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| - Synopsis: The Suomi Warders are finally on their way home to Sampsa following several battles, a few choice encounters, and two assassination attempts against their CO by a mysterious business group fostering terrorism and piracy to increase profits. The Warder ranks have been swelled with new recruits including ex-patriots of lost Coleson’s Orb, a Solaris MechJock, an air company of VTOLs and the temporary addition Draconis Combine MechWarrior Naoko Fujiwara as a Liaison officer. Major John Linna and his command staff plan on training their new members into a true combined arms strike team in preparation of launching a counter strike against their hidden foes. But Chairman Miller has other plans for the Warders and has launched his own offensive initiatives. One threat Intelligence Captain Osmo Woods had come to suspect and was working on isolating. However, wedges may be forming within the Warder ranks that could tear the unit apart before the Chairman’s agents are prepared to act. Yet from far out in the Periphery a paid agent has sent a message pulsing toward the Linna brothers that could alter everything … if the information reaches Sampsa in time. The stories that chronicle the tale to this point are available under the author’s sections of the Pirate Jump Point page. The time period is just after the ComStar victory against the Clans at Tukayyid The JumpShip Stellar Shrike had performed a grapple and attached feed lines to the ancient recharge station Istanbul as the energy emitter arrays of space station had not worked reliably for the past decade or so. As they were already attached, a walking tube had been extended to allow the passengers of the various DropShips riding the Stellar Shrike to visit the shops, bars and eating establishments located on the huge rotating wheel of Istanbul’s gravity deck. There were some on the Istanbul’s crew that might suggest that perhaps the reason the emitters never seemed to get fixed could be found in the wallets that traveled down those walk tubes. But only when the Station Master was out of earshot. A somewhat boisterous visit was to be expected whenever a mercenary outfit came to call at such a port. While the Warders were not as exuberant as many units, they had come calling when the station was already hosting two DropShips of conventioneers that were busy proving that civilians can party just as hard as military types. On this day even the busiest deckhand was excited and ready to join the fun however. The big news had reached Istanbul’s system by relay. The unthinkable had happened. The Clans had been stopped cold by ComStar at Tukayyid and the Successor States had been saved. If there was such a thing as a zoo in space, the recharge station Istanbul currently qualified. A good number of Warders were squeezed into a bar called the Far Forward by it’s proprietor -although how one got ‘far forward’ on a rotating circular deck was a debatable issue. John Linna, Major and CO of the Warders, swirled the last dregs of beer around the bottom of his glass. He stared into the swishing liquid, but his mind was ignoring what his eyes were recording. Instead his attention was on images far from the crowded bar. He’d tuned out the celebration around him and had become alone with his thoughts despite being crowded around a table with several of his MechWarriors. John supposed he should be happy about the Tukayyid victory. He’d had his own brush with the Nova Cats and that one small encounter had been more than enough to convince him of the threat posed by the Clans. For that matter, the large swath the Clans had cut through the Inner Sphere spoke eloquently of their danger by itself. Tukayyid was an important victory. But it posed many unanswered questions. John was cursed with a brain that could never leave unanswered questions well enough alone. A person’s brain usually trains itself to recognize it’s owner’s name from even a babble of other words. Although preoccupied with the broader implications of the battle, John’s was no exception and he looked up as Sven called the Major’s out from across the table. “What was that?” John had to repeat. “I said, ‘what’s wrong’? Has Frank’s moroseness rubbed off on you?” John smiled at that. The first thing Lieutenant Frank Parks had done when informed of the Tukayyid battle was swear loudly and kick the nearest bulkhead. With the greatest battle of all time just completed, the Lieutenant was convinced that history wouldn’t even bother to record the Warder’s recent skirmish with the Nova Cats. “We’ve just been bumped from front page to historical footnote,” Frank had complained. “No, I was just thinking about some things,” called back John. “Besides, last I saw of Ranger he seemed to have recovered from his dismay well enough.” That made Sven smile. The conga line Parks had danced by attached to recently probably counted as recovery. John waved his glass at the others seated around him. “I’m going to fight my way back to the bar. Anyone need a refill?” The others waved him off. Everyone was fine at the moment. Naoko smiled to herself as she watched the Major move away from the table and through the crowd. She’d been with the Warders for a while now but still found herself occasionally shocked or amused at small differences between the largely Sampsa born Warders of the Free Worlds League and her Draconis Combine upbringing. This was another one. It would be unlikely enough to find a Combine unit’s CO in the same bar with enlisted personnel much less swilling beers with his MechWarriors. But to ask those of lower rank if he could bring them back a drink from the bar; that was nigh unthinkable in her DCMS experience. She saw Basem grinning to himself and realized that he must be thinking along the same lines. Like her, Lieutenant JG Dhafar had been academy trained in the Combine as well; although he hadn’t served in a regular DCMS unit as she had. Nor did he even drink alcohol for that matter. But he was here sharing the spirit of the moment with his unit mates all the same. The bar was crowded, but John’s intention hadn’t been to buy himself another beer anyway. Instead he wandered over to one of the viewports. A constantly moving vista of the solar system and the stars beyond played out as the grav-wheel spun eternally around. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there when he suddenly became aware of someone else’s presence. First Lieutenant Gracie Aukland laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Penny for your thoughts?” “That might be more than they’re worth,” he smiled. “You know me Gracie, I always over worry things. I keep wondering where all those ComGuard troops came from for starters. If they had a military that big why haven’t they used it to stop any of the more senseless wars that have been fought in the past few generations? Or stand up to the Clans earlier? And this is just a truce Gracie. Fifteen years for the Inner Sphere to bide its time and produce weapons like crazy. And in the meantime what happens to all the planets that have already fallen to the Clans? Fifteen years…it’s hard to imagine it….” His voice trailed off in thought again. “Imagine what?” she prompted. “I keep thinking of my daughter Sandi. In fifteen years it could well be her and her little classmates grown up and fighting the Clans. What a legacy to leave our children. A scheduled war with the worse threat the Inner Sphere has seen since the Usurper.” She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Look at the bright side John. The truce will never last. Long before you and I are ready for a retirement rocker the matter will be picked up again. Either the Clans will decide to not let their archaic honor code get in the way of continuing their waltz through the Inner Sphere or the great Houses will band together and break it themselves by trying to catch the Clans napping. We’ll have a chance to settle the issue one way or another long before Sandi climbs into a BattleMech.” “And I suppose that’s supposed to cheer me up huh? I guess it doesn’t really matter to us Warder types right now anyway. All of our problems have ‘domestic’ written all over them in big letters. We’ve got a snake on our side of the fence to deal with first before we worry about the Cats, Wolves, Bears and what-not waiting outside the front gate.” “You said it pal,” she snorted in agreement as she removed her hand. “You said it.” He was silent for a moment more then, just gazing out at the stars and wondering if there was a particular Clan commander somewhere staring at the stars wondering what Tukayyid meant as he was. Had the Nova Cat commander from Coleson’s Orb been part of the fighting? Or was her unit still sitting on the Orb wondering when or if they got to leave now that the invasion was postponed. “You know,” he started to say as he turned around. But he stopped in surprise as he found Naoko behind him rather than Gracie. “I’m sorry, did I startle you?” she asked. “Hmm…no. It’s just that I was just talking to Gracie a moment ago but when I turned around I found you where she had been standing .” Both Warders, the CO and the Combine Liaison officer, looked around for the tall MechWarrior but Aukland was nowhere to be seen in the crowd. “This is Matt Lammi reporting live from Freedom Aerodrome where you can see behind me the DropShips that arrived less than a half hour ago carrying the Suomi Warders back home. The off- loading of equipment continues as the Warders themselves mix with loved ones in the reception terminal. We expect a press conference to occur in approximately fifteen minutes with Major John Linna and his command staff. We’re informed that several of the newly recruited Warder officers will be on hand at the conference. As you saw live only moments ago, the usual debarkation ceremonies were interrupted by a young woman who confronted Major Linna literally right on the tarmac to personally deliver her rejection of a scholarship funded by the Linna Foundation. Right now all we know is that her name is Marlea Hornen and she’s apparently in her advanced studies of medicine at Suomi University. How she got onto the tarmac and in with the press corps, as well as where she went after allowing Warder security personnel to whisk her away, is still a mystery at this time. Back to you at the studio Leanne.” “Matt, I was particularly impressed with how calmly and rationally Major Linna dealt with the interruption. Has there been any word as to if the Major plans to elaborate on what he told her during the conference?” “It doesn’t look like it Leanne. The Major indicated that he plans to focus on the mission results, update us on the children rescued from Coleson’s Orb, and provide an overview of the unit’s growth. A press release regarding the Hornen incident will be released later today we’re told.” “How about Ms. Hornen herself? On the tri-vid feed it looked to me like she could have refused the security escort if she had wanted to. What was your take out there in the field?” “Well Leanne, it was a tense moment when she first dashed past the press lines. With the recent attempts on Major Linna’s life at Outreach the security forces were quick to react. However the Major was quick to waive off his security people and let the young woman have her say. None of the regular press was close enough to hear, but after that it seemed that the guards gave her a choice of going with them or returning to the press lines. Unfortunately for our viewers, she elected to let herself be escorted away rather than come answer our questions.” “Thanks Matt. With that we’ll replay the short verbal encounter between the college student and the Warder’s commanding officer. We’ll rejoin Matt Lammi later for the live press conference.” John Linna’s steps hastened as he covered the last few meters to the doorway of the reception terminal. It was anticipation rather than the chill winter winds that hurried his pace. Only family and close friends were allowed within the terminal. The reflective glass would grant himself and his people a measure of privacy for their reunions with those that had been left behind. As he pushed through the doors a familiar voice trilled above the tangled background conversations. “Daddy ! Daddy !” The little girl rushed forward from where she had been waiting impatiently with her mother to throw herself into John’s arms. He hugged her close as he stood, lifting and spinning her around as she laughed. “I missed you so much Snow-Sprite. Look at you, you must have grown another ten centimeters while I was gone.” “Oh Dad, you always say that,” she scolded. “Did you bring me anything?” “And you always ask that,” he laughed in retort. Reaching into a pocket with one hand he pulled out a necklace of colored crystals and draped it over her neck. “This was hand made by the people of Hamano. It was a present from them.” “Oh it’s beautiful,” she breathed as she examined it. As she looked up again the other Warder MechWarriors caught her eye over his shoulder. “Who’s the pretty lady Daddy?” John glanced behind him. “Don’t be silly Sandi, you know who Aunt Gracie is.” “Of course I know Auntie Gracie ,” she sighed in the manner of all children forced to put up with dumb observations from their parents. “I meant the lady with the black hair.” “Oh, that’s a MechWarrior from the Draconis Combine who will be visiting with us for a while. Lieutenant Fujiwara.” Sandi wiggled and pushed away slightly to signal her dad know she wanted down. “I’m going to go say hi to the lance.” John let her down and she made a beeline for where Sven was just stepping in behind Gracie to say something. “Hey brother,” came a voice from John’s left. The Major turned and smiled. “Well met Jeff. How have you been?” “Apparently better than you Bro,” replied the younger man in good humor. “At least no one’s tried to blow me up yet. Or chew me out less then three minutes after setting foot on the planet. Nice job dealing with her by the way.” John nodded. “Thanks. I noticed a press pass hanging around her neck but didn’t catch the news ID. I wonder how she got on the Aerodrome?” “Three guesses,” snorted his brother. “And they all start with the wicked witch of Pohjola over there having something to do with it.” The Major glanced over towards his ex-wife. She was watching their daughter talking to his MechWarriors and didn’t notice him looking at her. “She’s not that bad you know.” “Sure, you have to say that. You’re the fool that married her once,” Jeff smiled. “Oh yeah, this is yours,” he finished more soberly. John accepted the small wooden case carefully. The faint jingle of metal sounded from within as he slipped it into his own pocket. “Thanks. You don’t have to take care of that you know. I could have one of my people from the base do it.” “Hey, I may not be a Warder but I am a Linna. Besides, I know how important it is to you so it’s important to me too. John smiled warmly at his sibling. “It’s good to know I always have someone in my corner for me. Thanks Jeff.” “Of course I’m in your corner,” deflected Jeff. “That way you get to go out into the ring and take the punches.” The Major snorted a quick laugh. Jeff had always maintained that he was born a lover while older brother John had been born a fighter. John wasn’t sure he could disagree with the assessment. First Lieutenant Gracie Aukland had entered the terminal and stepped off to one side so that others could pass her to walk deeper within. Her brother lived half a world away with his family and wouldn’t be here although she’d exchanged messages with him by ship’s radio when the DropShip had been about eighteen hours out. Seated off in one of the less crowded areas she could see her father. He was getting on in years now, probably shouldn’t even be here if the scowl on his attendant’s face meant anything. But here he was to meet his daughter as always. He’d been a mechanic-mate with the planetary defense forces for thirty five years and had been proud as anything when she’d graduated with an officer’s commission. Though long retired he was a stickler for what he considered to be the military way to do things. Should she go straight to him now he would scold her for not seeing to her responsibilities before worrying about personal business. Gracie would make sure the other Warders were all squared away and taken care of before approaching her father. The rest of her lance, plus Cadet Nelson and Lieutenant Dhafar, had all gravitated off to one side to be out of the way. As all of them were newcomers to Sampsa, none of them had people waiting for them. Gracie stepped over to join them. She hadn’t managed to say anything before a green and yellow self propelled projectile launched itself at her. Gracie had caught the movement from the corner of her eye in time to turn and crouch allowing an easier catch as Sandi flung herself at the tall MechWarrior. “Auntie Gracie!” Gracie hugged John’s daughter with true affection. “Hey Tiger. Good to see you too. How have you been?” “Fine,” purred Sandi. She leaned in to whisper in Gracie’s ear. “Did you bring anything for me?” “Indeed I did little one. I’m having Sparky sneak it to your driver Bently though. It’s something your mother probably wouldn’t like.” “Then I know I’ll like it,” replied the little girl gleefully. Thanks Auntie.” Then she was off towards her next target. “Uncle Lawman!” As ‘uncles’ Sven and Frank greeted her Sandi realized that someone was missing. Her face fell as she looked around one last time to make sure before asking The Question. Sven realized who she was looking for and what she was probably thinking. “Don’t worry Sandi. Vilho got hurt but he’ll be all right. He came home early is all. That’s why he’s not here now.” She smiled in relief. “Okay uncle Lawman.” After a big hug she shot off towards Lieutenant Parks and jumped into his arms. “Alpha Strike!” He caught her with a big laugh. “Ahhh, ya got me honey. Core breach in my power plant. Ejecting, Ejecting !” With the second ‘ejecting’ call he tossed her upwards then caught her as she fell back to him. Naoko Fujiwara watched the unfolding scene with equal parts amusement and bewilderment. Her own society was much more stoic and subdued, especially in public. The press reception of Outreach had been a surprise to her, but that a mercenary unit was welcomed with such interest here as well was somehow even more surprising. The original Warders had expected it obviously. The officers had spent a good number of hours in meetings during the DropShip’s deceleration burn towards Sampsa going over press relations and the conference that would be held shortly after touch