Amazing that any of them had gotten out of there alive, but especially Jasek, who had been the last man to run. The Falcons had ripped through Vandel’s unit, and then split the Stormhammer lines between the Archon’s Shield and the Lyran Rangers. Split it right next to her unit, actually. The Clanners had pressed forward strong advances, then cut in from each side to form a box. The containment had held long enough to inflict serious casualties.

Fortunately, the Landgrave had not been one of them. Tamara had no idea what she’d do if Jasek was lost to the Stormhammers.

To her.

“Look,” he said, regaining a measure of command posture. “You’ll be on my right flank as we head north. Petrucci is sidelined, so it’s your unit. And I want you to hold what I told you right up front.”

“Secure the Highlander position,” Tamara recited. “Protect Tara Campbell. Do not let our forces get split apart again.”

It could have been much worse. She could have been sent to safeguard that she-wolf. If Alexia Wolf wanted to spend her people in aid of Anastasia Kerensky, that was on her head. Tamara wasn’t going to spend good Lyran lives pulling the Strikers out of the fire.

She had to be a mess. Twenty hours in combat togs. Sweaty and sore. Hair matted down by her neurohelmet, and a nick in her shoulder where shrapnel had burst through her cockpit’s ferroglass shield. Blood stained her arm and the side of her coolant vest. A quick meal of field rations, some new armor for her ’Mech, and now it was right back into the fray.

None of that mattered to Jasek. Or, perhaps more certainly, it all mattered to him. He placed a hand against the side of Tamara’s face. She could feel his heat burning her cheek.

“I depend on you. You know this.”

“I do,” she said. On her more than anyone.

He left her with that parting gesture, ever the gallant commander. So close, and still held apart. But maybe not for much longer. Tamara had plans. Long-range plans. They certainly included Jasek Kelswa-Steiner.

Staring past Jasek’s retreating form, she caught Vic Parkins, her company’s exec. Parkins was talking to Niccolò GioAvanti near the Kelswa assault tank he’d crew into battle. Gone was his Behemoth II, lost in the last Falcon offensive. He hadn’t the good graces to die in his command chair, though. No, he was still there, one step behind her, still chumming up with the brass—or at least the brass’s best friend.

Some of her plans included him as well. It didn’t matter that Parkins had performed his duty fairly solidly since his aborted court-martial. She knew, if no one else but maybe Jasek did, that the man had something on his own agenda.

Parkins did not look exceptionally happy talking with GioAvanti. His shoulders slumped heavily and he shook his head quite often. But when GioAvanti offered his hand, the two shook on whatever they’d been discussing. Then Vic shrugged into padded togs and joined the Kelswa’s crew at the side of the tank. He saw her staring, and tossed her a hesitant wave.

Tamara turned her back on him, and broke into a trot toward her Wolfhound. Parkins would keep until later. She wouldn’t turn her back on him, certainly, but she had larger concerns than any deal he’d struck with GioAvanti.

Right now, she had to live up to Jasek’s expectations.

And her own.

35

Miliano Basin

Skye

23 December 3134

Green bright flares held aloft on parachutes and steel cabling pushed back the night as the Jade Falcons advanced on Miliano. Wind gusted violently across the basin, first from the west, then the north, spinning the flares beneath their silken canopies. A light rain—more a heavy mist—swirled over the struggling forces, often blown sideways or even back up into the air.

Noritomo Helmer studied the battle that raged before him, around him, behind him, through a ferroglass shield streaked with mud and ash. His Gyrfalcon stalked the forward western edge of the Falcon drive, tangled among Stormhammers and Steel Wolves and even a Lyran Manticore, which had done more damage ramming into the side of a Kinnol main battle tank than it ever had with its PPC. Armored infantry swarmed over the ground in rogue packs, forming and breaking in haphazard patterns that could not be anticipated. Light vehicles paired up when possible, charging from one firefight to the next. Assault tanks claimed good locations, holding them to form brief islands of security, moving only when artillery fire walked in too close.

Jade Falcon BattleMechs all but ignored the chaos surrounding them, holding themselves above petty squabbles as they trudged forward, seizing new ground and pulling the battle lines with them.

Still it was not enough for Malvina Hazen.

“Star Colonel Helmer. Dress up your lines. Shore up my flank. You are …falling back again.”

He pulled his Gyrfalcon up short as lasers cut back and forth in front of him, crisscrossing in deadly volleys. The too brief flare of missile exhausts gave only a few seconds’ warning before a trio of warheads slammed into the ’Mech’s right leg, throwing a hitch into his stride.

Dropping crosshairs over a fleeing Scimitar, he sliced ruby lances across its rear. A solid kick in the ass that should keep it moving.

“Helmer?”

“Aff, Galaxy Commander.”

Noritomo checked his map screen. Hazen’s command worked the point of the Jade Falcon spearhead, and had pushed far forward of the main lines. Dangerously so. It would have been better—smarter—to await reinforcement by Galaxy Commander Malthus, who pushed down from the northwest, crossing behind Noritomo’s position. Malthus rode command in a Tribune mobile headquarters, slow but certain, and had an assault Star for escort. A strong “swing” of force strength.

More missiles cascaded over his position, erupting around him in fire and shrapnel. Noritomo tied the Gyrfalcon’s autocannon into his triggers and spread more destruction along the confused lines.

“A few loose ends which need tying up,” he said.

“If your flank collapses… it is your career… we will be tying up.” She was panting. Overexerting herself as she drove forward against Tara Campbell’s Highlanders and the small Lyran contingent.

“We will hold,” Helmer promised.

He traded weapons fire with a Joust. His cut deeper, harder, slicing down through diamond tread and snapping the belt. A double squad of Hauberks moved up to support the crew, buying them time to evacuate the ruined vehicle. Some Elementals jumped in too quickly and paid for it as they were overwhelmed by strength of numbers.

“We need more than that, Helmer.”

The Falcons needed more? Or had Malvina adopted the royal we? And did it matter, at this point?

“I have a fresh Trinary ready to swing in behind your position at your order,” he offered, damning the need. He toggled a switch, calling them forward.

His Cluster retained nearly seventy percent of its operational status due to his judicious bidding and constant resupply, but that force was now spread over too great a distance to leverage its full strength. He had this one Trinary he had hoped to use to shore up against any counterthrust. His entire reserve, built from those careful expenditures as he drove back Kerensky and her Steel Wolves. The damage his warriors had inflicted on them in the last week was impressive, but like her Black Widow namesake, the woman seemed to have the lives of a cat.