Now the entire force rolled forward, and showed little mercy when Conservatory defenders staged brief and bloody rearguard actions.

A hard choice. A hard path. The Planetary Legate had not wanted this, but Chang–an had to be secured and local support for McCarron’s Armored Cavalry and the Dynasty Guard disrupted. Without that, Ruskoff faced a divided government as Hidic and Pohl second-guessed his every order and challenged him for more military control.

Without that, he could not hold Liao for The Republic.

“Triarii four and six, on the left,” he commanded, stomping up on the hangar, sending a double set of armored vehicles racing around the western side of the magnificent building. “Two and three on the right.”

The quick pincer would hold anything in place long enough for his arrival. Legate Ruskoff levered his shoulder forward into the massive hangar doors, shattering the tracks that held them, bursting them inward.

Techs scrambled out of his way as the “enemy” machine barged inside, leaving their hasty repairs on a wounded ConstructionMech. Ruskoff spent lasers and PPC on the naked exoskeleton. It was all he had time for, as he crashed through the hangar’s rear wall and into a firefight.

The Thunderbolt had gathered friends in the form of JES tactical carriers. Both hovercraft dumped flights of short-range missiles into one of Ruskoff’s Bellonas, staggering the heavy tank. The T-bolt spent its light Gauss and short, stabbing lasers into his Saxon APC, chewing apart Cavalier infantry who bailed from the thunderstruck vehicle. The BattleMech kicked out, crushing one trooper against the APC, caving in the vehicle’s side.

Ruskoff pulled his crosshairs over the Thunderbolt, and was rewarded with an instant tone of full targeting lock. Too close for Gauss, he sprayed the ’Mech with a few short-range lasers and then smashed in at its left side with his particle cannon.

Armor blew off in a mist and in thick globs of burning composite. The Thunderbolt staggered, and went down hard. Infantry swarmed forward, but Ruskoff waved them off as he used his PPC to hobble the other ’Mech, cutting into the backs of both knees.

“Three-squad, take the prisoner. Everyone else, leave him and forward!”

No time for the niceties. Not now. Legate Ruskoff had to finish this ill-advised resistance once and for all.

Time was running out.

Evan’s small unit was first to break through to the Conservatory Grinder, his sixty-ton ’Mech kicking through the wire-mesh fencing and breaking a hole large enough to drive an armored column through.

From two kilometers out, he’d had good sensor readings on the battle being pressed across the main campus. He watched as Jenna fought for every meter, coordinating her ForestryMech and the wounded Locust, saving the armor for quick, violent counters and saving the infantry from a fiery death. The Principes Firestarter showed no hesitation in using its massive flamers on academy grounds. Gouts of incendiary gel sprayed out of both arms. Tank crews cooked alive inside their armored shells. A few buildings burned where the Mech Warrior had not been cautious enough to prevent collateral damage.

Evan’s arrival threw the balance back into Capellan favor. The firefight was brief and dissatisfying as the fast BattleMech and the assault tanks immediately withdrew. The Ryoken II limped away slowly, all but daring the Conservatory units to follow.

More units broke out onto the parade grounds, some of them chased after by Republic forces. Shiao Mai’s Praetorian command vehicle crawled out onto the rough-paved Grinder with a swarm of Infiltrators clinging to it, tearing into the control cab. Evan spent a few crucial moments scraping the sides of the mobile HQ.

“Breakthrough on the sou’west grounds.”

A militia Catapult and a Triarii Legionnaire led a host of Republic vehicles and APCs out onto the Grinder. The drive stalled as the Capellan line threw them back on their heels with a massive salvo of concentrated fire. The Catapult went down, its cockpit a blackened ruin, but the Legionnaire stepped over the corpse of its brother, rallying JES carriers and a Behemoth to quickly hit back and gut a pair of Regulator II’s.

Evan nearly struck out to their aid, but too many threat icons popped up on his HUD to justify throwing himself awkwardly around the Grinder.

“Zeus and company coming right at us.” Hahn was first to call it. He sounded excited. Eager.

“Hoverbikes swing around and tie up the battle armor,” another junior officer ordered, bleeding in on one of the sub-channels.

Jenna. “Wilco team, form on my lead.” She was dragging one leg on her ForestryMech, but the autocannon looked primed and ready and the huge diamond-toothed saw screamed around on the massive blade.

Evan stood guard over the mobile HQ, driving back any militia unit foolish enough to challenge his speed and the arcing swing of the Ti Ts’ang’s battle-ax. A trio of wheeled Demons converged on Jenna’s ForestryMech, thinking to find her an easy target and not thinking of the Ti Ts’ang’s faster speed as it grew hotter and hotter. Evan sprinted out, stopped one of the Demons with a foot placed strategically through the front canopy shield, and broke the vehicle’s spine with two heavy-falling chops. Jenna used her saw to carve a wheel off one other, and Hahn chased down the wounded tank to finish it with a deadly blast of autocannon fire. The third Demon escaped back to Republic lines, chased by Hahn.

“Think twice before they do that again,” Hahn decided as the Destroyer skated back into the fold.

Watching The Republic forces drawing up orderly lines at the southern and western edges of the Grinder, Evan wasn’t so certain. As the rain grew heavier they became shadowed outlines lit up only by the blue-white lightning flashes of PPC fire. He channeled his circuit to upper command, linking in privately with Mai Uhn Wa and Colonel Feldspar. “They are massing,” he warned. And Governor Pohl’s troops were taking a strong place near the center of that line. The Conservatory defense had gambled heavily on Anna Lu Pohl showing less backbone and more sympathy with the public outcry.

Shiao Mai evidenced little concern. “We can retreat no further, Evan.”

Evan traded long-range sniping shots with a Joust, losing armor along his left arm, but blowing a track from the tank. A recovery vehicle eased forward, fastened a cranelike towing arm to the tank, and dragged it back out of the way. “We could hit them first.”

“We could pledge neutrality,” Mai countered. He sounded as if he seriously considered it. What would be tantamount to surrender.

“It is too late for that,” Evan said. Legate Ruskoff could never allow the Conservatory to stand. Not with the Confederation’s return.

Colonel Feldspar’s Behemoth pulled back along the Conservatory’s rear lines. “Does everyone think that?” he asked. “Our cadets? Their soldiers?”

The Zeus strode forward, setting a strong center to come directly against Evan’s position. A solid cadre of armored vehicles and infantry swarmed around it. On its left flank the government auxiliaries mixed in with some light, fast ’Mechs and hovercraft. To Ruskoff’s right he brought up three assault-class Brutus tanks, the Ryoken II and the Firestarter.

“Make the offer, Evan.”

“Shiao Mai. I would not—”

“It has to come from you.” He explained no further.

Make this good. Evan toggled for broadband comms, and turned off his scrambling software. “Legate Ruskoff. This does not have to end this way.”

As if to deny that, a pair of Pegasus scout craft ran a quick slant out from the Conservatory position, laying out missiles in small, short salvoes. A pair of Gauss rifles struck out from The Republic lines. One Pegasus jumped up from the rough pavement, came down missing half its air skirt, and slid along the ground trailing sparks and fresh gravel.