down. The young woman that had appeared from the press line as they disembarked had been a total surprise, obviously as much to John and the others on the landing field as to herself. Naoko had been too far back to clearly hear the short exchange but assumed it would be available from the local news media easily enough later on. The Combine officer had caught just enough to know the intruder was spouting an anti-war rhetoric but whatever the Major had said seemed to have taking the fire out of her tirade. Yet both the press attention and John’s strange confrontation had been pushed from Naoko’s mind once she had stepped from the bitter cold into the warm terminal building. John had spoken of both his daughter and his ex-wife- but somehow actually seeing them in the flesh was jolting. His daughter was older than she had expected. Either John had become a father at a very young age or he was older than he looked. The girl, Sandi she reminded herself, carried her mother’s beauty and her father’s lithe build and deep, intelligent eyes. And the little girl was obviously very familiar with the Warder MechWarriors. A smile came unbidden to Naoko’s lips as she pictured a Combine CO’s child referring to the subordinate officers as ‘uncle’ or ‘auntie’. It just wouldn’t happen. Then Naoko’s eyes happened to sweep back over the ex-wife and her smile died. It was plain that the woman looked upon John with disdain as Sandi played with the MechWarriors. Then Lydia turned her eyes toward the MechWarrior group itself. With a start the Combine officer read pure poison on the other woman’s face. At first she thought it was directed at her, then she realized that Lieutenant Aukland was the target of the woman’s ire. Then that penetrating gaze swept onto Naoko and seemed to scan her for any flaws before becoming contemplative, then dismissive. Suddenly, as if a magic wand had been waved, Lydia’s face smoothed into a beautiful, caring, winning smile. Naoko realized that the little girl was returning toward John now, facing her mother and potentially looking at her. The woman’s ability to suddenly change faces that quickly and totally was somehow very disconcerting. A voice to her left startled Naoko. “Yeah, she can turn on the charm in an instant. It’s downright spooky,” Gracie was saying to her quietly. The Combine officer was unsure what to say. She’d only recently become to suspect that there might have once been something more than friendship between her new lance leader and John. Certainly the normally gregarious First Lieutenant had been more subdued in her interactions with Naoko since John had started spending much of his limited free time with the new liaison officer. “She’s very stunning,” Naoko finally replied. “Indeed she is. Best face and body money can buy,” nodded Gracie. “And both her face and her body hate my guts something fierce. She’s borderline psychotic Naoko. If you do have to deal with her, do so very carefully.” Naoko merely nodded as Gracie drifted over to speak with Basem Dhafar and the others. She sensed more than saw Sven’s large frame slide close to her. “Gracie’s opinion of Lydia may be a bit extreme. John’s ex-wife takes good care of Sandi, does charity work, treats her staff well, is kind to children and small animals and so forth. But Lydia Touberg certainly does seem to have a blind spot of irrationality where the Major or Gracie is concerned. But Gracie is probably right on one count. If you do cross paths with Lydia be on your guard. Her tongue is sharp and her wit barbed.” Naoko shrugged. “I believe the old saying ends ‘but words can never hurt me’.” A rueful grin creased the big man’s face as he gave her shoulder a gentle, friendly squeeze. “That’s what people always claim. But I’ve seen plenty of evidence to the contrary. Here comes John with his brother and daughter to make introductions. I’ll see you at the conference. I see some of my somewhat large family brood looming over that-a-way." As he moved easily through the crowd she spotted what must be Sven’s relatives. They all shared a basic facial resemblance and towered over most the other visitors. And they were all very, very blond. You didn’t see much of that on her home world or on Hamano. Where she came from blond children were considered good luck. Here, the hair color seemed the norm. John’s brother was something of a surprise as well. While their shared bloodline was obvious in their faces, Jeffrey Linna was somewhat short with broad shoulders and a husky build. John was much taller and had more of a lanky frame. From behind her the Solaris woman said something that Naoko missed. “Please excuse me, I didn’t catch what you said to me.” Keena looked at Naoko in mild surprise. “I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud,” admitted the taller woman. “I said that I had forgotten what it was like to be around people that have a true sense of home and family.” The Combine officer smiled and nodded politely but was thinking about how lacking Keena’s life must have been. Although the people of Suomi expressed themselves more directly than she was used to, Naoko had been raised in a culture that had always had a strong sense of home and family. It was hard for her to imagine someone who had not been. Then the Major was before her with his family. “Jeff, Sandi; may I present Naoko Fujiwara, an officer of the Draconis Combine that will be with us as an information sharing liaison for a while. Second Lieutenant Fujiwara, my brother Jeffrey Linna and my daughter Sandi Linna-Touberg.” Naoko was surprised when both bowed in traditional Combine fashion and Jeffrey greeted her in very good Japanese. He just grinned when she remarked upon his facility with her language. “While my big brother spent his youth learning better ways to blow things up - or keep them from getting shot up as the case may be - I had the time for more refined studies such as the arts and languages. However, press me very far in a conversation and you’ll soon discover my Japanese is very limited. In an emergency however, I can order drinks and find the bathroom in nine different languages.” The younger Linna’s good humor was infectious. Naomi found herself grinning as well. “An impressive skill to have. I shall remember your abilities,” she nodded sagely. “All right, no corrupting the Combine officer before she’s even suffered through her first Suomi press conference,” smiled John. “Come along and meet the others.” Naoko smiled to herself as John made introductions with MechWarrior Misty Florens next. Yes, this was definitely far different from her native military experiences. But she thought she could easily learn to adjust. Across the crowded terminal Lydia Touberg watched as her daughter frolicked in the attention of her ex husbands toy warriors. It appeared that her wayward ex had pulled yet another group of people under his influence to play soldier with him. She didn’t know what it would take, but Lydia swore to herself that their daughter would not follow the same path. Sandi already displayed far too much interest in and knowledge of military subjects than was healthy for a nine year old girl. Lydia came from old money herself and had remarried into a politically powerful family, but John Linna was both too popular and too wealthy to be easily pushed out of their daughter’s life. Since he hadn’t had the good grace to get himself killed on one of his wild rumor chases seeking his sister; different means would need to be employed. It wasn’t even a matter of repaying his betrayal - it was a matter of what was best for Sandi. Lydia thought she’d found one of those means when the mysterious Mr. Ormed had approached her about damaging John’s influence and status on behalf of an unnamed investment consortium. But if that pathetic attempt to embarrass him with that daft college girl she’d helped get onto the Aerodrome was the best they could muster then she was through with them. She’d loved and hated John, desired him and dreaded him, manipulated him and been out maneuvered by him; but she had never underestimated John Linna. Mr. Ormed and his backers had much to learn if they thought they were going to show up in Suomi and take down the Linna dynasty with stupid parlor tricks. And in a deep, almost hidden place within her she took a measure of pride in that. It would take a Sampsa native to truly defeat a native Sampsan. Outsiders simply weren’t up to the task. Hauptman Schmidt surveyed the wall far ahead from him via powerful optics that linked to his cockpit displays. The BattleMech he piloted stood motionless within the forest’s edge, idling on low power as the engagement clock ticked down to the appointed hour. Sunrise had been at oh-six-twenty-three local. It was now oh-six-forty-seven. At exactly oh-seven hundred the attack would begin. If their mission was simply to dash in and destroy Warder war machines the attack would have already been concluded. The assault would have been waged in the waning hours of the morning when the defenders would have been mostly asleep. But this was more than a smash and run. This attack was several things to his Blitzkrieg Company. It was payback. It was a warning not to interfere again. A message that no one was beyond retaliation and devastation. Put most starkly, it was a mission to find and kill Major John Linna and as many of his senior officers as possible before withdrawing. Thus the need for decent daylight in spite of the extra risks of such an assault. His warriors might need to make visual ID on people pounding feet across the base. A great deal of time, effort, and money had gone into this attack. Bribes were required to get them smuggled on planet, hours had been spent planning an approach that would go undetected, and twenty seven sim assaults had been slogged through on the way to this moment. As befit his rank as company commander, Goering had the largest ‘Mech of the force. It was a sleek, sinister looking machine designated the Exterminator by it’s designers. The 65 ton hunter was designed for a dangerous purpose - to get behind enemy forces, seek out command ‘Mechs and kill them. It was a role the Hauptmann looked forward to fulfilling. Built for stealth, the machine was difficult to track with most sensors. So far there was no indication from the base that anyone was aware of the twelve intruders lurking in the woods. Scmidt frowned slightly as his thoughts strayed through his current company. They had been outfitted in BattleMechs far lighter in mass than he would have preferred for assaulting the Warders in their lair. Transport restrictions and a need to employ only machines with a cruise speed of better than 60 kph had limited their options from the available stable. His second in command, First Lieutenant Vonbruen, piloted the next heaviest ‘Mech. - a 60 ton Lancelot. After that no Blitzkrieg pilot had anything heavier than 50 tons in either the Striker or Troll lances. At least the scout lance, Leopard, was well equipped. Not just one but two of the rare Raven electronic counter-measure BattleMechs plus two agile Spiders combined to create a formidable scout and quick strike force. The Hauptman knew that the battle would be carried by momentum and relentless attacking. Just the type of combat Schmidt had always advocated to his Lyran commanders before they finally had enough of his supposed ‘attitude’ and cashiered him out of uniform. But Goering had gone on to prove what a few brave men following a daring leader could accomplish. It was a shame he was not at liberty to send his old masters a chronicle of his successes. But a number of people on Sampsa were about to learn firsthand what Lightning War was all about. He checked the timer again. It was almost H hour. “This is Striker One. Leopards One and Two, prepare for your attack run on my mark. All other MechWarriors standby to engage your first designated targets. All units warm your reactors to combat level.” A serious of warbles came back as replies. The pitch told him which lance while the speed of the trill indicated a specific element of a given lance. Each pilot need merely push a button to respond in the affirmative to any command given them. The Hauptmann hated extra comm traffic as a sign of sloppy skills. His men did not use silly battle names either. His lance was simply Strikers One through Four. Troll and Leopard lances were designated the same way. Moments later a cloud of birds burst from the treetops in startled flight as the twelve BattleMechs of Blitzkrieg Company burst out from cover. From this point forward success would be a matter of speed, reaction times, and applied force. As planned, the two Ravens veered off towards the airfield - quaintly called an ‘aerodrome’ by the locals - to deal with the helicopters. As the two ECM equipped ‘Mechs would be required to hide the company’s retreat, they would not be risked on the compound attack. To use ten medium and light BattleMechs to attack a fortified compound containing at least twice their number of units would be counted a foolish thing by most military planners. Yet whatever else he might be, the Hauptmann was not a fool. The inside information purchased from a base worker would more than even the odds in his favor. Schmidt knew that the proximity of the Warder base to the city of Suomi had precluded the use of landmines around the perimeter. ‘Mech traps had been allowed - but the Hauptman had them mapped and could easily avoid them on his way to the “back door”. The base was surrounded by reinforced ferrocrete walls of some twenty meters height. There was only one gateway in. Naturally, it was heavily defended with various turret mounted weapons. But the base designers had realized the dangers of a prolonged siege and had left one section of the ‘rear’ wall hollowed out. This part could be blasted to create what was once called a sally port in ancient castles; a place from which the defenders could sally out to attack those besieging the front gate. The Hauptmann would be using this backdoor to gain entrance. Later, after he had shot up the base, he would use it for it’s intended purpose - an exit. Only three wall mounted turrets guarded this weak spot, each mounting an old model class 5 autocannon and older make large laser. It was enough firepower to fend off a vehicle lance or maybe a ‘Mech or two but not enough firepower to deter a strong, determined foe. His attacking ‘Mechs fired their long range weapons as planned, splitting their fire between the three turrets. The base defenders were slow in activating the defense grid, allowing the advancing machines to fire first. The large laser of the center turret suffered a fatal hit before it was ever fired. As the Blitzkrieg ‘Mechs recycled and recharged, the base weapons finally came on line. Their fire was erratic and only scored two hits, chipping armor from the Wolftrap and one of the Centurions. The light weight Spiders surged forward after the volley, seeking to close with the wall while the turrets reset for their next shots. Providing cover fire from 280 meters back, First Lieutenant Vonbruen stopped his Lancelot and took careful aim before unleashing his large lasers and particle projectile cannon. His heat levels would force him to act minimally for the next ten to twenty seconds but his main work was done. The center turret disappeared in a blue-silver cloud of vaporized metal and man made lightning. “Forward, ever forward,” Goering urged his command as he suited action to words. Engaging his jump pedals he soared his Exterminator forward on billowing plumes of burning plasma towards the left corner tower. This allowed him a brief glimpse over the wall where he spotted an armored vehicle making it’s way toward the rear of the base. Like a swarm of angry hornets a cloud of autocannon fire slashed through the air towards him but the shells arced harmlessly past. Then he was down below the wall once again. Raising both arms he blasted medium laser fire into the turret from mid-range, burning off huge chunks of armor. Corporal Mitchell’s Centurion added a peppering of LB 10X cannon fire and a solid hit of Artemis guided LRMs to finish off the turret as the two Spiders paused at the foot of the wall. One suffered a laser hit but remained undeterred as both lit their jets and sailed over the wall to engage the defenders from within. As soon as the remaining turret was put out of commission the Hauptmann had all BattleMechs still outside the base concentrate their fire on the weakened wall section. Two volleys later they had a hole big enough to walk two Mech’s through. The hole did not sit empty long. As the Spiders exchanged fire with a light tank, the two Centurions of Troll lance picked their way through the rubble and brought their firepower to bare against the out-gunned tank. Before the next Blitzkrieg ‘Mechs were through the breach the Warder tank was a burning wreck. An armored car made the mistake of buzzing out from between two buildings to get an accurate count of the attackers and was instantly turned to slag by multiple laser hits. Schmidt entered through the wall with a sly smile. Many of his raids had been against poorly trained and poorly equipped targets. But these Warders were both well skilled and well armed. And his plan placed them napping fat and happy on their home world, never dreaming that an enemy would be able to strike them without days of warning an unknown DropShip burning into the system would normally create. This was a moment to be savored. Unfortunately, continued success required continued activity. Savoring would have to wait. The Hauptmann triggered the company wide frequency. “Strikers, advance on the central hangar. Trolls One and Two, walk the north wall. Three and Four the South. Leopards Three and Four, keep at the turrets. Leopard One, what is your status?” Leutnant Wille Boers paused his firing from the Raven. “Scopes are clear of enemy activity Sir. We penetrated the fence around the airfield and are currently destroying the VTOLs on the ground. There has been no sign of the crews and only light defensive action in the form of small arms fire. So far we’ve been ignoring them to concentrate on the VTOLs.” “Very well, Leutnant. Once you have disabled the VTOLs take up an overwatch position North East of the airfield and monitor for incoming forces. The main tank lances of the Warders are still unaccounted for by our agent but they are not believed to be within the base.” Schmidt started his BattleMech towards the main hanger without fear of the side wall weapons. Their informant had been correct; the wall mounted turrets had not been designed to allow firing into the base. He could see the two Spiders