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| - By: David Wainio “I’m sorry Sir but there’s no way I can have the Fire Wraith repaired in four hours.” Master Tech Sergeant Harding waved his diagnostic pad at his C.O. to emphasis his point. “The arm alone is a four hour job – and that would be with two astechs assisting. But give me all night and we can have everyone ready to roll by early morning tomorrow.” Lt. Colonel John Linna glanced up at his BattleMech. The arm that had been severely damaged by a burst of heavy autocannon fire hung with the forearm section shattered and angled out in an odd direction. Otherwise the humanoid shaped ‘Mech had lost some armor here and there but his Camelot was in good working order. “I’m not waiting until tomorrow to take out the pirate HQ,” stated John emphatically. “I don’t need miracles from you and your tech team Will. Just replace the torso armor. Same with the other Mechs; just armor and ammo. Anything too banged up to be fight worthy can stay here. The pirates don’t have much left anyway. The ‘Mechs and tanks are only for breaching the wall. It will be an infantry battle after that.” Sergeant Harding’s jaw set in the fashion that John knew meant his personal Crew Chief was an unhappy tech. But John’s face was set in the mold that William Harding knew meant his C.O. was not going to let his mind be changed. The sergeant had been around long enough to know that rank always won out over common sense. He just wasn’t used to the Warder’s C.O. lacking common sense. “Sir, I really hate to send ‘Mechs out that are not fully operational. But if that’s the way you’re cutting the order than I’ll have each crew chief do what they can and still have their ‘Mech sealed up and ready to march within four hours.” “That’s the order Sergeant. Just do what you can, that’s all I ask.” “Then I’ve got no time to loose,” sighed Harding. “If you’ll excuse me Sir?” “By all means Will. Thanks,” nodded John. As the two men walked off in opposite directions, soldiers, technicians, and the occasional civilian contractor were scurrying about the captured aerodrome performing the hundreds of tasks required to set up a military HQ. The battalion sized mercenary outfit had only arrived on the planet seven hours ago and had already fought two battles against the pirates that had made this island their home. The Warders had been hurt but the pirates had been shattered. Only the capture of the Yu-shan HQ and the rounding up of the pirate dependents at their main camp site remained to be dealt with. So far the operation was a total success – assuming one could set aside the death and injury of friends. John wasn’t the type that could easily do that. He made a sweep through the temporary hospital where he bumped into Captain Laidie of the VTOL company. She was being cleared for flight duty after being shot down only hours before so that she could get back in the air and fly the perimeter patrols. It seemed to John that he wasn’t the only person in this outfit who was still looking for another fight today. He did have to admit to himself that she still looked a little dazed. But he’d leave it to the Doctor to decide if she was still fit for duty. After about twenty minutes of visiting with the wounded he headed off to look for some chow. That was when he realized he had no idea how his growing HQ camp had been laid out. There had been a master plan but he’d only paid close attention to where the repair bays and defense points would be. Looking around he could see that some of the airfield’s buildings had been pressed into use while in other places giant tents had sprung up like mushrooms while he had been out leading the BattleMech force. A passing tank technician was able to point him towards the food. Mess had been set up with the tents and trailers designed for that purpose rather than in a commandeered building. John assumed that the food service people -–who were largely civilian contractors – had decided that using the equipment and layout they were familiar with was the best way to feed a small army. He walked into the main tent and practically froze in his tracks as the scent hit him. Cinnamon rolls. Fresh baked cinnamon rolls or his nose was a liar. With a little shake of his head to clear it of half forgotten memories he walked down the chow line and grabbed some cold cuts and bread for a sandwich along with a mug of tea and a huge cinnamon bun that was gooey with white icing. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d eaten one. When he was a kid maybe? As the commanding officer, owner, and guy that signs the paychecks there where few places in a Warder base John could go without being observed and reacted to. The food service manager appeared from nowhere to ask the Lieutenant Colonel if everything met with his approval in the mess. John assured the man that it did, then asked the manager what had made him decided to make the cinnamon rolls. “Is there a problem with them?,” asked the manager nervously, “I can get rid of them at once and substitute something more…” John waved him off. “No, they’re fine. I love them. When I walked in it just really hit me as …well…it just really hit me is all. I was just wondering why you decided to go to the effort of baking them in the middle of setting up.” The manager beamed with pride. “I knew that you would have some rescued prisoners to feed right away and I wanted to help make them feel comfortable and safe. To me, nothing said I was home and everything was right with the world like when my mother baked cinnamon rolls on Sunday mornings. So I thought it might be a nice touch. Do you know that almost none of the rescued children had ever seen, tasted or smelled a cinnamon roll before? It brought tears to my eyes to see their faces Mr. Linna. Tears to my eyes.” John patted the man on the shoulder. “I know what you mean. Good job. And give my compliments to the chef.” As John ambled towards an empty table with his food he exchanged nods and greetings with the few troopers that were eating at the moment. It was easy for the uniformed members of the unit to read that their C.O. wasn’t looking for company so he was able to claim a spot that stayed clear for a one table radius around him as other people trickled in. Until Captain Woods came in that is. He marched directly over to John and sat down without even bothering to grab a bite. “Sir, I wanted to ask you about the Atlas,” Osmo Woods announced as he sat. The Lt. Colonel swallowed a fork full of cinnamon roll. Captain Laidie is going to love these, he mused to himself as he flashed back to interrupting Jenny during her breakfast just as Woods was doing to him now. But the Captain wouldn’t have left the Bifrost command trailer to seek him out personally unless if was very important. And something Woods didn’t want to talk about on the comm. grid. John put down his fork and leaned back, giving his combat information officer his undivided attention. “It’s all in the report I filed on the way in. An equipment malfunction erased my battle ROM thus I made an audio report. I arrived just in time to see Lieutenant Parks fire into the Atlas’s rear and save Major Aukland from certain death. The Atlas turned and fired a flight of missiles at Ranger, but he got off a final shot that got inside the already damaged left side. When faced with my fresh ‘Mech the Yu-shan leader ejected before I even fired a shot. Although Gracie did exchange fire with it, Ranger did most of the damage so I want to credit him with the kill. His last one. An Atlas from his Bushwhacker.” “And how do I explain your ‘Mech’s arm?” Osmo wanted to know. It had been shattered during John’s engagement with the Atlas, right before John had maneuvered behind it and brought it down with several shots into the damaged rear of the pirate assault ‘Mech. “That prototype Raven I ran across was tougher than anyone would have imagined,” John deadpanned. “I plan to submit Lieutenant Parks for a Red Lion award. Do you have a problem with giving Ranger a final kill to take to the grave with him?” John found it was easier to call his dead friend Lt. Parks or Ranger than Frank for some reason. “No, not at all,” Osmo assured the other officer. “In fact I already made the changes required in the telemetry recorded by Bifrost from yours and Frank’s C3 units to support your report. It’s just that in light of my recent history, I didn’t want to tamper with anything without your knowledge and say so.” John nodded. “Yeah sorry. I can see where you’re coming from and I had forgotten about the C3 telemetry. I guess it probably seems stupid to you that this is important to me. It’s not going to bring him back. But there isn’t much I can do for him now so I do what little I can for his memory. And he really did sacrifice himself to save Gracie by distracting the pirate leader long enough for me to get there. He went one on one against an Atlas with a 55 tonner.” A sad knowing smile touched Osmo lips. John was over looking the fact that he had gone after the same Atlas in a 55 ton chassis as well. But John never recognized his won heroics. “It’s not stupid. I understand better than you think. It’s too bad we can’t do a little something for Leena Calahan. She stayed to try to protect Gracie when she could have saved herself instead.” John agreed. “True. But technically she was part of Holly’s unit. We’ll make sure she gets some sort of special mention in the memorial services and the unit records. And the Bhati sisters are doing some sort of religious rite to mark her passing. They asked me if I could attend. I told them I would.” “It’ll be a nice gesture,” nodded Osmo. Then like the intelligence officer he was trained to be Osmo switched mental gears to other business. “There’s two other things I want to mention. The first is that computer disc. It got cracked when Zou was torn apart by those ladies. We should be able to put something together that can read the data from the pieces, but all of our techs are busy working on the ‘Mechs and vehicles right now so it’ll have to wait for a while.” The disc had come with a short letter found on the Yu-shan pirate leader’s body address to John Linna. It had been short and to the point. “As you are reading this, I must be dead. An occupational hazard for a pirate and assassin I suppose. Do not delude yourself that your revenge is complete. The man pulling the puppet strings that betrayed me to you is the same man that arranged for the Starcade attack. Everything you need to know is on this disc. There is a back up copy on my desk in case I escape. A moot point since you have this note, but I wanted you to understand that it was never personal between you and I. Your true enemy was never me. I look forward to having some new company in hell