“Like what?”

Tara looked over the various workstation screens. Mostly static and darkness. “We don’t know,” she admitted. “That’s the entire point. For now, we’re blind and deaf.

“And the Jade Falcons are falling right on top of us.”

Roosevelt Bridgehead

Missiles shattered armor along the entire right side of Tamara Duke’s Eisenfaust, digging sharp claws through the Wolfhound’s protection. Elemental lasers raked a pair of narrow red furrows down the side of the BattleMech’s “face.” One clipped the upper corner of her cockpit’s ferroglass shield, and a single drop of molten tears trailed halfway down the transparent screen before carbonizing into a black crust.

She thought she detected the acrid smell of burned metal, and worried for the space of a single heartbeat how deeply those lasers had cut.

It was all the time she had. The Elementals were on her like vermin. Nipping at her legs. Slashing at her with lasers and missiles. A few of them clambered for a good hold somewhere around the Wolfhound’s waist. She plucked one from her hip, crushing the suited figure in her “iron fist.”

“We’re good, Kommandant. Get out of there!”

One of these days, she’d pound it through Vic Parkins’ thick skull that he did not give her orders.

Of course, this time it could be nothing more sinister than a need for quick communications. Hauptmann Parkins had led a short retreat back toward the Roosevelt bridgehead while she held back the Falcons. His Behemoth was perfect for anchoring a new line. She had the ability to catch up quickly. If he was set, she needed to be out of there, fast!

Kicking out with her ’Mech’s left leg, Tamara let the armored infantry get a quick feel of her iron foot. One battlesuit trooper went flying off like a punted football. But his comrades pressed in closer, and she couldn’t risk another swarming attack. She slammed down on both foot pedals, lighting off jump jets as she arced backward in a long, flat hop.

More ground lost.

That had been the way of the entire morning, in fact. Ever since the Jade Falcons had landed an old Union–class DropShip and a Sassanid–class infantry carrier near Roosevelt Island. Not enough to take Cyclops, Incorporated, away from her Lyran Rangers—not without backup—but enough to put some serious hurt on her company if she once thought of standing toe-to-toe with the assault force.

It was all stick-and-retreat from then on, with the Falcons pushing hard, taking risks time and again as they did everything possible to gain an advantage. Maybe Tamara had moved them out a bit too slowly at one point. Maybe she’d played it all a bit too cautious. Fighting their way back toward the bridgehead, her Rangers had ended up pinched between a heavy line of ’Mechs and vehicles and this ambush of Elementals. The trap cost her company a lot of armor and a few good warriors before they slipped free.

Jasek, she knew, would have done better. She had to prove that she could as well.

Landing alongside her lance, Tamara froze over her controls for a few seconds while a Demon raced up to take care of the lone Elemental who had tagged along for the ride. A Falcon Eyrie let fly from long range with its advanced tactical missile system, but the warheads went wide and blew impotent holes in a nearby hillside. When it attempted to race forward, a pair of SM1 Destroyers was able to change its mind and send it fleeing for the safety of the main Falcon line.

A Vulture swaggered out to give its smaller cousin some covering fire. Behind both ’Mechs, the Clanners shook themselves into a new order of battle with Elementals fanning out in overlapping scrimmage lines.

The bridgehead wasn’t more than a kilometer behind the Lyran Rangers now. It ran out from a rocky slope, tied into the highway system that wound and twisted its way north along the coast to eventually reach Norfolk or speared directly west toward Braggart and Miliano. Truxton Sound lay between the mainland and Roosevelt Island, home to the main factories for Cyclops, Incorporated. The wind-chopped waters reflected back a steel gray sky, exactly the color of Tamara’s mood.

She toggled for planetary defense again, not expecting any change, but hoping. “This is Roosevelt Station. We need artillery and aerospace support. Still.” Static answered her. “This is Roosevelt Station. Come in, damn it!”

It was Colonel Petrucci who got back to her. Again. “Sutton Road is still off-line, Kommandant. We’re on our own. Deal with the situation as you see fit.”

Easy for the commander to say. He had the bulk of the Rangers spread out far to the south, covering several large cities, the Hemphill Company sapphire mines, and a host of small preassembly plants for Avanti Assemblies. And by reports he had only a few Jade Falcon reconnaissance lances to deal with.

The Vulture dumped out twin loads from its missile racks, and Tamara fell back another two hundred meters to escape their maximum range. Her large laser was equally useless, though. Artillery! What she couldn’t do right now with a simple Long Tom or Paladin defense system.

“We can hold, Colonel.” Parkins again. He was tied into the Rangers’ command frequency. Damn the man!

“We can hold,” she agreed through clenched teeth, “but it won’t be pretty.”

The Elementals were beginning to sneak forward under the cover of the Vulture’s missile barrage and the threat of a Kelswa assault tank. She sent her Destroyers out on a quick jaunt, threatening to run under the long-range fire to blast apart the Falcons with their assault-class autocannon.

“You aren’t the only one with troubles, Tamara. Wolf is calling for any backup she can get, and only the Steel Wolves are in place to support her. The Highlanders and Seventh Skye Militia report heavy action north of the capital as well.”

Alexia Wolf and elements from the Archon’s Shield had been charged with holding Miliano. Those troops had been hammered mercilessly by a veteran Falcon force. Tamara had requested the city’s defense—let the greenies handle Cyclops!—but Tara Campbell had gambled heavily on the Falcons’ being preoccupied with New London, instead. Apparently that ruse had not gone off so well as they’d hoped.

And if the Miliano Basin fell, both Norfolk and Roosevelt Island would be flanked by a Jade Falcon push. She slammed a fist against the arm of her command chair.

“If we pull out and go to their aid, we lose Cyclops, Incorporated. If we don’t, we might lose even more. Will Kerensky assist?”

“She hasn’t moved yet. The Falcons threw a little bit her way, but fell back twice as fast when that Overlord spoke up with its big guns. Trouble is, pretty much the only officer that woman trusts is Campbell. And her not too far.”

She’d dance to Jasek’s tune, if he were here. What would he say to convince Kerensky? “Colonel, we can’t let Miliano go. Point out what kind of trouble Norfolk will be in if the Steel Wolves don’t reinforce the basin. Remind them that Wolf is one of theirs.” More theirs than she was a true Stormhammer, anyway.

Tamara triggered a laser blast as a Falcon Skadi swooped in too close. The VTOL retreated with a landing skid burned away.

“Tell her… tell her Jasek would take it as a personal favor.”

That hurt. Doubly so when Vic Parkins chimed in. “That might do it,” her exec agreed.

Petrucci thought so as well. “I’ll see what can be bargained. In the meantime, Kommandant, keep your head low and your people safe.”

“Safe as we can,” Parkins promised for them both. His Behemoth rolled forward, soaking up some long-range sniping as the Falcons geared for another relentless push.

Not about to be seen accepting cover behind Parkins, or any tank commander for that matter, Tamara Duke throttled her Wolfhound into an easy walk and stalked into the open territory between her Rangers and the Falcons. Her large laser sliced angry-bright, cutting at the Vulture’s right arm.