working together to melt the gun stations from behind. Privates Jett and Fless were his two newest recruits but Goering already had a preference for them over some of his old hands- like most of Troll lance. While every MechWarrior of his company was a capable pilot and gunner, Goering privately felt that only half of them would have been able to cut it in a decent House unit. Still, what they lacked in military decorum or tactical ability they made up for with sheer ferocity when attacking. That killer instinct was what really mattered most to the Hauptman. Goering had always felt that the human spirit was as important in battle as the equipment used. “Contact emerging from the main hangar,” private Riker suddenly announced on the common line. Two Warder BattleMechs emerged from the half closed sliding doors of the main hangar, each spitting coherent light at the attackers. Troll One, First Leutnant Vonbruen, nearly cackled with glee. He’d been worried that the Warders wouldn’t get anything operational in time to face his lance in combat. These two must have been the rapid response units, their reactors left on a low powered warming mode allowing them to be brought on-line in only a few minutes. “Mitchell, watch my six. Let’s get them before the Strikers have all the fun.” “As ordered,” agreed Gary from Troll Two, one of the Centurions. Personally he’d be fine letting the Strikers take the heat. The point was to get paid for taking as little risk as possible. But the First Leut wasn’t very big on letting anyone else score action that Vonbruen could have for himself. With his humanoid Centurian clanking after the sleeker looking Lancelot, Corporal Mitchell got a good view of the engagement as a Vulcan and Bushwacker jinked towards them while firing at the ‘Mechs of Striker lance. The Vulcan pilot was terrible, splashing laser fire all over the walls. But the Bushwacker had a hot hand in the cockpit. Striker Lance’s Clint had it’s right arm sheared away by the 55 ton Bushwacker’s potent large laser and LBX autocannon. That robbed the Clint of most of it’s effective firepower. Striker lance currently fielded two Vulcans of it’s own, and both combined fire on their brother design. The Warder Vulcan faltered then skidded on the icy ferrocrete surface and went down in a crash. “Finish him,” ordered Vonbruen as he lined up his large lasers on the larger Warder ‘Mech. The whine and heavy zap of paired lasers filled the Lancelot’s cockpit as green death reached out hungrily for the Bushwacker. Huge furrows were bored in the Warder’s front. Apparently the double hit got the pilot’s attention as the squat BattleMech’s torso swung about to bring it’s weapons to bear on the Lancelot. Five long range missiles flared to life and headed for his lance-leader but Mitchell didn’t have the time to watch the results. The smaller Warder ‘Mech was struggling to it’s feet. Gary wasn’t overly fond of the Centurion design. He preferred something with solid close range punch and situations such as this were exactly why. He was too close for effective use of his LRM system, leaving him the dangerous LB-10X autocannon but otherwise only a single medium laser for close-in work. He fired both, raking cluster ammunition across the Vulcan and melting off some leg armor with the medium laser. It wasn’t enough to keep the Warder pilot down. Shaking off two extra hits it took from the Strikers, the Vulcan started to maneuver again and fired on him. Green beams created silver clouds of armor vapor as laser fire burned across Gary’s side armor. Damage was minimal however. If intel was correct that Jason kid would be in the Vulcan. It seemed that he’d improved a great deal since Gary had seen him last. But not enough. Jason had let himself be cut off from the supporting fire of his wingman in the Bushwacker. Mitchell closed in to melee range while forcing the youngster to turn his back towards the three ‘Mechs of Striker Lance. Firing his torso mounted laser before launching a kick, Mitchell was rewarded with the colorful flash that announced a destroyed laser capacitor. His shot had penetrated the tattered Vulcan to destroy it’s most powerful weapon system, the large pulse laser. Belatedly Jason tried to use his jump jets to lift himself out of danger but Gary landed a crushing kick that collapsed the Vulcan’s left knee. It fell to the ground and skidded several meters to one side as the torso mounted jets pushed at it’s mass then went quiet. It seemed that the pilot had been shaken up too much to act as the machine lay unmoving on it’s side. Gary hoped the kid was unconscious. He’d somewhat liked the young spacer and wouldn’t want Jason to sit helplessly watching his impending demise. Vulcans had a globe-like cockpit section that jutted forward from between the shoulder blades. It made a perfect target for a soccer style kick that crushed the control area and actually ripped the ball section free from body. Looking up to check the Bushwacker’s status Gary was amazed to see the Warder machine still on it’s feet. Five Blitzkrieg ‘Mechs were now firing at it, most of them scoring at least minimal hits. Battered and pushed by the pounding, it continued to bring accurate fire down upon Gary’s lance leader with it’s one functional weapon - the large laser. With a bit of pleasure Gary noted that Vonbruen’s Lancelot looked like it had been worked over pretty good. The battle was a forgone conclusion but no one had told the Warder MechWarrior. Gary almost found himself rooting for the pilot as the Suomi warrior tried to back into the hanger and use the doorway for partial cover. The Bushwacker was limping badly and pouring smoke and coolant fluid from multiple armor breaches. Vonbruen’s particle projector cannon finally landed a telling blow however, and the cockpit of the Warder defender was burned away by the bolt of blue lightning. Fittingly, the defiant machine refused to fall. Pilotless and effectively dead it sagged forward but stayed balanced on it’s feet. Mitchell found himself mildly annoyed as Gonzalez, the Clint pilot that had been savaged earlier by the Bushwacker, shoved it over when he entered the hanger to join the other Strikers in shooting up any unfortunate BattleMech parked inside. It was all a real pity actually. Capturing updated and battle ready ‘Mechs was a raider’s top possible prize. But in this attack they had no way to take the enemy machines away with them. Thus the great war beasts would have to die in their docking cradles. At least he wouldn’t have to do it himself. Being heavily ammo dependent, his assigned duty was overwatch in case some Warders arrived to dispute the treatment of their garaged BattleMechs. A sparkling flash caught his attention down to his right and he realized that some fool woman was firing a submachine gun at his Centurion. Pretty stupid thing to do really. Had she just run for it along the hangar’s edge he probably wouldn’t have noticed her. He took a quick glance around to make sure that no one appeared to be watching him then laid the autocannon’s targeting circle over the small figure below. His targeting systems weren’t designed to actually lock onto a single person but he only had to come close. With an amused grin he touched the trigger and filled the area she occupied with a burst of LB-10X scatter shot munitions. There was a burst of chunky red mist then all that was left were divots in the ground and holes in the hangar wall. “I saw dat,” accused a familiar voice. “Dey vill have to strain the remains for ein identity, ya?” Corporal Mitchell smiled in relief. It was only his buddy Gunther. The Hauptmann or some of his spit-and-polish warrior types would have reamed his butt for wasting autocannon rounds on a single ground target like that. “What can I say Gunther? She was annoying me.” Idly he wondered who he’d just killed. The only guilt he felt was for not trying to identify her before blasting her. It wasn’t his fault the idiot had attacked a BattleMech on foot. Hauptmann Schmidt walked his Exterminator into the hanger to check on his men’s handiwork. The smoke was so thick he had to switch on his thermal sighting system. As the reactors were cold on the Warder ‘Mechs he had a hard time identifying them but after several minutes his survey was complete. Based on their latest intel, two were missing. One was the most dangerous - Lieutenant Aukland’s Awesome. The other was the mount of their primary target - the Camelot belonging to Major John Linna. Whether the target would be on base and assailable had always been the operation’s biggest problem. They had to move within the time window allowed by their agents’ work. If Linna didn’t show up in his ‘Mech the Blitzkrieg pilots certainly didn’t have the time or inclination to climb out of theirs and go hunting through the buildings looking for him. It looked like the Chairman’s backup plan of ground agents would have to finish the job. It was a shame really. Goering had been looking forward to an encounter with Linna and his high tech command ‘Mech against the equally high tech Exterminator. This attack was basically over but it was best to be thorough. “Attention- All Trolls, advance to visual range of the General’s House.” Though Linna claimed only the rank of Major, the CO’s personal quarters on the base had been built by a predessor ranked a General. Regardless of rank, the Warder commanding officer used the ‘General’s House’. “Maintain visual contact between yourselves and a line abreast formation,” continued Goering. “Leopards Three and Four, scoot along the inside of the wall and make sure nothing’s hiding behind the central admin building. Leopard One, what do you have out there?” “Leopard One Sir. Nothing definite but I’ve got intermittent fuzz at extreme sensor range that could be vehicles forming up to the North.” “Understood Leopard One,” noted Goering. “Advise me immediately if they move into sensor range. Be prepared to fall back on my command. We’re almost done here.” The next few minutes passed in relative quiet within the Exterminator’s cockpit as Troll lance moved up to check out the front area of the base. Finally Leutnant Vonbruen reported in. “We’ve sighted the CO’s residence Sir. No sign of activity. There’s been some ground fire from small arms but none of it massed heavily enough to be a threat. Your orders Hauptmann?” “Using energy weapons only torch the house and fall back to the rear wall. Shoot up anything that grabs your attention but don’t waste ammo.” “Confirmed Sir,” began Vonbruen. Then suddenly the panicky voice of Private Fless cut onto the circuit. “Incoming fire, I’m hit, I’m hit. Where the hell’s it coming from?” “Behind you,” shouted his wingman Jett into the line. “It’s the Camelot. Oh good God, Nooo! Ejecting, ejecting!” The thrill of the hunt quickened Hauptmann Schmidt’s pulse as he ordered the Trolls and Strikers forward. He had always known that Linna would be too much the warrior to let his home base be attacked without responding, no matter how poor the odds. Goering would have reacted the same. There was only a basic data feed from the Spiders to his Mech but combined with his sensors it was enough to tell the story. Leopard Three, Jett’s ‘Mech, was no longer sending data or projecting any electromagnetic signature at all. A new target, tagged an AWS-?? for his battle computer couldn’t identify the exact version of ‘Mech, had appeared. The Exterminator’s sophisticated computer algorithms had decided the new contact was definitely an Awesome of some type from the combined electromagnetic readings, which meant that the skilled Lieutenant Aukland was winging her commander. The agile but lightly armored Spider had fallen victim to a surprise power-up from the heavily armed 80 tonner. That wasn’t the way things should be progressing but it was a minor loss. Linna’s Camelot was not on his sensors, but as the command ‘Mech was built with ECM that was to be expected. While the Exterminator didn’t mount active electronic counter measures, it was designed to present as small a sensor profile as possible. By properly using the buildings Goering should be able to get close before Linna picked him up. And judging by the direction Leopard Two was running, the Hauptmann’s quarry had to be located someplace ahead and to the left. “Troll Lance, pair off and go after her from each side of that building. Strikers, hold by those parked cars and watch the Troll’s backs. Linna will try to sneak in behind to support the Awesome.” Ordinarily Schmidt had a low opinion of female MechWarriors. Except maybe Clan ones - but from what he understood of their eugenics program Clanners were basically asexual anyway. The outer form, male or female, was of little consequence. But Lieutenant Aukland, assuming that was her in the Awesome, was cut of a different cloth than most female warriors. He’d carefully studied all of the Warder files and Aukland had impressed him not only with her academy ranking and Outreach sims scores but she had made at least one kill in every known engagement she had ever been in. And today she’d done it yet again. Proving his assessment of her skills correct, her sensor return showed she had immediately realized the danger she was in of being hit from two sides by the smaller, faster machines. She coaxed her monster into a lumbering run that would result in one exchange with Trolls One and Two before she slipped around the central admin complex to relative safety. Goering put Aukland from his mind however. He had seven BattleMechs arrayed to chase her down. She might get one or two more but she was as good as dead. The main target had to be skulking around ahead of him somewhere. Once they got close enough the Warder ‘Mech would show on his scanners ECM or not. And once they were that close then it would be too late for the Warder Major to save himself. The Hauptmann’s plan was to hit Linna from behind while the Major was trying to hit the Trolls or Strikers from behind. Some might call that using his own people as bait but Goering called it team work. Comm traffic told him that Vonbruen’s Lancelot was getting mauled but the Awesome was suffering sustained hits from the Blitzkrieg machines. But the Haauptmann’s attention was on guessing where Linna would be. Getting in his mind, thinking like he was in the prototype Camelot. And then his battle computer suddenly registered the Camelot on his sensor display just before the gleaming machine stepped from behind a building, intent on using it’s extended range particle projection cannon to melt some more back armor from one of three potential Blitzkrieg targets. Goering rushed in, intending to get into short range for his medium lasers. He held off on the LRM system, not wanting to alert his prey. But some sense - either honed human or advanced electronic - warned Linna of the approaching Exterminator and the Warder ‘Mech abandoned it’s first target to turn and face the charging foe. Looking for all the world like two giants dressed in futuristic armor, the pair of very human looking BattleMechs exchanged laserfire. Goering’s shafts of green destruction bubbled away armor across the front and right arm of Linna’s mount while the Warder’s three beams tore at a left leg and the lower central torso. The Hauptmann added a skittering side-step on instinct that almost made his ‘Mech skid on the icy ferrocrete but proved worth the risk when the cobalt crash of terror from John’s erPPC flashed by to the side. The Warder ‘Mech then took to the sky, using it’s jump ability to hop onto the low flat roof of the nearby machine shop. But if the Suomi Major sought the advantage of high ground he was due for disappointment. The Exterminator rose on it’s own jets, seeking to close up the range again. The Hauptmann enjoyed melee combat from a BattleMech’s cockpit and was well practiced in the art. The files suggested that the Major had never engaged in direct melee during an actual fight. With a 10 ton weight advantage for his ‘Mech, Goering figured the Camelot wouldn’t last long if Linna was fool enough to let him get in close. Lasers were exchanged between the two COs once again. A yellow light flicked on upon a side panel as the Exterminator took yet another hit center front. Three deep scars had burned away much of the protection. The other hits were to limbs, rather poor grouping on those by the Warder pilot and good news for the Hauptman. Goering had cheated his own fire to the right side of his target, risking a clean miss but being rewarded with a devastating strike that shredded the right shoulder and arm. Goering thought the arm was hanging funny, perhaps indicating an actuator hit. Blue sparkles started to form within the large opening of the erPPC barrel and there really wasn’t anyplace for Goering to go while on the roof. Cursing the designers that opted to mount a 10 tube long range missile system rather than more weapons suited to close combat he hunkered down to ride out the incoming blast. A dazzling display of cobalt energy swirled out from the Warder ‘Mech in all directions. Goering grinned evilly as he realized that the fearsome particle cannon must have suffered damage and lost it’s focusing chamber. With any luck the enemy ‘Mech had suffered disabling damage from internal feedback after the aborted firing. As the Camelot stood by the roof’s edge with smoke trailing from it’s right shoulder Goering rushed it. He’d plant two fists into it and maybe even force it backwards off the roof. The Exterminator was only a few steps from it’s target when the Warder ‘Mech suddenly lurched to life and jumped up in a roar of jets. The Hauptman cursed himself as a fool for charging in too quickly - his enemy was jumping over his head and would likely twist mid-jump to come down facing his rear with all weapons firing. Goering chopped the throttle and slammed the left directional pedal down in an effort to bring the 65 ton machine around as quickly as possible. He was half turned when his medium lasers recycled. As they had fired at roughly the same moment earlier, that meant Linna would be ready to fire now as well. The difference being that Linna was probably facing him while he was still turning. But Goering completed his 180 without being shot at. The puzzle was quickly answered once he took a good look at the Warder BattleMech. It must have touched down on a weak spot as one leg was sunk to it’s knee in the roof. Linna was struggling to get the machine unstuck but luck wasn’t cooperating with him today. Hauptmann Schmidt centered his crosshairs on the immobile Command ‘Mech but took a quick moment to check his team’s status. “The First Leutnant is down,” reported Corporal Mitchell. “We’ve