soon. Tan Zou.” It was never personal? John didn’t see it that way. John shrugged in response to the news about the damaged disc. “We should have the back up copy soon anyway. And that Councilor character for extra answers as well.” “It could all be an elaborate ruse,” noted Osmo. “I know. But figuring out if the information is bogus or not is your job. My job is deciding what to do about it should the information prove reliable. What’s the second thing?” “Sergeant Cascade wants instructions on what to do with her Clan Nova Cat bondsman.” John hadn’t thought that anything could push Zou’s note, John’s lost friends, or his burning desire to take that HQ fort from the pirates out of his thoughts. Captain Woods had just proved that notion incorrect. “Uhhh…how about if you explain this Nova Cat bondsman thing from the beginning?” John asked as he exhaled deeply to expel his surprise. An hour later John was in one of the two hangars on the aerodrome. Half of the open space was taken up by a sleek Star Stream III personal space yacht. The winged craft was essentially a small private DropShip designed to carry a crew of four and up to six people in comfort and style either across a planet or out to a JumpShip. Not many such ships had ever been made. John assumed that they would be able to track down the rightful owner and return it. Most everything else on the island, from the damaged enemy BattleMechs to the untouched aerospace fighters in the other hanger, would be the Warders as the rightful salvage of battle. Any material assets that the pirates had stolen that couldn’t be identified for return to the rightful owner would be sold. Part of the money would go to the pension fund that paid survivor benefits to Warder dependents and the rest into accounts that would be given to the rescued hostages to give them something to restart their lives with. The other half of the structure was filled with most of the Warder officer corps and non-commissioned section and vehicle crew leaders. John was using an electronic pointer to identify features on a projection of the island being thrown up onto a blank wall. “As you can see,” he remarked, “the HQ facility is backed into a half circle of cliff faces with an anti-Mech wall stretching across the mouth between the cliffs. That stuff is volcanic rock, difficult for the ‘Mechs to move on and the slopes approaching the rim from behind are too steep for the tanks. We could land the VTOLs on the top but it’s a very long way down and I don’t plan to drop rocks on them all day. The main building is old Star League era as is the wall. The repair bays and other out buildings within the HQ compound are later additions. They have the top parts of two ‘Mechs mounted on rotating bases and attached to a track that lets them roll along the wall as a sort of semi-mobile turret system. They probably have the three ‘Mechs that got away from the morning battle there as well. Here and at these places you can see some standard defense turrets. “After having a talk with some of our Yu-shan prisoners we estimate that there are only 30 to 40 gunmen left at the HQ. The plan is simple. We will use our superior force to bring the place down around their ears. Except for the main building, which we need evidence from. We’ll have to send an infantry team in to clear it out if they continue to resist. They have a natural gas burning power plant within the walls which we’ll take out with an air strike. Then we just move into long range with our armor and ‘Mechs and bring the wall down. Ground forces will then insert once the ‘Mechs and armor have secured the compound. Any questions?” Sven Jorgensen, the huge MechWarrior that was now John’s acting second in command with Major Aukland under medical care, reluctantly stepped forward. “Sir, I feel it is my responsibility to ask this. Why are we pressing an attack so soon? Our people are tired and our equipment damaged. The enemy has nothing of note left to attack us with. Why not let everyone rest and deal with them tomorrow. They can’t go anywhere. We’re on an island.” John gaped at his friend Sven in surprise for a moment before answering. Admittedly, part of an X-O’s job is to question the CO and play devil’s advocate. But it seemed clear from Sven’s tone of voice that the Captain was serious. He didn’t agree with John’s plan to attack right away. There were a few other doubtful faces in the crowd as well. Turning back to look at the map, John counted to ten to make sure he remained calm and his “leader face” was in place. Then he turned back to face the gathered officers and non-comms. “There are several reasons. One is I don’t want to loose momentum. We have it and the pirates don’t. Another is that I don’t want to give them all night to come up with the idea of destroying information we could sorely use. A third is so they have less time to destroy any valuable salvage. Plus I don’t want to spend a few days trying to chase down a bunch of pirates that took to hiding in the trees and hills. Not to mention….” John made himself pause as he realized his tone was starting to rise in anger. Misplaced anger. He wasn’t angry with loyal soldiers who were just doing what they should be doing – considering the welfare of those under their direct command. He angry with the universe in general for taking Ranger and maiming Gracie and killing and hurting all those others now laying in either dull gray freezer units or the medical ward. He was angry at these Yu-shan pirates in particular. John looked hard at the hushed and expectant faces that were peering back at him. He’d misled and hidden facts from them a number of times since this had all started for the sake of mission security and protecting his sister’s continued existence from the Yu-shan. The faked scenarios when he had slipped away to find his sister. Keeping his sister’s identity hidden all those months of training. Osmo Wood’s connection to WolfNet. The nature and location of this campaign. And still they followed him. Sure, everything he’d kept secret had been in the name of security. But they’d earned as much honesty as possible from him with their blood, sweat and sacrifices. “Not to mention,” he continued again in a calmer tone, “that I have to admit that my main reason has little to do with tactics or security. Like many of you, I’ve lost and had hurt close personal friends on this island. I’m horrified by those slave camps they kept. I’m dumbfounded by some of the riches they have plundered like that space yacht over there. We’ve tangled with pirates before but the scale of this outfit…it’s not just piracy. It’s organized evil. It might be wrong but I can’t stand the thought of those sick bastards sitting among their stolen goods for one more minute longer than necessary. “But I am forced to admit that I can’t prove it is militarily necessary for us to go in after them at the earliest opportunity. I know most of you have suffered losses and it may be too soon to ask some of our people to fight again when it’s not tactically required. Thus this one will be on a volunteer basis. At sixteen-thirty local time this afternoon I am going to be standing outside the walls of that HQ because it’s what I have to do. I’ll welcome anyone who wants to come fight with me one more time today.” MechWarrior Basem Dhafar had been waiting for an opportunity to redeem himself for having shown doubt about his leader’s decisions earlier. His part in the morning engagement had been competent but nothing that duty hadn’t required. He was quick to show the others that he followed the Lt. Colonel with reservation. “I would be honored if you would accept my humble assistance Al-Linna,” he responded with a formal Draconis Combine bow. “They killed my husband only hours ago. I’m not done with them yet Sir,” chipped in Tainia from the Warder air wing. “I’m with you Lieutenant Colonel.” “I believe I speak for the entire aerospace section when I say we’ll be there for you Sir,” added Major Tapiovarra, commander of the aerospace wing. “Hell Sir, I barely got warmed up in that tussle this morning,” chimed in MechWarrior Keena Johnson. “I’m in.” “I owe them for Ranger,” agreed Jason Nelson darkly. Sven looked over in concern at the young MechWarrior who had just spoken. Jason had bonded with Frank Parks like a younger brother and the younger ‘Warrior had taken Frank’s death very hard. Sven had been hit hard by Frank’s loss as well, but Sven had lost friends in combat before. It didn’t make it any more easier to accept, but experience did lend a hand with dealing with it. At least with Jason the revenge need was understandable. But Sven new that the L-C had lost more people close to him than most people could imagine. Had John finally reached the breaking point where his heart was over burdened and his mind clouded? MechWarrior Naoko shared Sven’s concern that it wasn’t worthwhile to push the troops at this time. But she loved John and wouldn’t fail to support him now. By Combine standard he wasn’t asking for anything totally unreasonable and it might be one less demon haunting his dreams once the Yu-shan were totally shut down. “I stand beside you Lieutenant Colonel Linna-san,” she said. But by then her voice was lost in the others pledging their willingness to fight. Sven Jorgensen listed to it all without surprise. The moment Sven had realized where John was going with his little speech Sven knew what the result would be. There certainly wasn’t any doubt about what Gracie would say if she could be here. She’d be climbing into her ‘Mech already. And truth be told Sven couldn’t positively claim that hitting the HQ before night fell was necessarily a bad idea. In for a penny, in for a Fin-mark Sven mused in resignation. “We all go together,” he said to his two remaining lance mates as he rested a huge hand on Basem’s and Jason’s shoulders. The HQ assault was practically a textbook example of storming a defensive position. With overwhelming force, the Warder BattleMechs and heavy tanks advanced just into firing range of the wall defenses and started pounding the HQ. With the pirate turrets occupied by the advancing armored units the aerospace fighters made their run and took out the generator and one of the remaining pirate ‘Mechs before the poorly organized pirates even fired a shot into the sky. With part of John’s goal being to make sure some other pirate group didn’t just move in later, the Warder units blasted away at the wall itself long after all the pirate gun emplacements had been silenced. When there was nothing but rubble stretched between the cliff edges the ‘Mechs and tanks advanced. John was the first into the compound, stepping on the shattered gate and with a pair of medium lasers silenced a machine gun in a makeshift bunker that was clattering