide of her as she realigned her charge on the enemy light mech. She pulled the trigger on her large laser, which scored yet another hit on the squat Jade Falcon mech. As the beam finished it's work on the Kit Fox's torso, a target lock tone sounded in her helmet, and instinctively she triggered a blast from her LRM's. Soon she would be inside their range, and they made this volley count, eight of the missiles pounding across her foe.

     This time, his reply was true, his cannon striking her Wyvern squarely in the chest, nearly stopping her momentum. The enemy lasers followed up, tearing two gashes in her torso armor. Even though she was trading shots with a light mech, she knew she was getting much harder than she was giving, and her protection was growing terrifyingly thin. She was praying that she would make it close enough to count before that protection began to fail.

     She waited until she hit the outside range on her short range missiles. As she stepped within range, she pulled into a salvo from the six-pack, simultaneously with her Nightwind large laser, coring more armor from the small enemy mech. She didn't have time to watch her handiwork to check for internal damage, as she slammed her booted feet down on the thrust pedals, sending her mech soaring into the air, and a wave of heat smashing into her.

     The enemy pilot was good, tracking her leap. While the cannon slug missed low, the two lasers cored precious armor from her right leg, slightly unbalancing her mech in the air. Coughing for oxygen in the stifling heat, she managed to right her trajectory and inject the spin that she desperately wanted to the jump. Her mech pirouetted in the air, and by the time she found herself over the clan mech, the two war machines facing's matched. A second more and her momentum carried her behind her opponent as she dropped to the ground.

     She didn't even wait for a lock, roughly aligning her crosshairs and snapping off a shot from all her weapons except her LRMs. The large laser, along with the pair of small lasers she had yet to use cored into the thin rear armor of the enemy mech. The six pack of missiles peppered the rear torso further, opening rents in the armor.

     She paid the price in heat. Her reactor struggled to meet the demand of the jump as well as the volley of weapons fire, and the raw heat dumped into her mech's innards was simply too much for her heat sinks to handle. She tried to inhale, but the incredible ambient heat seared her throat and lungs, the lack of oxygen pulling at her consciousness. She no longer felt sweat running down her exposed flesh, and as her head bobbed down for a moment, she imagined she could almost see the few meager drops of moisture evaporating off her leggings.

     She willed herself to retain consciousness, pulling her head back and slamming forward on the control sticks by instinct. Only muscle memory allowed her to complete the maneuver she had envisioned at the start of this particular attack. Her mech took two stumbling steps forward, then she drove her fist into the back of her shocked enemy, punching through the already savaged rear armor, her mech's right hand flexing open and then closed on some internals or another. She could almost feel the enemy mech die in her clutches as it went limp, then fell forward.

     She had no idea how much time had passed. She had simply leaned back in her command chair and tried desperately to breathe. Finally she blinked herself back to awareness, an unfamiliar voice sounding in her ears.

     "Leftenant Fiona....are you conscious?"

     She shook her head, trying to shake off the fatigue weighing her down.

     "Leftenant Fiona. Can you respond? This is Star Captain Terrence Mattlov."

     She tried to steady her pulse and took a deep breath. "Yes, Star Captain. I am here, I hear you, and I am the victor."

     She could hear an almost light tone to the Star Captain's voice. "Indeed, Leftenant, you won the trial, and your fight showed some skill. But do not gloat too openly, for your victory is a hollow one."

     She furrowed her brow. "What do you mean? You better not renege on our deal, Star Captain, or I will have your hide myself."

     "Relax, little Inner Sphere warrior. I will not violate the terms of our rede. You are the winner of the trial, and you shall have your prize. You, your lance, and those lesser forces that you protect may withdraw from the field of battle. But you cannot run far. As we speak, your cowardly comrades are lifting offworld. Look to the skies in front of you, and you can see them fleeing now like rats from a sinking ship. You are stranded here." She cut off his laughter with a slap of the comm switch, and tried desperately to fight back the tears as the clan forces withdrew, leaving her small band abandoned and alone.

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.

Anywhere
Tamar March
Federated Commonwealth
4 March, 3050




     "Leftenant, why are we just sitting here? Our armor elements are getting cut to pieces somehow out there by these pirates.!"

     Fiona took a deep breath before answering. "Can it, Markey. I don't know what's going on, I just know the general's plan seems to have hit a snag. But we can't go off half-cocked. Regimental will get it under control. Battalion says we'll be moving soon. I want a piece of these guys as much as you do."

     Holding her lance back was hard. They all wanted a shot at these raiders. Somewhere along the line, the plan had gone wrong. While they might not be at the top of the battlefield pecking order, the tanks of the RCT were still a huge chunk of guns and armor. They should have been enough to hold these raiders in place. That they seemingly were unable to do so was worrying.

     "Company, move up to grid 3-1-9. Looks like we've found trouble again, First and Second battalions are engaging the hostiles and we're to move up to support any breakthrough."

     She keyed an acknowledgement of the order and kicked her Wyvern up into cruising speed, keeping her lance tight to her as the company moved up, hopefully into some action. They advanced at a solid pace, and what they found was not good.