managed to sorta corner the Awesome but no one wants to be the first to step into her line of fire.” “Hold where you are Troll Two, I have a feeling she’s about to come to you. Leopards One and Two, fall back to the forest’s edge. We’re almost done here and we’ll need your cover. Strikers Three and Four, police up our missing pilots.” Goering wished he could use an open comm to exchange final words with the Major. But mission security wouldn’t allow it. Too much risk others might pick it up or Linna’s ‘Mech might automatically send any transmissions received to that Bifrost control rig they liked to play with. At least, Goering thought at Linna, you get to die in the cockpit like a MechWarrior rather than be cut down by some common thug assassin. In the meantime Schmidt was moved to where the lasers of his foe, all torso mounted, could not be brought to bare on him. The Exterminator’s four medium lasers vaporized ferro-fibrous armor along the Camelot’s flank. After a brief pause to recycle they did so again, this time reaching inside to burn through myomer fiber bundles and internal structure. Yellow-green coolant spewed from the open wounds as the white smoke of electrical fires wafted from the stricken ‘Mech. As the lasers burned away at the trapped machine yet a third time it arched up and fired something out through the goldish mesh of it’s ‘faceplate’. “Track that pod!” shouted Goering immediately. Gunther surprised everyone, including himself, when he snapped off an LBX burst at the hurtling escape mechanism that actually hit it. The sub munitions tore away several of the solid rocket motors and the pod started a diving corkscrew downward until it hit and skipped across the frozen ground leaving a large divot in the ferrocrete before flattening itself against a wall. The Awesome churned forth like an avenging angle, shrugging off hits as it maneuvered to hit Troll Three with everything it had. Smashed and battered under a torrent of PPC and laser energy Gunther’s Centurion crashed to the ground a smoldering heap. While the huge Warder war machine might be capable of defying it’s foes, it seemed that it wasn’t capable of defying the laws of thermo-dynamics. The excessive use of the Awesome’s complete arsenal had finally overcome the machine’s ability to shed the heat and the shoulders slumped forward as the power core shut itself down to retain it’s magnetic containment field and avoid exploding. Gary Mitchell started to move in for an unobstructed shot to the cockpit when his leader unexpected called him off. ”Say again Striker One,” queried Gary in confusion. “I said there are some fates worse than death Corporal. Knee-cap her and let’s get out of here before they hit us with a pack of battle tanks. “ “Wilco Sir,” Gary ground out. He was planning on killing her anyway when Gunther came on the comms to report that he thought his Centurion could get up and walk but that it was no longer watertight. Gary realized he had no need for revenge as his buddy Gunther was shaken but fine. “You’re a lucky girl,” he said to himself as he kicked out the bigger ‘Mech’s knee. “After a fashion anyway.” After the Awesome fell he pumped two cannon blasts into the leg to make sure it was truly legged. Then being careful to stay out of it’s firing arcs on the off chance it suddenly came back on line he left the stricken ‘Mech laid out on the frozen ground and followed the remainder of his Company out the hole in the wall. He’d piloted one of the Flashmans against the Warders on Hamano and he didn’t care what the Hauptmann thought - without total surprise like they had just been given the Blitzkrieg didn’t have the pilots or machines to take on the Warders in a straight up fight. But they’d soon be trying for real so Gary had better pray for total surprise. “That’s it for this simulation,” announced the Hauptmann. With the sim over he switched to an instructional tone. “Private Jett, you need to up your situational awareness. You practically backed right into a parked Awesome before noticing it. That was it for our practice sims gentlemen. We’ll be making the final jump soon and riding the DropShip in to Sampsa. They’ll be a papers check just before detachment from the JumpShip so make sure your alternate IDs are ready and you’ve memorized your new name. That is all, dismissed.” Captain Woods looked up from his monitor at the light rapping on his office door. He hadn’t been startled for his visitor had been announced by security a number of minutes ago. But Osmo spent a brief moment looking at the door anyway. He was pretty sure that an answer he expected but didn’t want to hear was about to be delivered to him. “Enter,” he invited after that moment had passed. Janet Skorrel opened the door just enough to slip through it and closed it softly behind her. The security analyst carried two sealed folders, one of which was much thicker than the other. She was the civilian corporate security employee that Osmo Woods worked most closely with here in Suomi. She was a middleaged-woman of nondescript looks that one would easily pass over without really noticing in a crowd. It was a trait that had served her well. But her sharp mind and keen instincts for security issues, especially those related to communications use and behavior patterns, had served her even better. Not normally talkative in the best of times, she was quick and to the point on this day of grieving and bad news. The grieving would come with the memorial service Major Linna would be starting in less than two hours. The bad news she held in her hand and would be delivering on the spot. Although she knew that Osmo had already suspected what she had found or he wouldn’t have asked her to run the analysis. “It’s one of your civilian contractor technicians. Long timer; almost fourteen years,” she announced without preamble Osmo winced despite the fact he was expecting news of this sort. They’d had many weeks wandering around space to carefully evaluate recent events and it had become obvious that the Warders had to have a spy someplace. He had learned from Jason that the Black Bolt mercenaries had been expecting and training specifically for the Warders before the Warders had even touched down on Hamano. There had been other less obvious signs as well. Of course, Woods was himself a spy of sorts. But Osmo reported only to Wolfnet and the Dragoons were not a threat to the Warders. “That’s not good, but it’s better than one of the uniformed personnel,” he sighed. She nodded. “He’s only been able to pass info from here on Suomi. Once the unit was off planet he was out of the loop for obvious reasons.” John nodded absently as he accepted the folder from her. Their home base employed a good number of civilian contractors. Out on a contract they only took a minimal amount of support and almost all of that was uniformed. He didn’t bother asking any of the questions that jumped into his mind. How? When? Why? Anything she knew or inferred would be in the folder just handed to him. “Thanks, excellent work as usual. What’s the other envelope?” “It’s for Lieutenant Aukland,” replied Janet blandly. “Personal business she asked us to look into.” “I can pass it on to her at the service if you’d like,” he offered. Skorrel started to hand it to him, then had a change of heart and pulled the file back out of his reach. “That’s all right Captain Woods. I’ll catch up with her later. As it was a personal rather than unit request I’d only feel right if I personally see it go into her hands.” “Only way to be sure,” he agreed with faked nonchalance. In truth, he wanted very badly to know what that envelope contained. The problem was how to find out. Perhaps he could get some information from other contacts within the security company. Lieutenant Laidie shuffled off of the shuttle buss into the cold with the rest of her VTOL officers. Everything had been a whirlwind of activity since touchdown on this new world as she dealt with getting her Hawks settled into their temporary quarters. Their permanent facility would require renovation before it was ready to house them. As many of the signs here were in English as well as Finn and Swede, she’d been s surprised when the bus had pulled into a regional park rather than some sort of cemetery. But a quick look around at the solemn groups streaming towards an area of trees and pole structures told her the bus driver had not been mistaken. Her Executive Officer, Flight Officer Marcus O’Grady, huffed warm air over his hands in an effort to warm them. Their new employers had provided excellent cold weather gear. He just hadn’t bothered to actually bring the gloves with him. “I don’t mean any disrespect but it looks more like a crowd of sports fans than a memorial ceremony,” he mentioned to her. Jennifer could see his point. Most of those headed toward the tree area wore the same pull-over parka they did. It was regulation issue for non-combat conditions and very warm. It was also a solid blue with the white shield and sword bearing blue lion crest of the Suomi Warders placed in a small version over the right breast and in a very large format on the back. Overall the snow-wear looked more like a fan’s jacket for a favored pro sports team than a military uniform to her eye. They wore more military looking uniforms underneath, but right now everyone melded into a large blue and white crowd as most had the hoods up to ward off the chill breeze. A small number of armed guardsmen stood by here and there however, a reminder of both the Warder’s military nature and that they still had a hidden enemy out there somewhere. “Although I see what you mean, try to keep such comments to yourself OK?. We’ve got enough integration problems to deal with without one of us accidentally insulting their traditions.” He nodded in agreement. “You got it Skipper. Lord knows I’ve caused a few misunderstandings in my day. My trap stays shut.” She nodded her thanks in reply and addressed those Hawks that had ridden the same bus with her. “O.K. folks, let’s go pay our respects.” Marcus meant his promise to Jenny one-hundred percent. He still thought this whole thing was a little weird though. As they followed the others down a wide, slushy path he noted the tall, thin trees and the thick poles that must have served as supports at some point to keep the needled evergreen trees growing straight when they were young. Taken together each group looked like a trio of columns with each pole between two trees. Round reddish discs were attached to each pole in varying numbers. None were close enough to check for inscriptions, but his guess was that they were probably some sort of good luck charm. Likes throwing coins in a well. These people just attached them to trees instead. Maybe their folklore had some sort of tree spirit that brought luck or something he guessed. He started to share his thoughts with Jenny, but remembering his promise and realizing he couldn’t possibly talk to her without others overhearing he decided to keep his musings to himself for the time being. Soon they entered a large clearing filled with several ranks of Warders plus assorted civilians. Directly ahead a portable stage had been erected and set with a podium. Speaker stacks were on stands to either side. Hearing whatever the Major had to say wasn’t going to be a problem Marcus to himself. It wasn’t much longer before a hushed silence settled over the crowd. Major John Linna stepped up to the podium and laid the small teak coffer he carried down on the shelf within it as an expectant hush fell over the assembled crowd. He lifted the lid and stirred the contents within for a brief moment as he gathered his thoughts. He’d scripted an outline last night, but at moments such as this he tended to speak directly from his heart rather than speaking from note cards. If the Warders could be said to have a sacred tradition, this was it. John had always felt it more appropriate to let the moment sweep him along rather then try to control the moment. “Fellow Warders, beloved family members, honored guests. This is the greatest, and most terrible, duty bestowed upon a Commanding Officer of the Suomi Warders. It is the ancient ceremony where we honor our recently fallen and officially move their names to the rolls of our fellows that have been lost in uniform. There can be no greater duty than to pay tribute to the brave souls that have fallen so that others might live and prosper; there is no duty more terrible than to deliver the final farewell to comrades that will never again march at our shoulder. “Over 650 years ago this planet was overrun and occupied. The Warders unit that we draw our ancestry from was shattered and fragmented. But despite the surrender of the government of this world, several bands of soldiers fought on as partisans. A number of them called themselves Warders; in fact the occupying forces used ‘Warder’ as a general term to mean any resistance fighters on this continent regardless of their origin or politics. The struggle continued for eleven years until independence was won with the help of Marik naval forces. “The resistance leaders of that dark era wished to honor their fallen comrades, but dared not take the time to build monuments nor inscribe their soldiers names on anything the invaders might read. At that time the coins of Suomi where cast in colored alloys. The ‘Red Lion’, a ten Mark coin of red engraved with a lion similar to the one of our crest today, was chosen by one of the leaders as a marker to represent the coin of freedom; his warrior’s blood. On a great tree that once stood directly behind me he nailed one Red Lion for each of his lost comrades. Soon the practice spread to other cells. After a few years many parks across the land held a tree studded with Red Lions. “Such was the bond between the citizens and the warriors of those years that even during the harshest times of hardship and poverty no one ever stripped a Lion coin from a memorial tree. Historians estimate that it took almost five years before the occupation’s commanders became aware of the significance of the trees. At first they left them alone, partially in honor to their foes and partially in fear of stirring too much public unrest. But eventually it was decided that the trees with their red badges of courage were too much of a rallying totem and plans were laid to seize them and take them down. Sympathizers spread the word and the Lions were collected and stored in hidden places until the day freedom was won. “Then they were brought here. Each timber pole represents either a resistance cell from the dim past or a company sized unit of the Warders from their long history as a planetary division in the early days and later as a private unit. The Red Lion coin went out of circulation long ago but the tradition continues with red alloy discs that now bear names and service dates replacing the ancient coins. These poles of red that surround us now represent over 600 years of fallen warriors. The trees planted to either side of each pole represents the continued life that those lost lives purchased. This memorial is part of a park so that perhaps the souls of the lost can be comforted by the laughter of the children that play freely today as a direct result of their sacrifice. “Those of us that don uniforms such as these are granted the honor of safeguarding society from those that would prey upon the innocent. The wages of that honor are not paid in coins, or in great machines of war, nor accolades or fame; the wages of honor are paid in a childhood of smiles, a stranger’s lifetime untouched by strife, a land unblemished by war. Too rarely does a generation produce that wage, but still we persist towards the day when we can all lay down our arms and fight no more. “There are a small number of actual Red Lion coins still in possession of the Suomi Warders to this day. When a warrior gives his or her life under conditions of extreme heroism or for the sole purpose of protecting their fellow Warders then a true Lion is brought forth and used to honor their sacrifice. This special homage is voted upon by the Review Board and today I hold two such Red Lions. They are to commemorate Privates Jorr Lahvti and Leonard Marheim. Each soldier lost his life solely as a result of protecting me from assassination. I also hold twenty two other memorial disks, each with the name of a comrade lost on Hamano. “In a moment we will adjourn to a pole far back and to my left where those lost under my command are commemorated. Traditionally the CO drives the nail for each disc as a physical reminder of the cost of both failure and victory. Today I have granted Lieutenant Ben Runeberg’s request to attach the discs for his lost lancemates. “I know that there are many belief systems represented within our ranks and with our recent expansion there are probably now a few more. I have asked Pastor Curtis to offer a quick non-denominational service after which the color guard will lower the flags to half-mast while the Soldier’s Last Duty is played. Then those that wish may retire with Lieutenant Runeberg and I to my Command Post to observe the attachments.” John stepped away from the podium and nodded to the Pastor. The coffer he left on the speaking stand. The first time John had been required to perform this ritual he had wanted to hold onto the small box, but found that it grew inordinately heavy and difficult to support during the Pastor’s sermon. On the few occasions he’d had to repeat this ceremony John had elected leave it and collect the teak box after the flags were lowered. He glanced out across the small crowd and noticed that many of the CORDF and Hawk recruits kept sneaking surreptitious peeks at the surrounding poles full of discs. John didn’t blame them one bit. It was a spooky feeling to realize you were surrounded with markers honoring fallen soldiers. Even now, as a veteran of actually affixing discs, he couldn’t help but glance down the neat rows of poles and trees and wonder about the men and women represented by the red circles. How they lived, how they died. In truth, he’d never visited a war memorial of any military on any planet that didn’t touch and chill him in a similar way. This one touched him the deepest of course. Whether he died in combat or of old age his name would adorn the pole or poles that represented his reign as CO just as his Grandmother’s name marked hers. Whenever he was here he always wondered the same thing. Would future generation of Warders praise him for adding few discs to the collection or curse him for marking his tenure with crimson metal? After the Pastor spoke a quiet buzz flowed from the crowd as comrades shared little