harmlessly away at him. He almost snorted in contempt as a 25 ton industrial ‘Mech designed to facilitate BattleMech and AgroMech repair trundled towards him attempting to use it’s arc welder and a giant drill as melee weapons. Industrial ‘Mechs were not fit for combat duty, but it would make a useful salvage find. A single blast from his PPC took one of the machine’s legs out from under it and it crashed to the dirt. Basem managed to corner the last pirate ‘Mech with his Grand Dragon. The pirate ‘Mech which surrendered and shut down after basem blew off one of it’s arms and seriously damaged the left torso. John was moving in to support and his off hand ‘nice shooting Sirocco’ comment gave the young MechWarrior far greater pleasure than the surrender of his foe. All resistance within the HQ compound died off swiftly in the face of so many BattleMechs standing around waiting to atomize anything that dared fight. That left the main building, a four story affair with three separate wings. As they needed the contents of that structure intact no one had fired on it. Sandbags and discarded BattleMech parts barricaded at the main doors informed the Warder troops that the pirates intended to make a last stand within. John carefully used a medium laser to blast away the barricades while doing minimal damage to the entrance then called in the infantry. Armored troopers poured out of the landing VTOLs. The last phase of the fight belonged to them. It was a nasty room to room shoot out but superior armor and numbers let the Warder infantry bring the fighting to a close within twenty minutes while taking only a few casualties. The second set of data Zou’s letter had promised was on his desk in the form of another disc. Zou’s servants, who took no part in the bitter hallway fighting, were eager to please the victors and took Sergeant Cascade to the Councilor’s chambers without hesitation. She discovered a bloody mess in the bed chamber where the pirate’s negotiator with the outside universe had blown his own face off with a sawed off shotgun rather than face capture. That saved the Warders from having to ship him off for eventual trial but Sammi knew the L-C would be unhappy about loosing the chance to question the man. All in all though, the Sergeant felt that the universe had become a slightly better place. Her attention snapped back to getting a status update on her troopers. The Warder MechWarriors were gathered around a portable table. The mood was a mixed affair of excitement at victory and somberness over lost comrades. But the business of being a fighting mercenary unit had to continue. They were debriefing the engagement between Naoko, Keena, Misty and the pirate lance that had attacked them when Captain Woods slipped into the tent from the dirty rain that was falling outside. “Sorry to interrupt Sir but you wanted my analysis as soon as it was complete,” announced Woods. “Can you give us the highlights Osmo?” John invited. He trusted his intel officer to not mention anything that shouldn’t be shared openly with the gathered MechWarriors. It flashed through John’s mind to realize the irony in that trust. Just before this campaign launched John had been considering running Osmo out of the unit for continuing his ties to Wolf’s Dragoons. “Certainly Sir. We were able to read the cracked disc and it had the same information as the one from the HQ. The earlier information we have from Hamano, my investigation into the stolen Flashmans, the surviving Blitzkrieg members, and information from the kidnapping attempt on your daughter fit with the information Zou provided. It appears that Zou did not know that Holly had survived and thus assumed that we found his pirate haven because an employer had betrayed him to us. The very same employer that was behind the Starcade attack and has been trying to kill you through assassination.” “The name!” demanded Holly Linna in a growl. Every since she had been abducted from that ship where her parents had been killed, her life had been centered around only one thing. To kill the people responsible. Osmo looked to John, who gave a slight negative shake of his head. He’d share the information with the command team but had to keep security in mind until a plan had been made. As John was aching to know himself, it took a good portion of will power to wave Osmo off for the moment. “It seems that a corporate entity is behind our problems since Hamano and perhaps bankrolled the Starcade massacre. Zou’s data does not name the ring leader, but there is sufficient information that once we get someplace where I can tap into the open StarCom databases regarding corporate ownership and transactions I can put a name to the master mind behind all of this.” “So how long until we drop again?” Holly wanted to know as she looked to her brother. John sat quietly for a moment. All these years; chasing rumors, following up dead end links. And now he knew. Or would know as soon as he grabbed a moment alone with Osmo. The murderer of his parents, kidnapper of his sister and threat to his daughter had a name. If they could trust Zou’s informational “present”. Maybe it was just fatigue as he hadn’t slept in over 32 hours now but the information bounced around inside him without having any strong emotion cling to it. Nothing but a solid determination that something would be done one way or another. “We’ll have to go home first. Find out who and where he is, what kind of guards or accomplices he has, and so forth. If he’s on an established plant as I suspect he will be then we won’t be able to just drop in with a ship full of BattleMechs.” “You’re not backing out now are you?” accused Holly. John sighed heavily. “No. I’m just saying that we can’t just run off and invade Inner Sphere planets. There are huge political and economic issues involved.” “Maybe that matters to you. But not to me!” declared his sister. “Are we done here? I’m tired of listening to the pointless droning that’s been going on.” John could tell by Osmo’s face that there was something else he wanted to add. Something that John wasn’t going to like. This recap session was shot now anyway. All he would be able to think about was who his secret nemesis might be. “Sure, dismissed Lieutenant Linna.” “Thank you Sir,” Holly replied, her tone making it clear she meant none of the three words she had just uttered as she stormed off in a huff. “Our apologies Sir,” offered MechWarrior Inra Bahti of Holly’s ‘Mech lance. “This information has given a focus to her rage. She just needs to cool off and…” “Slam a few inanimate objects around?” finished John. “I can relate. Osmo, there seems to be something additional and unpleasant you want to share.” “Although Zou did not reveal anything about his assassin ring, he provided quite a number of details on this corporation’s operations starting with when we first got entangled in the these affairs at Hamano. They were playing both sides against the middle at Hamano. They bankrolled and organized the anti-Combine protestors while backing the pirates and taking payments from the local Combine leadership to take steps to eradicate the very protestors they secretly fronted. I surmise that eventually they would have pinned the blame – either for leading the protestors or killing the protestors – on the Emir of Hamano. That would have removed a potent competitor for electronic gear from the region and taken a willful local Lord out of the way of the conservative Combine Warlord that rules that region. Involved in all of this are some Black Dragon members that Zou provided the names of and an outline of some of their operations. It seems that a few ComStar people are involved as well. What we have is documentation of treason against the Draconis Combine, the kind of information that gets people killed just for knowing it exists.” “And the kind of information that can’t be trusted to send via ComStar and would be of vital interest to the Coordinator,” observed John quietly. While the Warders were FWL based and had little direct interest in Combine affairs, John had immediately grasped the personal implications of what Captain Woods was telling him. Naoko felt her chest squeeze so hard that she felt as if she could barely breathe. When the Coordinator’s son had intervened on her behalf against the old line officers persecuting her she had been posted to the Warders as a liaison officer studying training techniques. It was merely a ploy to keep her out of harms way for a while, one she had taken to willingly. No specific tour of duty had been mentioned, but in a silent part of her heart she had known that the day would arrive when she would return to her home. It was her giri. Her duty as samurai to the Dragon. “Then make a copy of the Combine related material for Chu-i Fujiwara,” John told Osmo after a short pause to look at Naoko who was staring very hard at the table top. “If terrorists are actively plotting against the Coordinator then it is her duty as a soldier of the DCMS to deliver that information to the proper authorities.” Naoko finally looked at John’s drawn face, a tear or two forcing their way past her struggle to remain stoic. “John…I never meant…” He placed a hand over one of hers on the table and squeezed lightly. “I know Naoko. We both knew this day would come even if we didn’t want to admit it. We’ll talk later.” John’s gaze switched to Lt. Dhafar. “Basem, this matter is also directly of concern to you and your father the Emir. I would consider it a personal favor if you would go with Naoko back to Luthien. She’ll need a trustworthy companion to watch her back.” “Sir,” Basem answered huskily through the emotions swirling through him, “Your trust in me will not be misplaced. I vow that she shall see no harm and the information will make it to the hands of the Coordinator if I must deliver both to the Coordinator in person.” “Thank you Basem. I know you’ll both get the job done. Now, all things considered I think we’ll call this session. Good day to you all. Don’t forget about the memorial service tonight.” John stood and the others did as well, coming to attention as they faced him. He waved a salute and made his way for the tent flap on legs that felt wooden. Outside he waited a moment and Naoko appeared, looking as shaken up as he felt. With a bittersweet smile he offered her his hand. At least the rain had stopped and a few rays of sunlight were piercing the ash clouds above. Within the tent the others sank back to their seats quietly, lost in their own thoughts for the moment. Captain Woods made his way out unnoticed. An unfamiliar voice broke the silence from the tent flap asking for MechWarrior Nellson. Jason looked up and grinned as he recognized Trooper Bronski. But his grin faltered at the grim set of Bronski’s face. “Sergeant