* * *

Twelve hours later Kommandant Israel Zimmer stormed into the communications wagon that had become his command post. He wanted to be out in the field, but when his Marauderlost a leg in the losing battle for Shasta, he was left waiting for either his 'Mech to be repaired or a 'Mech whose pilot no longer required use of it. Though the latter would likely happen well before the former, he did not look forward to getting back into the battle that way.

"Leftenant, have you got a secure line to those incoming DropShips yet?"

The young commtech nodded and vacated his chair in front of a patched-together visiphone set. He pointed to a button. "This one will activate the link, sir."

Zimmer winked at the boy. "I've used them before, Leftenant."

"Yes, sir." The young officer blushed, but Zimmer waved it away. The boy still wore a shirt with corporal stripes on it, and the Leftenant's bars on his lapels showed a spot of blood. "It's ready now, sir."

Zimmer hit the button and got a picture of a stern-looking man. "This is Kommandant Israel Zimmer of Zimmer's Zouaves. We could really use your help."

The man on the screen frowned ferociously. "You are mercenaries, quiaff?"

Zimmer narrowed his eyes. "Yes, we are. To whom am I speaking?"

"I am Star Colonel Conal Ward, commander of the Thirty-first Wolf Solahma. We will be grounding ourselves to engage the bandits. Our landing zone is in your Sector 3342. Please vacate it."

"Say what?"

Conal stared straight out of the visiphone screen. "Sector 3342, I want it vacated. This is where I have agreed to meet the bandits."

"Star Colonel, I have my battalion dug in throughout that sector. If I move them, I will lose them. If you land in 3244, you will ground yourselves to the northwest of that position and catch the bandits between us. We're not too mobile, but we can still shoot."

"Kommandant Zimmer," the black-haired Clanner began coolly, "if you do notmove your troops, you will lose them. I will not have your people interfere in our battle."

"Yourbattle?" Zimmer hammered the arm of his chair and made the Leftenant jump. "You listen to me, you son of a bitch, my command is now what is left of my mercenary battalion and the local militia. We've fought these raiders for sixteen solid hours and have just now managed to regroup under cover of darkness. We're good troops and we won't be dismissed."

"Very well." Conal lifted his head up. "With what are you defending 3342?"

"What are you, a moron?" Zimmer thumped his fist against the screen. "I just told you, I'm defending it with every last frigging thing I have."

"Excellent!" Conal smiled at Zimmer. "I shall look forward to meeting you, Kommandant. We land in an hour. Bargained well and done."

The screen went blank and Zimmer stared at it for a second before he realized the conversation was over. "What the hell just happened there, Leftenant?"

"I dunno for sure, sir." The younger man shook his head ruefully. "But isn't 'bargained well and done' what the Clans say when they've offered a battle challenge and had it accepted?"

"I hope you're wrong, Leftenant." Zimmer left the chair and looked out the doorway toward the sky. High up, like a constellation shifting its position, he could see the Clan DropShips burning their way into the atmosphere. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid you're not."

21

Fort Ian Training Center , Port Moseby

Federated Commonwealth

20 June 3055

Victor Davion hit the space bar on his computer keypad, and the holographic display of a battlefield froze above the black briefing table. On it an inordinate number of red BattleMechs had succeeded in surrounding a blue force. "This is not good, Galen."

"I agree, sir." Galen glanced at some numbers on a console in front of him. "Unfortunately, this is the most probable outcome of the Red Corsair feinting toward the Zouave position at Rupert, then hitting Shasta. Zimmer could bring in the Zouaves to lift the siege and try to defend the city, but it would be folly. The long march will leave his troops open to ambush, especially here in the Livingstone jungle reserve."

"The key question is this: Can they hold out until the Wolves arrive?"

Victor's aide shrugged. "Assuming Zimmer can put together a defensive position that will take the raiders a while to crack, yes, I think they can. The Thirty-first Wolf Solahma were reported burning fast to the planet."

The Prince shook his head almost absentmindedly. "Coming in at 1.25 gravities is not fast. "

"Not fast enough for you, you mean, sir." Galen brushed a lock of blond hair back from his forehead. "To be prepared for combat, we never go in at better than 1.5 gravities."

"But the Clans are supposed to be such bloody hotshot warriors." Victor slammed his right fist into his left palm. "Dammit, they could hurry so our people can live."

Galen's head came up. "I thought you told me you had disparaged the Zouaves in front of the Kell Hounds back on Arc-Royal."

Victor waved the comment away. "I was young and stupid then." He looked at the time being displayed in the corner of the battlefield. "Where isthat ComStar Precentor? He says he has a Priority Alpha message for me, then takes his own sweet time about getting here. No wonder the Clans decided they wanted to take Terra."

His comment prompted a momentary guffaw from Galen, and after a moment Victor joined in, bleeding off some of the tension. "The bitch of all this, Galen, is that even going as fast as we could, the Revenants couldn't make it to Deia in near enough time to save Zimmer. It would take us a month to get out there. ..."

"But only with you commandeering every JumpShip in sight."

"That's why it's called a command circuit, Galen. If you're in command, you make the circuit." Victor started the simulation moving again. "We can't get there to stop them this time, but we can be there for the next time."

A gentle knock at the door of the briefing room made Victor stop the simulation again. "Enter."

An older man wearing the simple white robes of a ComStar Precentor slipped through the crack between the door and jamb. "ComStar Precentor Marcellin at your service, Highness." The grave look on the man's face told Victor the news was woeful.

"Let's have it, Precentor. How bad is it on Deia?"

"Highness?"

"You have news of Deia, don't you? Tell me, tell me this instant." Victor nodded at Galen and his aide readied himself to translate the Precentor's news into numbers the simulation could use. "Come on, man. I don't have all day!"

"Y-yes, Highness." Marcellin blinked a couple of times, then composed himself. "The Zouaves took up defensive positions in Sector 3342."

"Burton's Redoubt. The Speke River gives it a moat. High ground, no easy approaches. Taking it will be trouble." Galen spoke haltingly as he typed information into the computer. The simulation redrew itself, the blue force being bolstered with green troops and rising above the red forces. A light blue river separated the combatants. "Approximate strengths?"

The Precentor started to tremble. "I don't know, sir. I am not a military man. Zimmer is supposed to have had a battalion, but that was the remains of the militia and his people. He lost a whole company in the jungle."