comments with their brethren as the bulk of those assembled followed the two somber officers that would be nailing in more red discs this day. “That explains that,” Jenny said more to herself than Marcus. But his sharp hearing had overheard. “Explains what?” “The strange look I got when I asked about reporting to the Command Post back on Outreach,” she explained. The phrase had an entirely different meaning for this unit. It also explained some earlier hostility Marcus had run into as well. He’s overheard two Warder astechs talking about whether two soldiers would be earning a Red Lion and had assumed it was some sort of award. His boast that the Laidie’s Hawks would surely pick up a few the first time they got to show their stuff had gained him a sour look and their backs as they got up and left, leaving their unfinished drinks behind. Marcus decided he’d keep that little story to himself. Lydia Touberg studied the passive face of her ex-husband and recognized what he called his “3C” face- calm, curious and caring. It was his business dealings face; his practiced expression designed to show that he was open and listening; a purposeful non-threatening look. She had once found her passion piqued by this man who could remain unflustered before her powerful personality and carefully tended physical beauty. These days she found his ability to do so annoying rather than refreshing. Theoretically she should be able to deduce what he was thinking at the moment. They had once been more than simply wedded. For a few short years she truly felt they had been soul mates that completed each other. Then came the Starcade incident, followed by his growing drive to become a toy soldier like his grandmother and his obsession with locating a sister that must be long dead by now. No, she no longer truly knew the man who shared parentage with her daughter. He had done far more than simply mature and change a little- he had become an entirely different man than the one she had fallen in love with. The man who had betrayed her. John returned his ex-wife’s scrutiny with equal intensity, though far different thoughts. His mind had already cataloged the various directions the upcoming conversation might go and mapped out countering strategies. Now it was sitting in idle, waiting for her opening gambit. It seemed to him that though she was several years his senior, his ex-wife looked barely older than when they had first met. John rather doubted anyone ever thought the same about him. The distaste reflected in her eyes when she looked at him caused an ache deep in his being; though he hid that pain away from others. Although his mind knew she was now a dangerous enemy, his heart had never fully reconciled that knowledge with the memory of the loving woman she had once been. Luckily for John, his heart had become a junior part of his character since losing his parents and sister. His heart he had long ago locked down and hidden so his mind could focus on what needed to be done to find his sister. It was his mind that had propelled him here today against the dread of such meetings. He needed information that Lydia had. So here he was in his ex-wife’s bastion of power. Her personal study within the large mansion she shared with her second husband. The study itself was artfully arranged and, like it’s mistress, beautifully maintained. The walls were soft beige fabric panels framed by medium hued wood oiled to highlight the natural grains of the native material. Several bookshelves with glassed doors were built into the walls and a large picture window overlooked the pool and garden of the backyard area. Her desk was a dainty object of chrome tubing with wooden insets and desktop. It was as much a piece of art as a function object. He smiled to himself as he thought the same could be said of Lydia. She was both a trophy display and skilled businesswoman. They had already exchanged semi-polite small talk. She had made cutting jibes that he had ignored as usual. Then had come the period of silence they tended to fall into like two fencers waiting for the other to flinch, telegraphing an attack. She caught the ghost of a smile that flitted past his calm countenance when he thought of her as a trophy display and the moment of serenity was broken. It was time for the engagement to begin. “So what is it this time John? Rehashing the custody arrangement again? I’ve already granted you more leeway than the settlement calls for.” “I’d debate that opinion,” he replied, “but not today as that isn’t the purpose of this visit. What I want is information from your LoadStar Stellar Shipping Lines to track two individuals who acted as contract crewmen on some of your ships.” Her eyebrows rose in surprise. John often just bluntly blurted out his demands, but this was a totally unexpected development. LoadStar Stellar was where her family money had originally been built some six generations ago. Although now it was a backseat player among her total assets. Back in it’s heyday LoadStar had been a profitable shipper of contraband goods. The liberation of Suomi had granted a sheen of respectability to the forefather smuggler running the line when his patriotism lead him into gun running for Sampsa rebels. While it went mainly legit after that, to this day LoadStar often lurked along the fringes of the law, plying the Periphery more often than not. She probably should have dumped the company years ago but for sentimental reasons she’d retained control. LoadStar records would be a dangerous area to let John go rooting around in. And since he knew it’s history as well as she did, he wouldn’t dare ask unless he was after something very, very big. “I assume it’s for a legal suit of some sort. Why not just subpoena it? Have your lawyers call my lawyers, etceteras, etceteras,” she said in a carefully produced tone that expressed feigned utter boredom with his request. “Because the DropShips in question are registered out of the penny-ante Periphery nations. Your lawyers would tell my lawyers that the matter would have to be handled by the laws of the independent planets the ships are registered under. Each of those planet’s inept and corrupt legal systems would tie the entire affair up for years if not decades. If I ever got the information I seek then it would be too late to do any good.” Which was exactly the way the set up was supposed to work. He was going to have to do better than this to get any cooperation from her. “There you are then,” she smiled sweetly. “I see you have a full and complete understanding of the situation. Was there anything else you wanted to discuss before leaving?” John sighed to himself. It had been the response he expected. He knew she wouldn’t give over access to those records easily. But what little Osmo had learned so far placed his two playmates sitting in that Outreach detention center as crew of LoadStar ships. He would up the ante a bit. “I want to track the work records of two men. The two that tried to kill me on Outreach. Twice. They killed innocent bystanders instead.” She shrugged. “Then they belong in jail right where they are. For incompetence if nothing else. Who cares what their travel itinerary was?” John frowned slightly. It was rare that she outright referred to his actual demise directly to him. He’d always wondered if she really meant it when it popped out like that. Did the mother of his child really want to see him dead? Short of faking his own death and then spying on her, he’d probably never know. He forced those thoughts away and focused on his current sparring match. It was time to play the patriotic card. He knew she was deeply proud of her Sampsa heritage. It wouldn’t be enough to secure her help outright John knew, but it might be enough to get her to name a price. “Those same men were on the Starcade. They helped perpetrate the massacre. The records could finally help unravel how it happened and who the mastermind behind it was.” That stopped Lydia in her tracks for a moment. Despite her personal beef with John, she was a loyal citizen of Sampa and despised the unknown assassins of that day as much as any citizen. Whatever his many faults might be, she knew direct lying was not usually one of John’s. He had been known to be mistaken from time to time however. “Are you sure?” she asked with a heavy stress on the word ‘sure’. “Positive. I saw them face to face back on the ship and we recognized each other in a cell on Outreach. I want to discover where they were before the massacre and how long it was after the killings until they surfaced again and where they went. As well as their more recent activities of course. ” “That may affect things,” she admitted. “But still, we’re talking about a search that’s only quasi-legal. If word leaked out somehow we opened the records to your private spooks it might offend two guilds and three unions my shipping line must contend with to keep operating. And even if anything was found the data might not be admissible in court.” He nodded. He knew all these things. “Then we’ll all have to be careful not to leak it and offend the guilds and unions. As I don’t plan to use the data in any court admissibility is a moot point.” Lydia blinked in surprise at the harsh steel that crept into John’s voice. He seriously meant what he had just implied. He was planning on vigilante justice of some sort with his private army rather than pursuing legal channels. It was the most logical and efficient way to deal with the situation - but she wouldn’t have credited John with having the intestinal fortitude for such a move. It seemed he had changed more than she had thought. She’d have to remember that he had moved himself up to a new playing level. “I won’t just let you traipse around all the records, nor will access be from the goodness of hy heart,” she said matter-of-factly. “There will be a cost.” “I assumed as much,” he shrugged. From past experience each knew that John would either accept whatever deal she proposed or reject it and walk away. There was no longer a give and take in their discussions. All was silent once again in the study as she contemplated what the information might be worth to him. Then an idea struck her. It might be shooting for too much- but though he had not mentioned it Lydia was sharp enough to pick up the potential connection to tracing his abducted sister. These men had left the Starcade alive. Thus they might have knowledge of Holly Linna’s fate. She figured that his obsession with his sister could be used to great advantage. Perhaps even enough to trade one of his most valued possessions. Control of Danielle Electronics and Weaponry. She smiled coyly “If you want LoadStar’s records then you’ll sell me 15 percent of your DEW control stock. As I’m not a greedy or malicious woman I will pay the current fair market value of 15,350 FinMarks a share.” It was John’s turn to be surprised. He hadn’t planned for this development. The nine Board Members of DEW industries were the people owning the most shares of control stock. Company bylaws stipulated a great many things, one of them being that the Chairperson of the Board was he or she that owned the most stock. Another was that the Chief Executive Officer was appointed by the Chairperson. John held both positions at the moment, but selling her 15% of his stock would drop him below his brother’s total shares. And elevate Lydia past his brother to the own the Chair. She would then effectively control DEW industries. He’d still be a voting board member - but if it wasn’t for the fact the bylaws restricted him from being able to sell more that 15% of his control stock to a non-family member in any given calendar year he doubted she would have left him on the Board. Of course he could sell to her then have his sister declared legally dead and split Holly’s shares with his brother, thereby regaining control of the family company. But that would be robbing his sister. Unwilling to attempt bargaining with his ex-wife, he had three options available. He could forget about tracking the Starcade assassins’ movements for any hint of his sister’s fate or trying to locate their most recent lair. Or he could give the woman who now hated him with the same intensity she once loved him direct control of his family’s company. Or he could sell his shares to Lydia then steal his sister’s legacy so he could retain control of DEW Industries. Lydia smiled to herself as she saw he fully understood the position she had placed him in. There were three things he could do, and two of them essentially meant giving up the dream of reuniting with his sister. No matter what he decided today victory was hers. It was only a matter of how large her triumph would be. Down in the entry parlor down below Lydia’s study Jeff Linna was also facing a difficult truth. His nine-year-old niece was whipping his pants at the electronic game they lay between them. The rugged tabletop unit had a number of multi player games programmed into it. This one looked deceptively simple. The players bounced a light pulse between them that always hit one of fourteen gates, each of which had a button that “closed” it for a short time to rebound the blip. Fail to return it and your opponent scored a point. The blip would pick up speed with each successful return, and could be deflected to a new course at two lines that divided the screen into thirds by hitting one of three buttons at the right moment. A few other elements such as a limited number of deflection attempts and a shortening period a gate stayed lit when activated as a round progressed added more complexity. At first glance it appeared to be a game of reflex and reaction - but Jeff was finding that a strong element of tactical thinking and outguessing your opponent were involved as well. So far Sandi was proving the better tactician and more skilled player. Jeff had joined his brother on this outing both as moral support and potential witness. The Major had learned the hard way once not to let himself get into a situation where Lydia could easily set up a “he said- she said” result by making a spurious claim about him. The parlor Jeff now sat in was just inside the entry foyer. Twin staircases arced up the side walls leaving a high ceiling directly above the parlor. Centered between the top of each stairway the doors to the study were barely visible from his vantage place where they peeked above the railing that ran along the upstairs hall between the two stairways. This was usually about as far as he ever got invited into this house unless a social function had brought numerous visitors to the mansion. Sandi’s head was bent over her end of the game board. Her concentration seemed totally absorbed into playing the game. That’s probably why he was getting beaten so badly he tried to convince himself. His mind was fretting over what might be transpiring behind those closed doors. “Uncle Jeff, can I ask you something?” Jeff glanced down at her. Maybe her concentration wasn’t as intent as he had thought. “Sure Snowflake.” “Why does Mommy hate my father?” He jerked upright in surprise, forgetting to hit any of the buttons that might return the light blip. She scored another point. But she kept her face tilted down towards the game as she waited for both his serve and his answer. Think fast, Jeff told himself. “Uh, what makes you think that dear?” He winced to himself. That wasn’t exactly fast thinking- it was more like stalling. Worse, it was stalling that invited a deeper involvement in this uncomfortable conversation. “Because she never says anything nice about him. Because she looks at him with mean eyes when she thinks I’m not looking.” Jeff served just to give his hands something to do. He had little direct experience with children and was at a total loss here. When in doubt, try the truth his father had always said. Tempered for the audience at hand his mother the lawyer had always added. It was the only plan he could come up with so he decided to go with it. “She thinks your Dad did something, uh, sneaky and mean to her when you were very young. She hasn’t been able to forgive him yet. Maybe someday she will.” “It had something to do with Aunt Gracie too,” added the little girl. “Mommy hates her too.” Jeff winced to hear the young girl so casually use the term ‘hate’. Did a nine-year-old really understand the concept? He suspected most didn’t, but what worried him most was his suspicion that perhaps Sandi had a start on understanding. “I don’t know if ‘hate’ is the right word. But, I suppose she thinks that Aunt Gracie helped your Dad with the mean trick.” “They didn’t really do anything mean did they?” For the first time in the conversation she looked up to lock eyes with him. There were no tears in her eyes. No confusion or doubt. It was more like defiance. Like the child dared her Uncle to tell her that her father had done some wrong to her mother. It was an intensity Jeff wouldn’t have credited to a young kid. But then again for all he knew many kids were capable of being very intense. Luckily he had no need to try to lie. “No Snowflake. They didn’t. But your mother won’t believe them. There’s a bit more to it than just that, but it’s the main thing.” “I thought so,” she shrugged as she returned her attention to the game. “Sometimes Mom makes up her mind and no one can change it. Not even me or Ted.” Ted, or Theodore, was Lydia’s new husband. He’d had no children of his own and had doted over Sandi after marrying her mother. The little girl and her stepfather seemed to get along fine and have real affection between them. Heck, Jeff even liked Ted. Mr. Touberg was a straight forward, stand-up guy that ran a very successful commercial properties investment company. For not the first time in his life Jeff wondered what it was about Lydia that had allowed her to snatch up not one but two honest, decent guys into her life. Maybe she had a boatload of good qualities that he just couldn’t see. Or maybe some guys were just inherently gullible he mused. “Plus she’s afraid,” Sandi added after a moment. Jeff looked curiously at the top of his niece’s head. Her face was still buried in the game board. “Afraid of what Sandi?” “Afraid I’ll grow up and be a MechWarrior like my Dad. And I will. No matter what she says I’m going to be a MechWarrior.” Jeff forced himself to make a hopefully calming laughing sound. “You’re not even ten yet Sandi. You’ve got a long time before you have to decide what to be when you’re a grown up.” The young girl looked up at him again with those eyes that reminded him so much of his brother. “It’s in my blood. Grandmama said so before she went to heaven. But I already knew. I don’t tell Mom because she just gets upset