Cascade wanted to come tell you herself, but she’s been tied up by unexpected circumstances. It’s just that ..well,…Jenkins had told us that if anything happened to him he wanted you to have this.” The veteran trooper stepped over to the table and placed an engineering section uniform pin with the ship name Starcade embossed upon the silver decoration down before Jason. “Jenkins didn’t have any next of kin and wanted a fellow spacer to have it,” added Bronski. “But he can’t be…I mean how?” Bronski mistook Jason’s question to be about how it happened rather than how could it be that another of Jason’s friends was suddenly dead. “Chan got hit in the legs and went down in a hallway. They tossed a grenade at Chan so Jenkins jumped out there and covered Chan with his own body. The blast shredded their body armor but Jenkins still got up and dragged Chan back around the corner with bullets and lasers whizzing all around him. He took a couple hits in the back but didn’t collapse until Chan was clear.” Jason’s mouth worked open and closed but nothing came out. His mind was overloaded. How could such a thing be? The HQ fight had been such a pushover. Not a real battle at all. “I’m sorry to have to bring you the bad news Sir. I know the two of you had clicked. For what it’s worth, we all liked him. He was a good kid.” Not having anything more to say, the trooper turned to retreat from the somber group of MechWarriors. “Wait!,” Jason suddenly called. “Before you go…what was his first name? He never told me.” A thin smile touched Bronski’s lips as he recalled the lengths Jenkins had gone in trying to keep others from calling him by his given first name. “He was a little embarrassed by it so he didn’t toss it around much. But his name was Barney. Barney Jenkins. It’s a damn fine name if you ask me Sir.” Jason could only nod in agreement as he had lost his voice. He got up in a daze a little later and wandered outside. He wasn’t sure where he was going. Wasn’t sure if he needed to vomit or not. Wasn’t sure about anything really. After a while he just stopped where he was, which happened to be next to a small building, and stood there with his forehead leaning against it and his eyes shut against the pain. Not that clenched eyes were of much help. He could still clearly see the faces of the dead. Eventually Jason realized that someone was standing next to him. He rolled his head to one side and risked a peek to see who it was. Sven Jorgensen was leaning his back against the wall, patiently gazing off across the airfield. Jason closed his eyes again and waited but Sven didn’t move. The big man’s presence was a palatable aura. A somewhat comforting one actually. Finally Jason just started talking mournfully into the wall, not sure if he was talking to himself or to Lawman. “None of it means anything! Ranger’s dead, Barney Jenkins is dead, a bunch of other people are dead. Or had their whole foot torn off. Or got actually torn to pieces. But Captain McGee and his rotten Zues crew is still cruising around out there in his DropShip and some corporation bad guys are still sitting fat and happy someplace after causing all of this and there’s always more pirates where these came from. Didn’t the good guys win here? Doesn’t feel much like a win to me. Hell, the Lieutenant Colonel doesn’t even get to keep his girlfriend because some loonies with rank and title want to mess with the Coordinator. What’s the whole point? Revenge? I don’t want to fight for revenge Lawman. Money? Then I might as well have become a pirate myself when I had the chance. Or just sell my BattleMech. I just don’t get what any of it means. Nothing makes sense.” Sven considered a moment, then gently turned the youngster to face him and simply urged the younger man to “Follow me.” Lawman took Jason out to where he had glimpsed some activity on the main taxiway. The children and a few of the younger ex-hostages were chasing a football around, kicking it and laughing as they splashed through the puddles. “This is the best answer I can give you,” said Lawman as he pointed towards the frolicking youngsters. “These people have been delivered from a living nightmare. Those kids have learned that while the boogeyman may be real, so is the Knight in Shining Armor. Our friends and comrades spilled their blood so that those kids could grow up and maybe not need to become soldiers themselves some day. And these are just the ones we can see. Who knows how many families will not be shattered, how many lives won’t get wasted in the future because of the blood we leaked onto this world’s soil yesterday. Relieved parents and laughing children both here and all across the Inner Sphere is why I climb into a ‘Mech cockpit. Other people have different reasons. I sometimes think Keena just likes the excitement for example. But I know that Ranger piloted for the same reasons I do. Look Jason, no one can ever fathom why some people live and others get killed. But you can decide why you are a MechWarrior. Or why you choose not to be one. I know I can’t help the whole universe. But I know that I can help a few and that the ripples of my helping those few will generate far more return over the years than the effort I spent in the first place. The ripples of Frank’s and Barney’s lives will resonate forever in the lives and offspring of countless others.” Jason watched the youngsters for a long time. Looked at from Lawman’s perspective it wasn’t a matter of a handful of hostages in exchange for a handful of Warder lives. It was entire generations of people that Parks and Jenkins had fought and died for. From that perspective it seemed like something worth him fighting for too. “Hey Lawman. Do you think the L-C knows all this ripple stuff too?” Jason asked. “Sometimes I wonder how he copes with everything that’s been dumped on him in his life.” “I’d say it’s a safe bet Racker. First because he has a daughter of his own to remind him. And second, look over there.” Jason looked in the direction Sven was pointing. Tucked out of the way by the corner of a hangar stood John and Naoko linked arm in arm. They were just standing there unnoticed, silently watching the children play ball. Doctor Sengali rubbed at his eyes and looked away from the computer screen to reach over and pour himself another glass of water. He’d been updating the patient files. The one still open before him regarded the young Clan woman that Sergeant Cascade had brought in. ‘Nikki Nova Cat’ read the heading at the top of the file as by Clan tradition, the teenager had no last name. As the Doctor understood things, a Clan warrior had to earn a surname – what they called Bloodnames – in some sort of ritualistic battle. The girl was mildly under nourished and was bruised and scraped from head to toe but other than her inability to speak was in good shape. Physically anyway. Psychologically the doctor had no clue what to think. Communicating via a keyboard and monitor he had discovered that she had an atypical response to the abuse she had endured. She was heavily annoyed at the forced “coupling” as she had termed it but was more confused as to why any Inner Sphere barbarian would even want to do so with her than traumatized by the event. What had seriously upset her was the fact her captors had not treated her as a military captive but as what she termed a ‘low caste laborer’. Having no understanding of non-Clan ways her lack of comprehension of her fate had been eating away at her more that what was actually happening to her physically. Sergeant Cascade’s decision to treat the youngster as a bondsman had settled most of those anxieties. Nikki now had an anchor to center her reality around. One that seemed to tie into a dream of some sort she had. It seemed that despite their spartan and stoic military ways these Nova Cats have some sort of spiritual beliefs. The Warder Lion insignia had symbolic meaning that was comforting to the patient’s psyche. The Doctor doubted that anyone he knew would be able to serve as an adequate therapist for the young woman as her belief system did not match those familiar to him in his region of space. Luckily it seemed that the Sergeant’s gruff military bearing and limited knowledge of Clan ways was all the counseling the teen aged Clan girl would need to recover from the psychological damage of the captivity. As to the speech impediment itself, Doctor Sengali was pretty sure that it was caused by brain damage from a serious blow the girl had taken sometime before she was sold to the Yu-shan. There was evidence in her X-ray scans of a healed fracture in her skull. Diagnosing or repairing the damage was beyond his skills. He was a trauma surgeon and general practitioner. But he was pretty sure that a competent neurosurgeon and some therapy could restore her speech. “Excuse me Doc.” Sengali blinked and looked up to find John Linna standing before his desk in the medical bay of the DropShip. “Oh, hello John. I was lost in thought a moment. It’s good to see you, what can I do for you?” “If it’s okay with you I’d like to visit with Gracie for a little while,” he replied. “I’d like her to get more rest. Captain Jorgensen only left just a few minutes ago. But I suppose I should expect the string of visitors to continue,” he sighed. “Go ahead. But she’s a little groggy from the medications I have her on. There’s a mild infection I want to shut down before it induces much fever and she’s been having issues with phantom pain. She didn’t want me to knock her out totally but she’s on painkillers that make her drowsy.” “I’ve read the report Doc, but what’s your take? How’s she doing?” “As you know, I had to remove the foot to save her life. It was a clean job leaving good nerve endings and the ankle structure remains so there should be no problems with attaching an artificial foot. When we can get back someplace capable of doing that kind of work that is. She prides herself on being a tough bird and talks like she’s only suffered a minor flesh wound. But something’s bothering her besides just loosing her foot. You know Gracie though. She’s not talking about it.” “Yeah, I know how she can be Doc. Thanks, I promise I won’t be too long because I have two memorial services to attend.” John walked down the ward of six beds. Most of the injured where in the main medical tent. The Doctor had moved the cases requiring special monitoring inside the DropShip med bays. Three of these beds were empty, but one held a young technician that was in a coma following head injuries after falling off a ‘Mech cradle in the Mechbay while another held a sleeping infantrymen recovering from two hours of chest and abdominal surgery after a heavy machine gun burst had struck him. It was a minor miracle he was still alive despite the body armor he had