     Once they broke out of the woodlands into the gently rolling hills of the Brigham Rollo, they stumbled into the battlefield that had become a graveyard for the majority of their armor. In most cases, the hulks of the tanks were still burning. The medics had barely had time to start tending to the wounded, and rescue teams were still swarming over many of the destroyed vehicles.

     The enemy had apparently smashed through the armor regiments and simply kept moving. They were now somewhere ahead, locked in combat with the other two Chasseurs battalions. But the level of destruction she saw formed a pit in her stomach. The armor regiments had been hurt, and hurt badly. There was more to this than a simple pirate raid.

     "Company, apparently the boys in First Battalion are getting their hats handed to them, we're going to reinforce. Kendrick, your lance is to stay back and provide mech support to the protection detail. I guess these guys have some kind of super infantry or something, and the Kommandant wants to make sure the medics and recovery crews don't get caught without protection."

     "Aye sir." She acknowledged the order as she slammed her fist against the console. Fate was doing everything possible to conspire to keep her out of the fight, it seemed. As the rest of her company moved off, she posted her lance at various intervals around the field of carnage. She knew the order made sense, her lance was mainly configured as an urban defense lance, relatively slow but packing significant firepower. This wasn't ideal ground for them to defend, but they were better suited to it than the rest of the company.

     "Leftenant, what are we supposed to do here, twiddle our thumbs?" Always it was Markey with a wise crack.

     "We have to watch the recovery teams. I've got you guys positioned, just keep your eyes open. I'm going to climb out of the cockpit and see how they're doing on the ground."


     Ten minutes later, and she found herself on her knees, spewing her guts onto the ground outside of a M*A*S*H unit. Her heart was still pounding in her ears. The blood, guts, and general level of chaos had overcome her seconds into her visit to the mobile medical van. She had tried to steel herself and overcome it, but the physical sight of so many men and women torn apart and in agony had just overwhelmed her. She had managed to rush out of the door to the unit before the nausea overcame her and she fell to her knees.

     She had just managed to control her breathing, overcoming the reflex to expel more, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Normally she would have tried to brush it off, but her spirit was sapped.

     "It's ok, kid. Ain't a one of us who hasn't spilled our guts on the ground the first few times we saw a battlefield for real."

   "I just....I don't know what I was trying to show myself." She ran her hands through her hair, pulling it back out of her face to observe the person who had happened upon her. He was an infantryman, a sergeant from the looks of his uniform. "I told myself I wanted a feel for what was going on. Guess I got more than I bargained for."

     The groundpounder looked towards the horizon for a moment. "Yeah, well I think that's par for the course today. I've seem my share of pirate raids, this isn't one of them."

     "What do you mean?"

     The sergeant shrugged. "These raiders, they're sharper than any pirate I've ever seen. Got these god awful big armored infantry too. Their mechs were tearing our guys apart from ranges they had no business shooting from, and that was bad enough, but I tell you, when those damn armored infantry ran through us....I've never seen anything like it. Not even spec ops shit. Hell, these guys might as well have been miniature mechs for all the good our small arms fire did against them. Took mech grade weapons to put any kind of hurt on them at all.

     Fiona sat back against the stump of a tree. "So who do you think they are then? If they aren't pirates?"

     "Some kind of super crazy Dracs if you ask me."

     She shook her head to clear her mind and shake the nausea. "Can't be the Combine this far out. Why would you say that?"

     "The open comm channels were clogged with challenges to one-on-one fights, honor duels,  the kind of shit the Snakes eat up with their Bushido code. If you'd have heard it, they'd have all agreed to line up and fight a bunch of staged fights. Like it was all a big game. 'Course it ain't a game to all the boys they tore up when they swarmed all over our lines."

     "We'll get a handle on it. Even if it's Combine raiders, we'll get things under control." She was already trying to recover from her stumble and steel herself for the conflict to come.

     The sergeant smiled as he shook his head. "Ma'am, no disrespect to the rank or anything, but you're still wet behind the ears, aren't you?"

     She cocked her head, sure she could deal with anything this presumptuous veteran gropo could deal out. "Sergeant, this might be my first official combat assignment, but I'm a damn good Mechwarrior, near top of my class at the Robinson Battle Academy, and I know what I'm doing. We will get this under control, do you hear me?"

     The sergeant chuckled. "Leftenant, sir. I know this probably don't mean much, but I've got a few years of reading people. When you've seen as many people wear the uniform as I have, you pick up a thing or two. I can get a read on people. My family, we're 7th generation Lyran Commonwealth Armed forces, and damn near all of us have been groundpounders. I've got two girls in the service probably close enough to your age. And they're both groundpounders. Tough as nails and built like softball players. You, you're from a noble family I'd wager. You're built like a dancer. Ain't nothing against you, I'd wager you're a fine mech jockey. But I've got a finger a hell of a lot closer to the pulse of this shit than you, ma'am. This.....this is something big."

     She wanted nothing more than to dispel the man of his notion, but she knew in that moment that she had no case at all. And it scared her.