and yells but I’m going to be a MechWarrior. The best there ever was, you’ll see. Well, maybe the best after Dad, Uncle Sven and Auth Gracie,” she amended. Jeff just smiled at her because he wasn’t really sure what might be safe to say. Despite his differences with Lydia it didn’t seem right to actively encourage his niece in her plans to defy her mother. Still, the solemn certainty that her destiny was in a ‘Mech cockpit was difficult to ignore. He was spared the necessity of creating an answer when the doors above them swooshed open. John moved towards the stairs to his left, stopping to brush at something on his jacket collar in a mirror that was set near the top of the stair. Lydia glided out to the railing and looked down at Jeff and her daughter. “Mom won this time,” whispered Sandi to her uncle, careful to keep her face down so her mother couldn’t see her lips moving. Jeff was disturbed at the matter-of-factness in his niece’s voice as well as the notion Sandi thought in terms of one parent winning and the other winning losing. He wasn’t a child psychologist, but he was sure this couldn’t be a good thing. Still, he himself had yet to read any indication of whatever had transpired between the two. Curiosity won out and he asked “how do you know?” out of the side of his mouth. “She only watches Dad leave from up there when she’s in a good mood. When she’s mad she stays in her study. And Dad stopped to make sure his face didn’t look sad before coming down to say goodbye to me.” With a chuckle Jeff glanced back at his niece with new appreciation. She was far more observant than he would have thought possible. “I’m think I need to get visitation rights so I can take you to board meetings with me,” he joked. She made a face. “Sounds boring. I’d rather go to the zoo,” she complained seriously, unable to read the irony in his voice. That she missed the joke made Jeff feel somewhat better. More wise than her years perhaps, but she was still a little girl. Then John was downstairs saying his goodbyes and Ted had magically appeared from nowhere to see them off as a proper host should. John seemed to be in good spirits until the two brothers climbed into the privacy of Jeff’s car. Then the elder Linna slouched in what the younger could only call the despair of defeat. The only times Jeff could remember seeing John look worse was after the Starcade attack, during his divorce, and the first time he had lost Warders under his command. “Something very bad happened I take it,” Jeff started without preamble as he backed the car up and turned it around in the wide expanse of the driveway. “I had to choose between looking for Holly and control of DEW Industries. So I gave her the company,” John replied tonelessly. “Could you explain that in more detail perhaps?” “I sold Lydia enough of my shares to become chairperson . It was her price for opening the records we want.” “How much?” Jeff asked. “The entire fifteen percent I could legally sell to her.” Jeff sighed audibly in relief . “Not good, but not the final word either big bro.” John Linna inched himself up straight a bit more to look at his brother so he could determine if Jeff had been listening. It seemed that the younger man had. As Chief Financial Officer Jeff knew the books and shares better than John did. Yet his younger brother seemed rather blasé about Lydia’s successful power play. “Perhaps you could explain in more detail this time,” prompted John. “Lydia’s sharp as a fox and twice as pretty,” smiled the younger Linna, “but she has two big blind spots that maybe you’ve never noticed but I certainly have. And it’s not below my somewhat tarnished sense of chivalry to use both to my advantage. The first is that she has no clue how much the rest of the board despises her. She takes their friendly-friendly act in the boardroom at face value. The second is that she’s convinced herself that I’m some sort of idiot savant who’s skilled with numbers but clueless about most everything else in life.” “And this helps us how?” asked John with growing hope. “I set up contingency deals long ago just in case she made some sort of power grab. While it’s true that a couple of board members aren’t too happy with the way you’re gone half the time, none of them wants the Witch of Pohjala on the throne. We can buy enough shares from the others to knock her back out of control. I’m afraid it’s going to cost you though.” “In what way?” “Tracey wants your 30 percent interest in that motorcycle factory in exchange for some of her DEW shares for starters. It sounds silly I suppose but she likes bikes and really wants to be able to say she owns part of the company.” John smiled. The Husquevarna-Indian marquee had been making large cruiser style motorcycles for over 300 years. John had garaged his four motorbikes long ago but he’d never been able to bring himself to sell them. He’d snatched up the company shares he owned when the bike builders were suffering a downturn for the same reason Tracey wanted them now. Not as an investment but because he liked motorbikes. “Believe me, I understand 100 percent. I can live with that one easily enough though.” “The next one isn’t so easy to live with John. They may be outdated bylaws; but they are the bylaws. Since you just sold control shares you’re barred from buying new ones for two years. It was supposed to be a brake on anyone foolishly giving up their position.” John shot his brother a sharp look. “Alright, cheap shot. I take it back. Anyhow I’m going to have to buy the shares and become Chair. And to do that I'm going to have to make Bret CEO. That’s been his condition for selling if it ever became necessary to block Lydia. You can talk to him though, maybe get him to change his mind.” John was silent for a moment as he mulled it over. Bret was a second cousin who had basically devoted his life to DEW’s management by climbing the ranks from floor management to an important VP position in addition to the board seat his inherited family shares had gifted him. As an engineer that also understood marketing and personnel, he was actually a good choice to head DEW Industries. If John discovered the type of leads he hoped would come from Lydia’s files, he’s need all of his attention focused on preparing the Warders for the biggest battle of his tenure anyway. He swallowed a lump in his throat. “No, give him the CEO spot. He’s earned it while I only inherited it. I’m going to be busy with the Warders anyway. And Jeff; Thanks.” Jeff glanced curiously at his brother as he maneuvered the sleek sportster down the lane. “For what?” “Thanks for not giving up on Holly.” “Oh, that,” grinned Jeff. “Call me a romantic fool too but nobody touches what’s rightfully hers until we know for sure she’s dead. And as far as I’m concerned until we see a body and test the DNA, she’s still alive. It may be a week or a year or ten years from now but we will find her.” As they cruised down the road in much better spirits Jeff wondered if he should mention his conversation with Sandi to his brother. Would it be meddling or would it be helping? But before he made up his mind the car-cell rang and soon he was involved in starting the ball rolling on the second secret takeover of DEW Industries within the same day. Back in her study Lydia was on her phone as well. Unfortunately the person she was calling wasn’t available at the moment. But his messaging box would serve. She didn’t bother identifying herself. The mysterious representative that had arranged the flopped interruption at the AeroDrome would know who it was. “Further cooperation between us will be unnecessary,” she cooed into the line. “I’ve just gained control of company in question so your services are no longer required. Have a nice trip back to whatever rock you crawled out from under.” She clicked shut her cell with satisfaction. This had shaped out to be a most excellent morning. Lydia decided to cancel her afternoon appointments and take Sandi to the zoo. She knew how much her daughter loved visiting the animal habitats. Sven stretched out his legs then settled them back down onto the recliner’s footrest. On most pieces of furniture it would be his calves rather than his heels resting on the padded material. But this chair had been custom built to match his frame and it fit his body like a hand tailored suit. The multi position recliner was one of four pieces of furniture he had purchased. Everything else in his quarters was Warder stuff left over from previous occupants. Although he would be the first to admit that the designer who had furnished the officer’s flats had higher standards than the average military buyer. Scattered about his work area were hard copy prints and data discs full of unit information, training reports, status checks, and so forth. However this particular afternoon he was “off duty” and had decided to indulge in the favored pass time of reading mystery stories. Curiously he only did so at home. Despite the long hours with little to do that space travel brought, he never managed to get around to pleasure reading on missions. Perhaps some part of him wanted to keep a special ritual ‘saved’ just for home, but he’d never really pondered the matter overmuch. Though Sven was inclined towards contemplating the true meaning of things, he was also aware that over-evaluating every little quirk would just be a distraction that kept him from focusing on important matters. This particular story was a new novel from the top sellers list for Suomi City. By now Sven felt the book had been over-rated in the reviews but he’d already invested a few hours on it so he planned to carry on through the last few chapters. It seemed pretty clear that the butler had done it - which was an unusual twist and a bit of a surprise. Sampsa literature rarely portrayed domestic staff types in a poor light. Maybe he’d polish a few short stories from an anthology after dinner. A library search he had set running before leaving for Hamano had turned up some archived ancient Terran work by someone named Ellery Queen. The professor that had attached an introduction to the files had been very complementary. Although when reading such ancient works one sometimes had trouble following the nuances due to the strange societies of the time. The door-buzzer snapped him from his musings. He reached for the remote environmental control and activated the door comm. “I’ll be right there,” he announced into it as he roused himself from the chair. He trotted down the stairs of his condominium style abode and headed for the door. There was a vid-system and peep hole but he bothered with neither. Sven was curious about who might be calling on him but figured he could wait until he actually opened the door to find out. “Lieutenant Jorgenson,” said Naoko with a hesitant smile as he opened the door, “I’m sorry to bother you off duty, but could I have a few moments of your time? I’d like to ask your advice.” Well. This was a curious surprise indeed. “Of course, no bother at all. Is this a ‘Lieutenant Jorgenson’ call or a visit to your fellow warrior ‘Sven’?.” Even as he was speaking he was opening the door and stepping aside to allow access. He was fairly certain she was here on a personal rather than professional call. Her slight smile went from hesitant to genuine as she bobbed her head to represent a bow. “Hai, Sven. I am not here to discuss matters of warfare. Forgive me for being so formal with a friend.” He returned her grin and mini bow. “Between friends there is no need for forgiveness Naoko. Now come on in and tell me what’s on your mind. I can brew up some tea real fast if you’d like. Or I’ve got juices and beers in the coldbox.” She stamped the snow off her boots before entering and shucking her overcoat. “I think in this case I’ll take a beer.” Sven walked into the kitchenette while she settled herself near the fireplace. Most of the downstairs consisted of a ‘great room’ that served as a combination eating/lounging/entertainment area. From their time together so far, much of it in the tight quarters of a DropShip, he knew that she rarely drank much alcohol. Whatever the subject matter was if she wanted a beer he figured he’d better fortify himself with one as well. He popped the tops of two bottles and joined her near the fire. The living space was well heated by normal forced-air means but he’d always liked the crackle of a natural fire on a cold winter’s day. Naoko accepted the cold bottle from him and he watched with mild amusement as she downed about a quarter of it in one long pull. “Hmm. It’s got a smoky character unlike anything I remember from home,” she remarked as she turned it slightly to look at the label. It was from a local microbrewery in the city. Sven nodded in agreement as he took a large swig himself. “Anyway,” she continued as toyed with the bottle, “this is somewhat awkward but; that is to say does the Major…umm, I know he has a daughter and all but….what I guess I mean is that well…..does John still ‘like’ women? Sexually I mean…” Sven coughed in surprise and almost spewed a mouth full of beer onto the coffee table. Instead he managed to accidentally suck some of the liquid down the wrong set of pipes, causing his coughing to get worse. Naoko paused in alarm as her host choked. “Are you alright? Do you require assistance?” He managed to clear his lungs back to nominally functional status. “I’m be fine. Guess I haven’t learned to breathe beer yet,” he joked. “Uh, you were saying….” She nodded and returned her eyes to the bottle as she continued. “John and I have spent a great deal of time together. On the DropShips. Here in Suomi City. We’ve been to dinners and even danced until dawn at a local club one night. I sense that we share a close connection; a strong mutual attraction. Obviously very few women could compare favorably to his ex-wife’s beauty but I have been told that I am at least a fairly attractive woman. I ask your forgiveness for being so blunt, but he has not yet expressed a ‘physical’ interest in me. I do not fully understand your culture so I thought that perhaps I am at fault somewhere or maybe there are other issues involved of which I am unaware.” Naoko finally paused to take a breath. She’d blurted the entire monologue without pause. Sven didn’t know whether to laugh at the absurdity of suddenly being thrust into his commander’s love life or to distance himself from the entire issue as quickly and tactfully as possible. So he stalled for a better take on the issue. “Isn’t this more of a ‘woman talk’ subject to pick over with a girl friend?” he asked half humorously and half seriously. She chose to treat it as a serious inquiry. “Hai. It would be far more comfortable to do so. But I have a serious dearth of female acquaintances who have known John longer than I have. Or that know your culture.” Sven nodded to himself. That would basically leave Gracie, and considering the circumstances advising Naoko to ask Gracie the best way to get into John’s bed would not be the world’s best idea. He really didn’t want to tread in this particular minefield but the earnestness, honest perplexity, and obvious care and concern for John that was in her voice forced him to respond in kind. “Upon reflection, I can understand your difficulties in finding the right person to talk to. Mind you, John himself is probably the person you should be having this conversation with but you came here seeking my advice and I’m honored that you hold me in such regard. In truth I’m leery as all hell about the whole thing, but honored none the less.” He paused to collect his thoughts while she waited patiently and quietly. She’d taken another big pull from the beer bottle then set it down on a coaster before folding her hands together in her lap as if at a white glove social event. As Sven gazed at her he couldn’t help but think that she was truly a stunning woman. Both in her physical appearance and her ability to be both the model of a demure, polite Combine junior officer and yet be totally different from the stereotype Combine junior officer at the same time. Both her attractiveness and her independent spirit had likely played their part in her career difficulties within the Combine. He knew from fighting alongside her that there was certainly nothing suspect about her bravery or skills as a MechWarrior. The complexities of Naoko’s character Sven had not yet fully fathomed. He doubted John had either. Major John Linna was a different matter for the large MechWarrior. While John still managed to surprise Sven now and then, by and large John’s character was largely a known quantity to him. The Major was fairly straight forward and easy to read if you knew how to interpret the signs. “It’s not exactly a unit secret that you two have been seeing each other. And we don’t have any big taboos against premarital sex between consenting adults nor do the Warder regs present any difficulty. The short form of what I’m rambling on about is that there’s no big cultural hang-up involved so I assume it’s something personal to John. I do know that John is a little self conscious about some injuries he sustained several years ago…” Naoko nodded and Sven paused to let her interrupt. “I am aware of his scars. I accidentally saw them when I was in sick bay on Coleson’s Orb. That is why he always pilots with a shirt rather than just a cooling vest. I do not know if there is, well, any other ‘injuries’.” “Just the scars. As far as I know anyway. Uh,…let’s just say that I have reason to believe he’s ‘fully functional’ and leave it at that.” There wasn’t a reflective surface for him to check within, but Sven was sure he was probably beet red by now. He decided to steer the conversation back to less embarrassing ground. “My best guess would be that he is concerned with his chivalry and honor. Or dishonor actually I suppose. We Sampsan males can be an old fashioned group with an over developed sense of protection. You’re a long way from home and just dodged a legal, and maybe even real, bullet by his intervention. He likely feels that you’ve been forced to relay on him for protection - which is ironic considering it was you that saved his life in that hotel on Outreach. But knowing John as I do, I’d say that essentially he’s worried about taking ‘unfair advantage’ of you.” She started to say something but this time he waved her off rather than let her interrupt. “I’m sure that in some coldly rational part of his mind he’s fully aware that you’re a big girl capable of taking care of yourself and making your own choices in life. And unless you’ve outright, blatantly propositioned him he’s probably convincing himself that any ‘hints’ you drop are just his imagination playing