worn. Gracie was in the corner bed with her head drooped down. A reader pad was on her stomach, still gripped in one hand. He tried not to look but he couldn’t help it. His eyes swept over the bottom of her bed where the sheeting rose once at the end of one leg but not for the other. Slipping quietly to her bedside he saw that she had dozed off after all. Ranger’s red lion coin was on it’s chain around her neck. The reader was still on and turning his head sideways a bit he could see that it was displaying the preliminary after action reports from the BattleMech engagement. He carefully slipped the reader from under her hand and turned it off. He’d come back later. Setting it down on her bed stand he turned to go. “John?” “Shhh,” he hushed gently. “Rest now. I’ll come back later.” Gracie pushed herself up a little higher in the bed. “Nah, I’ve already had my fill of resting. I’m not tired, it’s just the drugs make it hard to concentrate for very long.” He sat down on a stool that had been left by her bedside. “We wrapped up the HQ and have started salvage operations. About a thousand things going on right now – you know how it is. I just wanted to come see how you were doing.” “Not too shabby all things considered,” she replied darkly. Though an intuitive and skilled healer, Doctor Sengali was not a MechWarrior. John was, and knew instinctively what Gracie’s unspoken worry was. He reached over and gripped her hand. “Don’t worry Gracie. Plenty of pilots jockey a ‘Mech around with bionic replacement parts. You’re not done in the cockpit unless you decide you want to be done.” “Yeah but what if I don’t mesh right with a new foot. It happens sometimes. What if I can’t operate the pedals right?” “Then I’ll design a new control configuration for you that only requires one foot. I promise Gracie – you’re a MechWarrior with the Warders for as long as you want to be one. My word on that.” “Thanks John. I know I’m probably worrying about nothing but I mean look at Ben. He can’t pilot anymore. I respect him very much and I know it sounds bad to say, but I can’t drive a tank like he does. I’m a MechWarrior. It’s all I’ve ever been and all I have.” “His case was different. He has nerve damage and inner ear issues. Doctor Sengali says you’re a prime candidate for bionics. We’ll take care of it. You’ll be stomping around like a giant again in no time.” “Thanks,” she sighed. “I’ve read the report and have a general idea what happened…but you were there at the end. I know that Frank’s C3 signal went out. How could he have finished off that Atlas?” “Zou had trashed Ranger pretty bad, bad enough that most of the Bushwhacker’s cockpit electronics had shorted out. But Zou made the mistake of leaving him for dead. Ranger managed to trail after him on backup systems and hit him in the back when Zou was maneuvering to finish you off. They exchanged fire again after Zou turned. Ranger punched through where the armor was already damaged and did more internal damage. But his Bushwhacker was so trashed it wasn’t up to another LRM barrage. He died in his cockpit. Zou punched out as I came down on my jets into the bowl.” “Damn heroic hot shot fool,” sighed Gracie in a husky voice as she struggled to keep her composure. “He took on an Archer and an Atlas and beat them both but paid for it. It was my fault, I should have been able to support him. He wouldn’t have even tried it if I hadn’t been stuck. And I tried to get Leena to bail but at the very end I don’t even know if she could hear me just before that bastard Zou whacked her. God I would have loved to been there when he got torn limb from limb….” “There’s no point in blaming yourself Gracie. They blew up the entire hill out from under you. I still have no idea how you managed to practically surf that Awesome to the bottom in one piece. And we’re talking about the Ranger-Man here. He would have gone after that Atlas anyway. Besides, if there’s any blame it’s mine. I could have ordered him off. But we both knew that the only chance you and Leena had was for Ranger to try to delay Zou.” John still had trouble making himself say his friend’s name. Her free hand gripped the coin strung around her neck. “I know. But damn I’m going to miss him.” “Me too Gracie,” sighed John, “Me too. Look, I’ve got to run. The Bhati sisters are having a service of some sort for Leena and then later Pastor Curtis is on deck. When you’re feeling better go into your personal folder. There is an ‘eye’s only’ synopsis of what we know so far about the guy that was paying Zou. I’ve got a lot on my plate but I’ll swing by again as soon as I can. Take care of yourself Gracie.” “Well, at least as long as I’m laid up here Sven has to do all the XO paperwork,” she replied. “Hey listen….thanks for stopping by. And thanks for pulling me out of Granny. You probably did as much to save me in my shattered cockpit as Frank did on the battlefield.” “No, I just lent a minor assist. Heck, you were about to pull yourself out of there anyway.” “Liar,” she snorted. “I wasn’t going anywhere.” They both looked up as several voices piped up at the entrance to the medical bay. “Looks like your lance has come calling,” observed John. “I better go.” “Okay. Catch you later John. And I know you Lieutenant Colonel Duck – don’t try to be everywhere and do everything. Get some sleep. You look worse than I do.” He just smiled and nodded before turning away. John passed Naoko, Keena, and Misty at the front where they were trying to argue their way past the Doctor. With John’s assurance that Gracie was awake and waiting for them the Doctor relented and let the trio pass. John noted that they had a big bunch of the local flowers in a vase made from the spent brass of an autocannon round. He probably should have thought of something like that. Next time he promised himself. A short time later Inra and Yawni were lighting extra candles as Holly Linna knelt on a throw pillow. They were in the recreation room of one of the two airfield barracks. Holly was in her field jumpsuit while the sisters were dressed in baggy pantaloons and a mid-drift bearing type of blousy halter top. Each was trimmed with gold fringe with Yawni’s outfit being blue and Inra’s red. It occurred to Holly that she probably should have paid more attention to the sister’s religious beliefs. She knew that the older sister Inra was some sort of official priestess of their Goddess while Yawni was a certified assistant. Their Goddess could only be named twice a year in a special ceremony that Holly had always taken a pass on. Leena had never shown any interest in anything religious either, but now Holly had come to feel that if it this was important to her lancemates then she would participate as well. Despite her lack of understanding, Holly had to admit that she felt somewhat comforted by the proceeds. A sense of closure loomed. It was somehow calming Which itself was an unusual experience for Holly. Every since her escape from her captors years ago she had basically had three emotional states. Simmering anger, burning anger, and raging white hot anger. That was about the extend of her emotional range. She had burned out remorse, fear, joy, and all the others feelings of life as unnecessary baggage for her cause. Revenge. Or so she had thought anyway. She knew that the loyalty that had been forged amongst her lance mates was basically a hedge against adversity. Even while relishing the bond between them, she was shamed to admit to herself that she would have left them behind for this chance to strike at the Yu-shan had the others not wanted to leave the Black Warriors. In an abstract way she knew that there was a sense of camaraderie between the four of them despite the occasional bickering. On the few rare occasions when Holly had allowed herself to be introspective she had the dim awareness that she had felt something …special …. about Leena. Not that either one of them had been equipped to explore true friendship much less anything more powerful. Their young lives had been about anything you had loved being destroyed or turning against you. Love only brought pain and was for the weak. Yet as she had spent more and more time on the planet of her birth, around places and people that still resonated with warm memories from her childhood, it had become harder to keep the mental barriers in place. She had found herself wanting to remember the sound of her mother’s voice, the strong embrace of her father. The joyous buzz of a family holiday. The heartfelt laughter of running through a meadow in the late summer sun. She still hadn’t figured out why the most vivid moment locked in her memories was a romp through a meadow chasing butterflies. It hadn’t even been her birthday or a holiday. It was just a random day not unlike many others from before she was taken off with her family on the Starcade. A moment that seemed to be etched forever into her mind. Holly had known that her three comrades had sensed a change trying to take place in her. But Holly hadn’t wanted to change. She wanted the fire burning in her gut, the knowledge that she was tougher than anything the universe could throw at her. To believe that she was beyond pain, that nothing could touch her. Nothing could stop her. She had pulled back from anything resembling social contact with her brothers or the Warders after the first few weeks back home to remove the distractions. On the long trip out here she had even started withdrawing from her own lance. She knew she could count on them to back her play as they always had. Maybe when the fighting was over they could all go get drunk and say the few buddy-buddy things they said and be ready for the next round of them against the universe. Except Leena was gone. A charred and deformed neurohelmet, the blackened and shriveled soles of her flame resistant boots, and a small pile of ash that was probably more seat and cooling vest than skin and bone was all that remained of her friend. Her friend. Holly doubted she had ever even called Leena ‘friend’. The fires of vengeance and anger should be here to comfort Holly, but they had not burned brightly nor brought comfort. There was only loss and remorse. “Welcome Lieutenant Colonel. You honor us,” said Inra’s voice. Holly blinked, realizing that she had closed her eyes and drifted off in thought. She wondered how much time she had been knelt in ‘meditation’. If her thoughts could be counted as meditation of any sort. “The honor is mine…eh…I’m afraid I don’t know what the proper form of addressing you or your sister is under these circumstances,” replied John. Holly winced slightly as she realized she didn’t know either. And she had never bothered to think about it much less ask. “In English ‘Seer’ is close enough while my sister is an acolyte of the Second Order. In