tricks on him. Yes, it’s terribly patronizing and in effect says that he knows what’s best for you more than you do. But he’s not scanning the situation that way. There might be a few other side issues involved but mainly it’s probably his overdeveloped sense of gallantry that’s getting in the way. He’s trying to do the right thing by you, even if it’s actually the wrong thing from your perspective.” Naoko sighed. “He is a complex man. More so than most I have met. Yet at the same time he is so simple and direct in his drives. It is an enigma to me sometimes. But yes, I believe I understand what you suggest. It is similar to an ancient story about a ronin samurai that aids a widowed noble. Through the course of events he stays and joins her household and they fall in love, but his love troubles him for he feels that perhaps he has taken dishonorable advantage of the woman's need of a hero for his own gain.” “What happens in the end of the story?” “The love remains unrequited and he ends up losing his life in her protection then she abdicates her wealth and joins a monastic order. I’m afraid that many of our tales center around tragic loss in the pursuit of honor or duty. It is something of a national trait perhaps.” “Ironic,” mused Sven. “Here the roles are reversed. You’re the wandering samurai and he’s the rich widower. Well, divorcee anyway. Hopefully we’ll see a better end though. I hope I have been of some help.” Naoko nodded strongly to the affirmative as she stood. “Hai. Indeed you have. My understanding is better now and my choices clear. Thank you very much Jorgenson-san. This matter has troubled me greatly.” He saw her to the door where they exchanged another set of good-byes. He pointedly didn’t ask what conclusions she had drawn and she didn’t offer them. As she marched down the steps into the snow she was definitely a woman on a mission. He thought she had summed up their simple yet complex Major Linna very well. The two made an interesting pair: the man who managed to be unfathomable and predictable at the same time and the woman who embodied the spirit of the modern Draconis samurai while eschewing the form. Then there was the third leg to this little triangle; also of a dual nature. Gracie was both gung-ho destroyer and protective nurturer. And himself? Well, it was always easier to objectively evaluate other people than to examine oneself. He tended to think of himself as an unassuming man that preferred to stay in the background. But if that was so, he mused to himself, why had he become first a police pilot and then a MechWarrior pirate chaser? Striding across the landscape in a 15 meter tall killing machine wasn’t exactly low profile. As the early evening settled in around the base, John had decided to make use of the unit’s many saunas. As he leaned back against the wooden wall of a corner of the top bench he closed his eyes. The dry heat of the sauna had thoroughly warned him, relaxing his knotted muscles. Later he’d splash water on the stove rocks and fill the small room with steam but right now he planed to just zone out for a while. This had been quite a day. He’d just added a huge chunk of cash to his bank accounts, lost control of the family corporation to his ex-wife, then helped his brother engineer a ‘retaking’ of the same company all in the same half day span. Since the death of his parents he’d been both Chairperson and Chief Executive Officer of Dannielle Electronics and Weaponry. It was the role he had been trained by his parents to perform. Now he was only Major Linna, CO of the Warders. The role his grandmother had tried to train him to perform. Perhaps this was all for the best. No one from his family line had tried to actively run both the company and the Warders at the same time for a number of generations. But in the wake of the Starcade deaths, his brother had not really wanted the CEO spot and John had hoped to keep it all together until either his sister turned up or his daughter could take over one of the responsibilities. It had probably been a foolish choice. He couldn’t effectively look for his sister and ‘keep things together’ at home at the same time. In reality, his brother had been defacto running the company along with the board. Who knew what deals they had lost because they couldn’t get his approval quick enough from whatever planet he happened to be sitting on? What opportunities had been lost because he wasn’t around to pitch the top brass and political leaders? Merc outfits generally worked cash and carry when they purchased equipment. If a supplier had what they wanted and they had the c-bills then a sale was made. With large scale orders by governments it all worked very differently. Politics and behind the scenes favors played as large a role in procurement as the cost or technical capacity of the equipment. Luckily a good part of DEW business was subcontracting to the better known BattleMech manufacturers, thus John wasn’t required to spend a great deal of time wining and dining various government officials. But even the major corporations they subcontracted for required a certain amount of stroking to keep happy. Yes, it would be better this way. He was still a voting member of the board but he was free to concentrate on building the unit, finding Holly, and doing unto his enemies before they did unto him. Still, he was forced to admit to himself that losing the CEO-ship hurt his ego. He’d never thought of himself as motivated by fame or prestige. But now that he’d lost some of each he was surprised at the sense of loss he felt. Yet the Warders were his true love and first priority. He told himself he’d get over not being CEO anymore soon enough. Too many people were counting on him to make the right choices as Warder CO for him to do anything else. He breathed in deeply of the hot air and held it, letting it warm his throat and lungs. With a slow exhale he envisioned his stress and negative energy leaving with his breath. A few more repetitions and he’d mostly cleared his mind. Tomorrow would be another day. Tonight he’s just relax here for a while then maybe turn in early. Having lulled himself into a deep, relaxed state John failed to hear when the door to the attached dressing room slipped open and was pulled shut again. Nor did he hear the quiet movements of someone moving about the small antechamber. The rush of cool air that hit him when the heavy wooden door to the sauna itself was pushed open finally registered with his brain that an intruder was about. It seemed a part of his subconscious was mindful of assassins while another was worried about modesty. He found himself grabbing for a water basin to cover his privates with one hand while snatching up a scrub brush to throw as a makeshift weapon with the other before his brain managed to focus anything resembling a coherent thought. John found himself looking at Naoko once his mind kicked into gear enough to recognize his intruder. At all of Naoko. His gaze rolled down her naked body over the swells of her breasts, across her taunt stomach, along the curves of her hips, and down to … with a start he forced himself to bring his focus back up to her face. She’d been following his gaze and there seemed to be a hint of a smirk on her face as his eyes found hers. He started to speak even though his mind had no idea what it planed to say. But she forestalled the attempt by bringing a finger up to her lips in the universal motion to indicate shush. “Mister John Linna,” she began crisply. “We appear to have some crossed cultural signals between us so I decided to make a few things clear. As I can see that I have your full attention, now seems like a good time clear the air between us.” She had caught him off guard and befuddled, but now John was fully alert. Two realizations dawned on him. One was that her comment could be taken to mean he was doing a poor job of strategic placement with the plastic wash basin. The second was that she was definitely enjoying his dumbfounded surprise. “Item one,” she continued, “as I believe I have just made quite evident, I am a fully grown woman. Thus I am capable of making informed decisions in matters of the heart as well as matters of the body. Item two; both of our cultures allow for mixed-sex bathing among family and friends- yours in the sauna and mine in large tubs. Item Three; both our cultures have a taboo about sex during such bathing events. Item Four; I am indeed suggesting we commence to break that taboo. You are not misconstruing my intent or imagining things. Item Five; I wouldn’t be standing here naked as a Red Jay if I wasn’t sure of both your honor and my desires. I suggest that you do not be so foolish as to send me away.” “The expression is ‘Blue-Jay’” he observed with wry smile. “Red-Jay, Blue-Jay, whatever,” she shrugged as she advanced towards him. “I take it my company is welcome?” “Startling, but very welcome,” he assured her. “I was never too fond of taboos anyway.” “Could have fooled me,” she retorted. But then their bodies pressed together as their lips made contact and she decided to let him slide on that last obvious falsehood. Meters away outside Gracie was slogging through the slush towards the two rows of saunas. There wasn’t any scientific proof to back it up that she knew of but she swore that the heat from a wood burning stove was better than the gas or electric saunas. She wasn’t alone in that opinion as saunas one and two - the two old style wood burners - were the most used. She figured she was probably too late for either wood burner but she’d check in case there was a cancellation. She smiled to herself when she read the name written on the clipboard attached next to number one’s door. For the current time slot Linna, John was lettered in. He always signed like that, which amused Gracie because it wasn’t like anyone would get confused over his identity. Not only was he the CO, he was the only Linna they had. Sven almost always wrote Lawman while Frank was always Frank P. She normally scribbled a barely legible Aukland. Gracie started to move on. She knew from long association that this was normally John’s quiet time when he liked to forget everything and be alone for a little while. Then she stopped as she changed her mind. She’d just stick her head into the dressing area and yell a hello and goodnight before she wandered off. It’s what she normally would have done. She’d realized that she’d been avoiding him when possible the last few weeks and had decided to work at returning to her ‘pre-Noako’ habits. Pushing open the door she noticed a second set of winter wear folded on one of the benches. An extra Warder issued uniform hung from a peg next to John’s. She could make out enough of the name badge to realize that it was Fujiwara’s clothing. She could barely hear voices through the heavily insulated inner room but quickly ducked back out and quietly pushed closed the outer door. The chill of the night air paled to the chill she felt inside. “Get a hold of yourself girl,” she growled to the frigid air. “You’re just going to have to deal with a new reality.” Resolutely forcing away the pictures that threatened to form in her mind she marched off toward the far end of row of saunas. Sven was working on his second helping of eggs when he noticed the Major walk into the mess hall. At the base an informal mess was kept going pretty much from early morning through the early evening which was open to all base personnel- enlisted, officer or civilian. Naoko and Misty had wandered in earlier, chatting and occasionally giggling about something. Frank was spinning an improbable tale of his previous evening’s activities to a small group that included Jason and several of the VTOL crewpersons. As usual none of the infantry were present. They generally prided themselves on being the most militarily minded bunch of the unit and the recent Orb additions to the Warders had followed suit. They ate at precise times at a different mess unless something unusual was going on. Other groups of techs, tankers, and a few odd civies were scattered about. There seemed to be an extra bounce to the CO’s step today Sven thought. Gracie, who more often than not ate at the same time Sven did and was usually his breakfast companion, had yet to show. Sven didn’t need a topomap drawn for him to draw conclusions. Captain Woods was absent as well, but like many of the married Warders he lived off base and rarely ate his morning meal at the mess. Jorgensen was just finishing up his food when the Major plunked down into a seat across from him. “Morning Sven. What’s on the agenda for you today?” “Good morning John. Commo training for the new MechWarriors on our communications gear and radio protocols in the morning. Then in the afternoon we’ll be in the main hangar going over safety protocols and maintenance schedules with the tech teams assigned to the various ‘Mechs.” “Sounds good. Make sure you go over the frequency monitor thoroughly. With an extra lance there’ll be more channels in use. In fact I just read your electronic memo on comm regrouping and I think you have a good idea about ..woops, excuse me a moment.” John’s hand-cell had started ringing in the middle of his comments. Checking the display he saw that it was his brother calling. It was pretty unusual for Jeffery to be calling him anytime before noon and certainly not this early. There was a series of quick ‘uh-huhs’ and ‘yeps’ from John’s end of the conversation before he hung up with a puzzled look. “Is something wrong?” asked Sven. “I don’t think so. Or at least Jeff told me that nothing was wrong at least three times. But he wants me to drop whatever I have scheduled and go see him immediately at his place. I don’t know what it is but something’s certainly up if he won’t trust his information to the cell-system. I’ll call Osmo and let him know I’m leaving. Guess I’ll grab something to eat on the way.” As John departed Sven frowned in thought. That had certainly been a mysterious and odd. He was even more puzzled an hour later when John called him from Jeffery’s Suomi residence and told him to hand off the commo class to Sergeant Harding and come join them. “Hey, so you’re the new floater,” said a new voice. The emergency medical technician turned from where he was finishing his transfer paperwork to look at the person behind him. “Yep, Ty Wilson from Little Austin. Pleased to meet you.” The two men shook hands. “Corey Hansen, local born and bred. What shift are you pulling?” Ty shrugged. “You know how the floater spot goes. Days unless there’s an event they want extra staff around for. So basically always on call.” “You staying in the station house?” “No, I have a cousin that’ll put up with me until I find a place.” “Great. Hey, look forward to seeing you around later. My 48 is up and I’ve got a family waiting for me so I’m on the run. I’ll catch you next shift.” Ty grinned and nodded. “Lucky man. I’m still looking for the right woman to start a family with myself. See you around in two days I imagine.” Corey waved again as he rushed down out the station entryway. The Fire-Techs worked two days on, two days off. The fireman would be home with his wife and kids for the next two days barring a special emergency. But such a n event was unlikely. Suomi was a modern, well designed city with a good, professional emergency services staff. The man calling himself Ty Wilson finished his paperwork and left it in the in-box then walked out into the midday air. This was a clean city, far cleaner than most he’d visited. Although Steven Ong did have to admit to himself that the light dusting of white snow probably enhanced the pristine look of the streets around him. Whistling a popular local folk-tune the Triad assassin leader turned toward the apartment he was sharing with Jiang Wu. When Ong had first received Wu’s message weeks ago -forwarded from a planetary hyperpulse station to the DropShip he was on- he’d thought it must have been a mistake. Don’t forget cousin Betty’s wedding if you make it back in time the message had read. The phrase was an emergency code indicating total failure. There had been no way for Steven to contact Jiang and assess the situation so the assassin leader had been forced to change his plans. Rather than returning to his stronghold he had rebooked his flights to meet with his henchman at a prearranged fallback location. It had not been a happy meeting for either party. Such a dismal failure to kill the target required a direct report to the Chairman. Despite the many successes Ong’s Triad had performed for Chairman Miller over the years, the Chairman had been rather rude to Steven and demanded that Ong see to Major Linna personally. Then, almost as an afterthought, the Chairman happened to mention to Ong the risky attack that had been sanctioned against the Warders on their home planet. Being unable to talk the old man into stopping the mad plan, Ong had at least been able to convince the Chairman to accept some insurance measures to back up the ‘Mech assault. Though Ong thought the attack foolhardy, it would serve as a good distraction if it failed in it’s primary objective. Posing as Ty Wilson, EMT, he was stationed at the response center closest to the Warder Base. Steven would be in place to act when the ‘Mechs attacked. His emergency medical tech credentials would get him anywhere he needed to go and gain him any cooperation he might need without facing the scrutiny police identification might receive. On just about every civilized world he’d ever been on, everyone loved a fireman. But the skilled assassin knew that time was short. He and Jiang would need to complete their assigned tasks here quickly, then return to Outreach and silence the two fools that had managed to miss Major Linna twice. And Steven still couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that his presence was required back ‘home’. The growing period of inactivity forced on his raiders by his absence would likely lead to rising frictions within the patchwork pirate outfit. A prolonged absence was also inviting a ‘visit’ by a rival Pirate Lord. As he shuffled his way to the newly rented apartment Ong still had the feeling he was missing something important. It was probably the Chairman. The secret puppet master probably had something else going on that related to this Linna contract. Something he had kept to himself. Ong didn’t like employers that kept necessary information from him. Perhaps once this John Linna was finally dead, the Electrical Contractor would cease his business relationship with Chairman Miller. Late afternoon found John tooling across the base in one of the Warder utility vehicles. The doors to the main hangar were drawn open so he simply drove within and parked along the inner wall to one side. Heat rushed in as he opened the vehicle’s door, causing him to shrug off his parka as quickly as he could. Huge blowers blew warm air into the hangar, keeping it at shirtsleeve temperature to make it easier for the techs to do their work. It was terribly inefficient to heat such a huge space but when you have your own reactor to make power you can afford to waste energy heating cavernous hangers . He saluted the two hangar guards and wandered deeper inside. A group of techs and MechWarriors were clustered near the feet of Basem’s Grand Dragon. Off to one side John could see three other techs working on Granny as they began the modification process to fit a C3 master into her Awesome. The modifications were going to be somewhat difficult as the Awesome had not been built with the communications wiring to handle the master unit. Although they did have a jump start on the process as Granny had already been modified once to mount the slave unit. Lieutenant Laide and several of her Hawks were on base at the moment and conversing with Sergeant Harding about equipment needs. Originally John had planned to put the Hawks in the unused aerodrome that was adjacent to the base, but the airfield had been unused for so long the facilities weren’t up to housing the VTOL unit. Instead he’d placed them at a commercial aerodrome while he found a construction crew to renovate the old Warder one. Transport between the base and the civie airport was little problem for a unit of helicopters as there were plenty of open spaces within the base’s walls to land. A few other Warders were about doing this and that as he walked over to join the MechWarriors. John felt supercharged with energy after the meeting with his brother and in unbelievably high spirits. He came darn close to skipping as he crossed the ferrocrete floor. His life had taken some incredibly wild turns in the past 24 to 48 hours but the future looked bright indeed at this moment. Nothing could bring him down today. He heard the unmistakable spanging thud of a solid kick on a ball and looked up just as someone called for him to watch out. Two techs on a break had been kicking a football around and one of them had accidentally put too much on the ball and sent it arcing across the hanger towards him. He stopped it with a well executed foot trap. In his hand he held Gracie’s Bull Dog’s football club jersey. He’d never gotten around to returning to her and had thought he might find her here to do so. He assumed she’d be hovering about Granny as Sparky pulled her apart. A worried voice called out “Sorry Sir!”