the Goddess’ presence we have special Worship Names. We have chosen to use them as our War Names as well,” supplied Inra. Holly realized that there was much she had made herself oblivious to. She had not known that either. “Then the honor is mine Seer Death Dancer and Acolyte Flame,” allowed John solemnly with a half bow – half nod motion. “I know nothing of your traditions or ceremonies. What should I do?” “The Goddess does not ask for much by way of ceremony,” explained Yawni. “In fact, this rite is to implore the Goddess to consider taking Leena’s spirit into her celestial host. My sister and I will meditate and fast for six hours to represent the strength of our devotion to the request. After the opening rite we are about to perform any who wish to speak of Leena Calahan are invited to do so. You do her great honor by visiting Sir. The higher the rank of those that speak for her the greater the d’harma.” John had no clue what d’harma was, but it was obviously something the sisters considered of spiritual value for the departed. He knelt on the throw pillow that Yawni motioned to and waited quietly as the sister unlocked a small chest and brought out several bladed weapons that went on special stands they placed on the makeshift alter around a semi-melted neurohelmet that John assumed was a grizzly artifact from Leena’s fire gutted cockpit. Inra spoke several rhyming phrases in a language unfamiliar to John as Yawni kept a rhythmic tempo going with a small tambourine. Then after a forceful invocation of some sort, the Seer switched back to English. “Great Goddess, Echo of Strife and Spirit of War, know that this fallen warrior has no ethereal ties. She had not pledged her soul to Allah, nor made peace with the Buddhas, nor sought the salvation of Christ, nor followed the word of Blake, nor adhered to the teachings of any Deity or Power known or unknown to us. We ask therefor that you bring Swiftwind to the gates of your Astral Realm and offer her inclusion into your Eternal Ranks. We have observers to this rite that are here to speak their hearts about the fallen.” There were only two people present, himself and his sister. She hadn’t even so much as nodded at him so John wasn’t sure if he should speak or wait for her. The uncomfortable moment stretched out, then without preamble Holly suddenly started talking. “I should be able to tell you what kind of person Leena was. But I can’t. Because I never really found out. But I can tell you that she followed me into dangerous situations without complaint many times and I repaid her loyalty by getting her killed. I don't know what Leena believed in. I don’t even know what I believe in. But if you see her spirit out there somewhere do what you can for her. She deserves far better than what she got from me. And tell her…tell her…let her know that I think I loved her and that I’m sorry…” Holly slumped her head down and could say no more. There was no crying or sobbing left in her tortured soul for even a lost friend. But right now there was no more energy left in her either. She was spent, burned out by a swirl of emotions she was unprepared to deal with. John stared at his sister in open amazement for a brief moment. He hadn’t seen anything approaching this type of emotional response from his sister in the entire time since he had rediscovered her. He hadn’t seen her so … human. He ached to try to comfort her. He wondered if she would even let him try. But he shook off the surprise to focus on the ceremony. John had years of practice stuffing his own emotions into a back corner of his mind so that he could perform the tasks required of a commander. In fact he had far more practice eulogizing fallen soldiers than he would ever want. And he knew there would be more eulogizing in his future. “MechWarrior Swiftwind was a bit of a pain in the rear end, stubborn, and not very good in the respecting authority department,” John began as he addressed the alter area in a firm voice, “but on the battlefield she was bold and fearless, eager to engage the enemy and loyal to her comrades. When the situation was dire rather than take action to save herself she faced daunting odds to safeguard a fellow MechWarrior who was down and vulnerable. It was a brave and selfless action that cost her life. Like Leena, I’m just a mortal human. But if you don’t mind me presuming to talk to You as a fellow Commanding Officer, then as Leena Calahan’s C.O. by contract extension I am formally endorsing her for consideration in Your command. And if You would, convey my deepest gratitude to her for her service and sacrifice here.” Inra and Ywani completed the ceremony and then escorted their two visitors to the exit of the small storage building they had commandeered for their makeshift prayer area. Both sisters were excited by John’s words, assuring him that much d’harma had been acquired by Leena’s spirit through John’s direct endorsement as one CO to another. The Goddess would be impressed they assured him. They knew he had other duties to attend to and were most thankful that he had taken the time to come speak for a ‘Warrior he had hardly known. John tried to speak with his sister but she turned her shoulder to him, looking away into the dusk. “I was her direct commander, I should have done what you did. Thanks for rubbing my nose in my continued mistakes,” spat Holly. “Holly, I wasn’t trying to make anyone look bad. I was just shooting from the hip and thankfully came up with the right thing to say. Believe me, I know what it’s like to loose someone close to you.” She knew that. They had the same slain parents after all. But anger was her only coping mechanism. “Yeah, you know what just about everything is like don’t you,” she sighed. “Look, just leave me alone right now. I’ve got a lot on my mind.” Holly marched off determinedly in a randomly picked direction. John watched her go sensing that it would do no good to pursue her. He felt a hand tentatively touch his elbow and turned to find Inra Bahti standing at his side. “She will be all right in the short term Sir. She’ll go kick some stuff around, then have a few beers and fall asleep in her bunk needing to cry but not letting herself. We’ll talk to her after our observation period is over. What she has built herself to be is starting to become useless. Her vengeance is almost complete. Things she had suppressed for a long time are fighting to surface. It will be a trying time for her. I do not think that you will be able to help much, though your desire to do so reverberates from your spirit.” “Tell me something I don’t know,” John sighed. “Look after her as best you can okay?” “We will,” Yawni assured him. John took his leave, seeing by his watch that he had a little time to kill before being at Pastor Curtis’ service for the departed. He wandered the camp in the growing darkness, trying to be unobtrusive whenever possible. Under a tarp he passed Basem and a few others that shared his faith on their prayer rugs, carefully aligned to face Terra for their evening prayers. In another area a group of men from Coleson’s Orb were playing their jaunty dance tunes on a tunebox and doing that deep knee bend dance with the kicks. He could hear the light tom tom sound of the drums of the Amerindian tribesmen that had been hired as combat engineers drifting out of the darkness. It was they who had cut the defensive line to the north so quickly early this morning. Some of his people were working, others at leisure as he ghosted along catching snatches of several different languages and four different music types. More than half of those on the aerodrome base were from his own home planet. Still, the amount of cultural diversity that had grown within the Warders had passed unnoticed by him until this quiet moment. It was a good thing he thought. Certainly the newest Warders had fought as hard as the ones from Sampsa. The intangible something that bound them all together as one unit was almost palatable as he made his way towards where the Pastor would speak. But John’s concerns were many and he couldn’t help but slip towards more cynical thoughts and wonder if the only thing that could bind separate peoples together in common cause was warfare. Late that night Naoko blinked as the bright lights of the wardroom automatically turned on at her entrance to the empty chamber. The steward had cleared and stowed all the dishes and drinking pots long ago. Except for the tea cups and glasses on one table. The table Naoko had led the pre-battle tea ceremony, the Tea of the Dragon’s Tears, at. That table the wardroom’s steward had carefully left alone. She drifted up next to the table on silent feet, her eyes locked on the half full glass that Lieutenant Frank Parks had left to finish after the battle. All of the vessels on the table contained liquid still. Those that had participated had not bothered to return to close out the ceremony. They had been too busy with other duties. Naoko sank into the seat that had been hers and stared into the greenish colored tea in her cup. Despite the feeling of doom she had felt before the drop, she had returned physically unscathed. But emotionally she felt like a wreck. Not only had a good friend been lost in action and an officer she respected very much (even if she could not realistically count Major Aukland as a friend) had been gravely injured but the victory here had cost her a joy she had never really thought she would find. A young woman fighting the traditions of an ancient society to become a MechWarrior she had not considered the possibility of any love other than that of her love for the Combine and it’s people that she desired to serve. To find romantic love while in forced exile from the Coordinator’s service only to lose it by being compelled to respond to that same service was as ironic as it was agonizing. That John understood what her duty required and absolved her of any and all responsibility she might have towards helping the Warders with their current plight did not make her feel any less guilty for abandoning them. Or for leaving him. She sighed miserably, her head sinking down to be cradled in her hands. Her path was clear and she would follow it without faltering …but why must the road of honor bring with it so much pain? “Naoko?” ask a voice hesitantly. The Combine MechWarrior looked up to see her fellow pilots Misty and Basem standing in the open hatchway. “We..uh…never got around to finishing the ceremony,” added Misty. “Basem and I were thinking that maybe you would like to uh…you know….” “Complete the Tea of the Dragon’s Tears?” supplied Naoko. “Hai, it is good to finish what has been started when one has the opportunity. Please be seated and we will toast our good fortune in continuing the road of Bushido as warriors and