. Between the jersey and the white and black ball an idea was born. This was just too perfect John decided. “All right, we can’t be having this,” John yelled loudly to get everyone’s attention. Conversation stopped as all heads turned toward their CO. “Two players are simply not enough to have a proper game.” He lifted a decent pass back towards the original two ball players before continuing. “Now, I want all the even service numbers on the far side of the main runway and the odds on this side. Sergeant Harding, if the groups are unequal you even them out. We’ll use the Grand Dragon’s legs as one goal and the Lancelot over there as the other. They’re not exactly lined up but they’ll do. Top of the shins is top of the goal with final arbitration going to the goalkeep. Any bounce off walls, ‘Mechs, vehicles, or equipment is live. No offsides but don’t group within four meters of the goals. No slide tackles and be careful of accidentally running in to each other. What’s everyone standing around staring at me for. Let’s go. Game On people.” The ‘runway’ John had referred to was a painted walkway for BattleMechs to follow before turning off towards their assigned niches. A number of other color coded painted paths crossed the floor to help ensure nothing got stepped on or rammed. As the assorted Warders sorted themselves out into two oversized teams John singled out the door guards. “Yes, you two too. Lock your weapons in the office locker and double-time your tails back out here. We’re in the middle of our own base, I think we can afford a bit of lax security once in a rare while.” Grinning like school kids the two guards double timed for the offices as Harding equalized the teams. A huge number of bright orange wipe rags were on hand, useful for wiping up various messes and neon colored to help ensure none got accidentally closed inside equipment compartments. The far side team took to tying them around arms and heads. It was a far better idea than shirts and skins John mused. Since he was already on this side and orange bandana-less, John figured he’d play for the non-orange team. Sergeant Cascade was leading two squads past the main hangar when she realized that a number of vehicles and equipment carts were lined up across the open entrance like some sort of barricade. There didn’t seem to be any sign of the guards either. Concerned, she turned toward the strange sight. Nearing the hangar she heard the roar of several voices echoing within as what she thought of as a soccer ball (though most of the planet referred to as a ‘football’) soared over the top of a cart to be followed by a number of people chasing it. She scooped it up about to really curse out a blue streak then realized with a start that the Major was leading the pack. With a double-take she saw that he was wearing a Bull Dog’s jersey. Two of the others she recognized as astechs and for some reason they had orange cleaning rags tied around their heads. The Major seemed to be indicated that he wanted the ball so she bounced it back to him before saluting. “At ease for crying out loud Sergeant,” he smiled. “And where are you lot off to on this fine afternoon?” “Sir. To the obstacle course Sir,” she barked. “In the snow?” “Affirmative Sir!” “Well not anymore Sergeant Cascade. You’ve just been drafted into our No Worries game. Pick half your people to be on the orange team and fall in.” He turned with the ball and jogged back into the hangar. Sammy Cascade stood momentarily stunned, then shook her head to clear it and turned to her squads. “All right, you heard the Major. We’re now playing soccer. First squad is orange, second is …not orange. Let’s double time it people.” As her troopers swarmed eagerly towards the warm hangar and it’s waiting game she shook her head in bemusement. She wasn’t aware of anything having happened to bring on this sudden change of behavior. However, if the Major wanted to play soccer then they played soccer. He’s the boss after all. No official time limit had been set but all the participants could sense that the game was winding down. Sheer exhaustion on the part of most of the players would force a close fairly soon. No one was sure of the exact score but final energy reserves were being mustered as each team tried to score the goal that would be the end of the game. John had been playing mostly defense but when the ball was kicked down toward the edge of midfield of their irregularly shaped game area and drew a crowd he decided to make a run towards the goal in case someone could get a decent pass to his sideline. He saw two players from his side emerge from a small pack with the ball and waved to get their attention. A perfect pass was placed right in front of him and he found himself dribbling down the right side towards the Lancelot. Big Sven stood between it’s legs in the oversized goal while Sergeant Cascade back-pedaled before him. She was the only defender between him and Sven, although from the corner of his eye he could see three orange defenders closing in and trying to cut off his angle. The speedy Naoko lead the orange charge. But the defenders had failed to mark the original two who had made the pass to John. That pair streaked down the play area opposite and a bit behind him, open for a pass and shot if he could get it over the heads of Naoko and her fellow orange teamers. Sammi Cascade finally decided she’d better stop backing up and attack, but she’d already let him too close. Soccer really wasn’t her game anyway and he easily faked inside then scooted past her on the outside with the ball. But now his angle to the goal was poor and Sven, an experienced goalkeeper, was smothering off his shot by knowing where to stand. But that was all right, John hadn’t been planning on shooting anyway. He booted the ball high, aiming for the groin area of the goal ‘Mech. It was a rebound pass meant for his teammates approaching the other corner of the goal. Sven read the pass and started out to where he expected the rebound to fall, planning to catch it before it could be played by the attackers. But the ball took a surprise bounce off of the angles of the Lancelot and went directly back towards John whose momentum had carried him several steps closer. Naoko adjusted for the odd bounce and jumped up for a header but John had a full step on her and was much taller. He headed the ball past a reaching Sven and through the goal just before she slammed into him and the pair of them tumbled entwined to the ground. John was smacked hard in the ribs and took one of Naoko’s elbows to the shoulder as wound up the bottom person in their fall. As he had nominal control over his fall he hugged Naoko to him to keep her momentum from carrying her beyond him and maybe smacking her head into the ground. “Gooooooaaaaaaallll !” rolled technician Rodriguez from midfield as everyone stopped and bent over panting to catch their breath. Laughing, John pushed himself into a sitting position and started to untangle himself from an equally amused Naoko. They both paused as they sensed someone glaring at them and looked up to see Lieutenant Aukland standing a few meters away. She did not look very amused. “Well, this is a fine thanks I get,” Gracie growled at John. “I’m busting my butt doing spare parts reports like you asked - something that an admin staffer could have been doing equally well I might add- and when I come out to see how Sparky’s doing with Granny you’ve got the whole unit playing football ! I turned down an SDF lance command for you because you said you needed my help building a crack ‘Mech unit to kick some bandit ass. Nice to know we have the best football squad in military uniform. “You know Mister Fun and Games, I practically babysat you through the academy. And who was the first person to back your play in Jeddah? Me, that’s who. And what have you done? You brought in an outsider to be XO, almost got us all stranded on Coleson’s Orb grandstanding when you should have been paying attention, and filled the Warders with just about everything you could buy except more BattleMechs. We’ve got ten VTOLs for crying out loud. And when we do accidentally inherit a couple of MechWarriors you set Sven to training them and send me off to count myomer connectors and bearing shafts.” She had drawn a big audience for her tirade and a small voice in the back of her head was telling her to back off now before she stepped way over the line. But the hurt inside that she’d tried so hard to purge had been set loose. It had never been her intention to air her dirty laundry in public, but she found herself continuing when she should have been shutting her mouth. “And what do I get for all my personal loyalty and dedication to the mighty hero of the Starcade John Linna? Instead of dealing with those two jailbirds on Outreach you’re at home playing grab ass with a Drac. And not only in public but wearing the jersey I gave you on the Orb. Did you take it in the sauna with you too? An extra laugh on the old lady? What the hell anyway, right? When you get tired of Chu-i Green Dress you’ve got Lieutenant Gorgeous the Heli-babe waiting in the wings. “Well you know what? I’m through with this outfit. I’m going to sign up with a real fighting unit and go tangle with a real foe like the clans. I quit. I’m outta here. Next shuttle to Clarksville……No, wait I don’t quit just yet Major John Linna. I’ve got something like four or five months unused vacation piled up. First I’m going to make you pay me while I’m drinking Colatas at a tropical resort planet someplace. Then I’m going to quit. You’re not the only rich person on this planet you know. I’ve got plenty in the bank too and That’s…My…. BattleMech.” She had emphasized each of the last three words with a forceful point toward the Awesome. “ I don’t need you John. Later Gator.” Her tirade might have continued but Gracie felt tears threatening to well up and she damn sure didn’t want to end her speech by crying. She stormed out to a stunned silence, the hurt evident on John’s and Naoko’s faces churning deep in her gut. Not because she was proud to have caused it, but because she knew in her heart neither deserved the pain she had just dished out. John lost several steps to Gracie as he shook off her verbal assault and clamored to his feet. He started to call out to her, to rush after her, to try to do something. But a large hand closed on his shoulder to restrain him. Looking behind him, John found that it was Sven that has grabbed him. Sympathy and concern was evident in the large Lieutenant’s face. “Let it play out for now,” he said quietly. “Let her cool down for a while.” It was a suggestion rather than an order to his commander. A fact Sven emphasized by releasing John’s shoulder so that the Major was free to do as he pleased. John looked back across the hander in time to see Gracie slamming a utility runner’s door shut. The small car whirred to life and sped away. “Well, looks like I was wrong again,” John said more to himself than Sven. “Something could go very wrong today after all. Looks like senior staff needs to take some break time to sort out some issues. My brother wanted to go on a ski trip, maybe I’ll use some of my backlogged vacation too.” He raised his voice to address the others. “Thanks for the game folks. I don’t think the pros are going to drafting any of us anytime soon but you all play with a lot of spirit. We’ll have to do this again some time.” Naoko marveled at the calmness and control John was exhibiting. She felt like she’d just been gut shot by a good comrade. He had to feel at least a hundred times worse. She forced herself to her feet as well and caught up with him as he turned to leave. “John…I’m sorry. I never meant to cause any trouble …” She trailed off. What more was there she could say really? “It’s not your fault Naoko. I knew that I couldn’t live the life of a normal person when I accepted command. I’m the one at fault. All responsibilities end with me, even for things I can’t directly control. That’s a CO’s job. I better get about doing it. I’ll call you later.” With a bitter smile he trudged off into the waning light. When he’d decided to walk rather than drive he’d accidentally left his parka behind in the utility car. But during the entire twenty minute walk to the General’s House in which the presiding CO of the Warder’s traditionally lived he barely noticed. He was already numb to the core. Gracie double checked the clothing in one of the nylon duffels then zipped it shut. Into a locking hard-sided case she placed a web belt along with her pistol, a combat knife, and two boxes of ammo. Her traditional Suomi warrior’s knife she left on the dresser. There was a small fortune in C-bills stuffed in the case along with the weapons. She’d like to take the combat shotgun, but as it was technically infantry Lieutenant Karl Foster’s she left the weapon leaning in the corner of her bedroom. As she half expected John to come calling at any moment she was in a hurry to leave and didn’t have time to go chasing around the base returning things. Looking about her spartan living quarters she was surprised at how little she actually owned. Well, easier to travel that way she decided. It was just setting into the evening but she had quite a ways to travel still. Sunrise should find her at an aerodrome far from Suomi City where a shuttle for an outbound DropShip was holding a seat for her. Fumbling with her three bags she pushed open her door to find Keena just about to knock on it. “What was all of that then, just a load of crap?” demanded the obviously angered MechWarrior. “Excuse me?” “All your talk when recruiting me of finding a home; joining a family. About being where you’re meant to be. Everything you’ve ever told me about being a Suomi Warder. That’s what I’m talking about. And you’re bailing on me for what? Just because the Major’s getting a little nookie on the side? What the hell’s the matter with you Lance Leader?” Gracie had thought that her heart had broken as many times today as it could, but looking at the betrayal in Keena’s eyes broke it again. The implementation may have been overboard, but Gracie had made her choices and it was too late to back out now. But she could at least try a little damage control. “No Cowgirl, it wasn’t all B.S. It’s just a lot more complicated than I can explain to you right now. But the Warders are the best group of people you could ever hope to have stand by your side. What’s the matter with me? Dammed if I know. I can’t really explain it but right now I need to go somewhere else. No Keena, no questions right now,” Gracie said to forestall the arguments forming on the new Warder recruit. “Look, despite everything I said in the hangar I know it’s really me that’s acted like an ass and not the Major or Katana. When we signed you on you promised us that no matter what, you’d be where we wanted you when we wanted you to be there. At this moment anyway I’m still part of the Command Staff and I’m telling you that right here with the others is where I need you to be. I don’t how long I’ll be gone but I do promise you this Keena; I will come back. If John and you guys can forgive me, I’ll be back to stay. Otherwise at least long enough for a proper good-bye. But tonight I’m out of time. Keep an eye on the rookies while I’m gone, OK? And no backsliding on me while I’m …. off getting things together.” Keena surprised Gracie by grabbing her in a tight hug. “Damn but this doesn’t feel right,” sighed the Solaris MechWarrior. “But if anyone knows then I know. Sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Via con Dios, Mother Goose. Come back as soon as you can.” Keena stepped back and braced to attention with a smart salute. “Sisu Sir!” Gracie felt those damn tears threatening again. She returned the salute. “Sisu Cowgirl.” Then Gracie Aukland, MechWarrior and Lieutenant First Class of Alpha Lance, Suomi Warders, rushed past MechWarrior Washington and fled into the night.
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