salute those that can no longer walk that road with us.” Steven Ong watched from beneath the cover of the tree canopy as the last Warder DropShip lifted into the sky on bright plumes of thruster exhaust. When his second in command Tan Zou had failed to arrive at the meeting place Ong had assumed the man was dead. When it became apparent that the Warders were not putting any real effort into searching the island Steven had slipped in closer to their operations to see what he could discover. It seemed that Linna and his intel officer Woods had accepted the body he left in his bed as himself. It also seemed that they had believed the ruse that Zou was the actual leader of the Triad and the Starcade attack. Steven had been careful to not be seen by any of the pirates that had participated, leaving Zou to lead the strike force even though he himself had planned the raid. There had only been three of the pirates from the Starcade left alive other than Zou. If any of the three still lived, they would all attest to the same thing. They would be wrong, but they would all believe that Zou had been the man in charge. Steven had expected the mercenaries to lift off quickly after smashing the Yu-shan. Instead, Linna’s people had methodically salvaged as much war material as they could cram in their holds and destroyed the rest. It seemed that Zou had overestimated the numbers of the Warders. Two of the DropShips seemed to have been ferried in empty for the purpose of filling them with captured booty. Ong’s menagerie of hostages was taken as well as the surviving pirates and any dependants that wished to travel away with them. That had been a mild surprise as well. Ong had expected Linna to simply execute all prisoners or at the very least leave them stranded behind. They took the space yacht as well. There must have been enough extra spacers among the DropShip personnel to form a prize crew. This was a disappointment as Steven had hoped to use the craft himself. Now he would have to make his way by boat to the city and wait for the next DropShip visit. Not that it would really cost him any time. He still had to wait for the JumpShip to come around again before he could leave this miserable system anyway. He had been unable to determine where Linna’s unit was headed next. Most of the conversations he got close enough to listen to seemed to think the answer was home. While most of what he learned was useless, Steven had picked up an incredible piece of new information by lurking near the recovery crews. Holly Linna lived and was now with her brother as a MechWarrior. If he hadn’t already personally killed the idiots that had let her escape to what Ong had believed was her death, he would have tracked them down and done so again. The assassin leader wondered if Chairman Miller had somehow found her and used her as a lever to get John Linna to do his bidding. Or did she just show up one day out of the blue. Either way, it didn’t matter anymore. He had already pointed the Suomi Warders at Miller. It would be too late to try to divert them and as long as they believed him dead he had no reason to come to their attention once again. Steven Ong had other matters to attend to now. He would let the Linna-Miller thing simmer a while and see what became of it. As the DropShip disappeared through the dark ash floating in the sky Steven happened to glance down at the flag that had been left in the middle of the now burned out aerodrome. A spiteful man would have marched down there and stomped it into the ground and spit upon the engraved warning the Warders had left about the foolishness of pirates that tried to set up shop there again. Ong found the hubris behind the flag and plaque mildly amusing. He had certainly learned his lesson about the folly of setting up a pirate ‘Mech force. Perhaps that little display would dissuade others. But he doubted it. “Come in,” called John in response to the door chime. Osmo Woods let himself into the rented cabin on the grav deck of the customs station. “Good afternoon Sir. I know the send off is in a few hours but I have something new for you I thought you should hear about right away.” John looked up from his portable computer screen trying to get a hint from Osmo’s face whether this would be a “good” something or a “bad” something. There was a great deal going on at the moment. Some of the ex-hostages were leaving the Warder ship convoy to head off in various directions. The pirate prisoners and dependants were being trans-shipped to a DropShip that would take them and the evidence collected against them to Maxwell for trial. No original Starcade pirate had survived the fighting to be brought back to Sampsa. Presumably the few Starcade murderers left had decided it was better to go down fighting than be captured by the Warders. Plus the final preparations for the ‘send off’ as the parting had come to be termed were underway. Naoko, Basem, and the couple of DCMS personnel liberated on Yu-shan were boarding a ship to head back into the Combine and deliver their dangerous disc of information to the Coordinator’s office. John had been putting together ComStar directives to set up travel arrangements and make sure C-bills would be available for them during the trip. Not to mention that the transfer through vacuum of the two BattleMechs involved was going to be a tricky thing. Basim and Naoko owned their ‘Mechs and would be taking them when they left. John sincerely hoped the great machines would not be required during their trip. All the paperwork had kept his mind from dwelling on what was about to walk out of his life with those BattleMechs in about another day. “Lay it on me then,” John sighed after failing to detect a hint in either direction. “Jason brought me a set of ancient star-slides when we were on Yu-shan,” explained Osmo. “I was too busy at the time to look at them but yesterday I put some of my team to setting up a computer model to see what the charts might have on them. They identify an uninhabited star system that consists of debris rings from planets that never formed.” “And this is important right now because….?” Invited John impatiently. “That system is within FWL borders only two jumps from here. The alpha numeric coding on one of the slides indicates that a Star League facility is located in that system,” supplied Captain Woods. John didn’t share Osmo’s enthusiasm for the find. “Sounds like a wild goose chase to me. I’ll take a look at your findings after we’re done with everything here at the station. Anything new on Miller yet?” Before they had left Yu-shan John had learned from Osmo that the person the pirate leader had named as John’s enemy was one Chairman Edward Miller of the Rold Investment Group. Rold was a politically powerful and wealthy holding shell with many large companies under it’s control. John had actually been in the same meeting room as Miller years ago when DEW Industries had been bidding against a Rold company for a munitions manufacturing contract. He had exchanged polite conversation with his parent’s murderer. It was unfathomable. Osmo shook his head negatively. “I expect confirmation of his current location to bounce back to us within another day or two. We should have something before we leave the system.” John nodded and returned his attention back to the computer screen. “Very well. Thanks Captain.” Osmo started to go but stopped short as John suddenly called his name. “Yes sir?” asked the Captain. “There were about twenty three dependant minors that were family to the pirates on the shuttles we just sent to the surface right?” asked John. “Twenty two actually,” supplied Osmo. “Why do you ask?” “No real reason,” replied John quietly as he turned his gaze towards the star studded blackness outside the window in the small office. “I guess I was just wondering to myself…in ten or fifteen years is one of them going to come after me in revenge for killing their parents.” “Come in,” called Gracie as she struggled to get the artificial foot to snap into the ankle connection. The prosthetics that started at just above her ankle would likely be a permanent part of her. It connected to the severed tendons and some main nerve bundles. The foot itself was a place holder of sorts – just something to fill her boot until she could get an advanced device that could mimic most of what her natural foot had done. “Major Aukland,” started Naoko as the door slid open, “I was hoping we could talk alone before I go.” Gracie looked up in mild surprise at the identity of her visitor. There was an official send off in about forty minutes. Gracie had assumed that Naoko would be spending her last minutes with John. “Sure, come in and have a seat.” Gracie nodded toward the chair at the multipurpose desk area. The cabin was on the station’s grav deck, and while expensive to rent was not terribly large. The two women just about filled it as Gracie continued to sit on the foot of the bed. Naoko cleared her throat nervously. Things like this were harder than entering combat for some reason. “I just wanted to say that I regret that we could not have been closer friends. I…understand why, but I don’t regret loving John for one instant. Even with the sorrow caused by our parting. It may not mean much to you but I respect you a great deal. You are the officer and leader that I hope to be one day. I shall treasure what I have learned from you always.” “Er…um, I don’t know what to say,” stammered Gracie. “Thank you. I think you could probably find a better role model or two around here than me, but thanks. You’re already a fine officer in your own right though.” “Hai, there are many good role models in the Warders,” agreed Naoko. “Your world is blessed to have so many together in one place. Those that you have helped on many worlds are fortunate as well. And I know that it has not always been an easy path you follow. I appreciate all that you have done for me. I truly do.” Naoko stood and stepped to the door. “I don’t want to go you know,” the Combine ‘Warrior added, surprising herself at the sudden urge to continue. “I want to stay here with you and Sven and John. To chase bandits, be gun slingers and horseboys and be able to follow our hearts to do what is right and what needs doing. But I am a daughter of the Dragon. A samurai. I have responsibilities I cannot lay aside no matter what my heart tells me.” “I know,” Gracie agreed softly. “Life seems to have a way of kicking you in the teeth when you least expect it. It’s just the way it is sometimes. And it’s ‘cowboys’ not ‘horseboys’ by the way. John hasn’t been subjecting you to his over abundant collection of ancient west themed movies by any chance?” Naoko smiled at the memory of the movies. “Hai, I remember. It is ‘cowboys’ even though they ride horses. I have never seen a real horse. They look like magnificent animals.” “We have them on Sampsa. Real Terran strain ones. Cows too. Next time you’re around we’ll go out to some ranches.” “I do not think I will ever have the chance to return,” sighed Naoko. “The dark ones that would bring down the Coordinator are well placed. Our people are enslaved by Clan warriors on many Combine worlds. It is time for me to follow my giri rather than my heart and I fear that there is more than one lifetime’s work ahead to free the Combine from it’s foes. Perhaps it is not my place to ask…but look out for John for me. He values his connection to you a great deal and has missed your presence since you have pulled away. He needs someone who understands and accepts him as a person rather than as a commanding officer. I must go now, my time is short.” “We’ll take care of John,” promised Gracie. “Make sure you take care of yourself. You’re headed into a dangerous game with that info you have. If you run into serious trouble drop us a line. We’ll come a running to lend a hand.” “Hai, I will remember. Farewell Gracie,” bowed the Combine warrior. “Farewell Naoko,” replied Gracie, doing her best to imitate a bow while seated on her bed. Naoko retreated from Gracie’s cabin only to run into Misty Florens who had been looking for her. “Hey, you forgot to pack this,” announced Misty as she offered up a green bundle vacuum sealed in a clear bag. Naoko accepted it gingerly, pretty sure what it was. “You can’t go home without your first party dress,” confirmed Misty. “I had it pressed and sealed so it would keep.” “I wasn’t sure I wanted to take it,” admitted Naoko. “It has strong memories attached. Why don’t you keep it?” Misty laughed. “Like I’m ever going to be able to fit into that slinky thing. Seriously Naoko, hold onto it. Wear it again some time when the time is right. You’ll know when.” “I will bow to your greater wisdom in these matters,” nodded Naoko. “I will miss you terribly Misty. But it will comfort me to know that you are here to anchor the lance. I am glad that you have found a new home with the Warders.” Misty reached out and grabbed the smaller MechWarrior in a big hug. “I’m going to miss you too. I wish you could stay but I know you can’t. Via con Dios Naoko, No Worries right? Someday we’ll see each other again. I know it.” “I hope that is true,” sighed Naoko. As the Combine officer returned to her quarters to grab her bags she felt almost numb inside. So many good people she had to leave behind. And she was sure that the best of them was on the other side of the door she was about to open. John looked up from the desk seat when the door to Naoko’s quarters opened. She returned his sad smile as he noted that it was about time to go. If he recognized the dress that she had worn for their first ‘date’ that night in the hotel on Outreach when he had almost been killed he didn’t say anything as she tucked it into one of her bags. It had surprised her how many possessions she had to take back with her considering how little she had left with. “Hey listen Naoko,” started John, “I’ve been debating whether to say anything about this for a long time…back in Hamano when that Tai-sa guy was going to grab your ‘Mech except it wouldn’t start up….” “It malfunctioned because you had earlier asked Sergeant Harding to disable it. And then you sent him to re-enable it just before the battle started. I’ve known for a long time,” she smiled. “There is no need to feel guilty. You did me a favor that both saved my life and let us share the time we had together.” John smiled in relief. “Well that’s a load off my mind. How did you find out?” “When my Kintaro was refit for service with the Warders I was worried about a reoccurrence of the same problem. The tech you supplied me was great, but didn’t fully understand the report Sergeant Harding had created. The tech felt it sounded right however. Then Keena Washington and her talented brother the ‘Mech technician joined the unit. I ran the report by him and he told me it was a ‘right slick rigging’ and asked me what Sergeant Harding had done to the ‘pud’ who had sabotaged my ‘Mech after he cut the new chip and got me back on line. I was able to puzzle out the likely chain of events from there.” John laughed, the first time he could remember laughing in a long time. “Talented, beautiful, and a genius. I don’t know how I’m going to get by without you.” But Naoko’s mood had turned somber. “John, I feel bad about leaving you when you still have this Chairman Miller to deal with. Plus taking Basem with me. I don’t think that….” But he shushed her to silence mid protest with finger placed lightly on her lips. “Miller is my problem. You’ve already done more that your fair share for this outfit. We’ll get by, I promise. You just make sure you think carefully about who you give that disc to.” “I will,” she promised. “It should help that no one is expecting me to return with anything like this.” “You can’t count on that,” warned John. “If these Black Dragon types have connections with the Circinus pirates in some way then it won’t be long before they hear about the fate of the Yu-shan. They’ll know you have been with us and will likely watch you very closely once you turn up just to see what you know. And don’t trust ComStar any more than you have to. So take care – no undue chances okay?” “Hai, I will be vigilant,” she agreed. Then changed the subject. “John, please do me the honor of accepting this.” It was the tanto blade that was part of her samurai sword set. The more familiar long and short sword blades were the ones commonly worn, but the short dagger like weapon had been made by the same smith and was part of the set. “I can’t take that, your parents gave it to you,” he protested. She pointed the sheathed weapon at the empty place from his belt where his puukko knife should rest. It was a badge of honor traditionally worn by Sampsan warriors, one John hadn’t worn since he had lost his in his first scuffle with Miller’s assassins on Outreach. “It is past time you forgive yourself for whatever it is about those days that trouble you. If you haven’t noticed, many of your people have stowed away their own puukko in imitation of you. Traditions are an important part of life John. The puukko is to your people what the katana and wakizashi are to mine. Please, after all you have given me, accept this small token.” “I can’t really refuse when you put it like that can I?” he noted. A sly grin slipped onto Naoko’s face. “Talented, beautiful, and a genius. I don’t know how I’m going to get by without you.” John took the offered knife with one hand and gathered her into a hug with the other. They had already said their goodbyes – more than once – in the past few days. As much as was possible, they had made peace with their fate. “Come on,” John sighed at last. “Let’s go do the public goodbye thing. There’s a whole bunch of people waiting to tell you and Basem goodbye one last time.” Chairman Miller wheeled himself back to the wetbar of his expansive office and poured himself his third bourbon of the day. For most of his life he had only drank alcohol during social occasions in which others were drinking. Somewhere around four months ago he had started taking a little nip now and then as he tried to puzzle out what John Linna’s next move was going to be. The man and his private army had disappeared, going so far as to lay false tracks by hiring JumpShip connections they didn’t actually use. While nothing more had gone wrong during the ensuing time, nothing much had gone right either. The expensive Dragoon unit had been sitting out there eating up a good chunk of his personal liquid finances while Linna went unaccounted for despite the money Miller had spent trying to track down the Warders. Miller’s ComStar contacts had either been unable to help or had decided to withdraw from their relationship with him. He wasn’t sure which. Then today the word had finally came to him from a source in the Circinus Federation. Linna had sacked that turncoat Ong’s pirate band on Yu-shan. Media reports placed him on Maxwell as of three days ago with a DropShip full of pirates to be tried for their crimes. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Linna had survivors from the children kidnapped off the Starcade. Years ago when the Starcade plan had unraveled Miller had ordered the children killed. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone left to rescue. If Ong had been lying about that, who else connected to the Starcade affair that Miller thought dead was still around? The tightness started in his chest again and he popped one of the pills his doctor had given him. He wasn’t supposed to take them with booze but he didn’t care. Though wheelchair bound from spinal damage since he was a youngster, Miller had been in robust health for a man his age until recently. Living as a semi-fugitive shuttling between the compound and the office while fixating more and more on this whole Linna thing had quickly taken it’s toll. He needed to come up with a plan to deal with the situation but had been unable to create one. An unfamiliar sensation kept interfering with his thinking process. Fear. He was afraid. Afraid of what John Linna might guess, afraid of what John might know, afraid of what John might do. The man was a psychopath willing to cross the League border and hit a Circinus planet in pursuit of his revenge. There wasn’t any reason to believe that he wouldn’t risk the political fallout of coming after Miller here on a League world. Even one in the Andurien Duchy. Downing the rest of his drink Miller rested his head on the edge of the bar. He had to think. He still had his second company of secret mercenaries hidden away. He still had the Dragoons sitting only a few blocks down the street. He still had a huge pile of money and people that owed him favors in influential places. He still had indirect control of numerous business enterprises. There wasn’t anything that John Linna could have that he didn’t have. So it was just a matter of out thinking Linna. Of finding his control points and exploiting them. Child’s play, Miller told himself. He’d outfoxed the intelligence units of all the great houses. He’d made secret deals with the supposedly incorruptible ComStar. He had started and ended wars, wrestled huge star spanning corporate empires to their knees. Taking care of one upstart mercenary with delusions of grand revenge and a savior complex would not be a problem for a great mind like his. That’s what he told himself. But still the fear lay like bile in the depths of his heart. Miller repeatedly reminded himself that he was a greater man than John Linna. But he didn’t really believe it.
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