CHAPTER ONE

Overlord C-class DropShip Rapacious

Close Orbit, Bone Norman

Jade Falcon Occupation Zone

14 June 3071

Connor Rood did not believe in his mission.

But that did not mean he wouldn’t carry it out to the best of his ability. 

“My Khan?”

Connor turned from the strategic display he’d been studying. It showed the Periphery-edge holdings of Clan Jade Falcon in the Inner Sphere.

Star Captain Ephraim Cage, Rapacious’ captain, stood in the hatchway, one hand on the frame. The other was held behind his back. “The Falcons have accepted our communications.” He brought his hand out from behind his back and gestured. “You can send your batchall.” The small man stepped back out of the hatch, clearing the way.

Rood followed him. He stood almost fifteen centimeters taller than the Star Captain, though Connor was not a big man. Ephraim Cage was not one of the aerospace fighter pilot’s phenotype, with that group’s withered limbs and overlarge heads. He had been born in a MechWarrior sibko on Hector but tested into the aerospace corps early. He had the pilot’s build from ancient Terran times, small and wiry and bound with surprising strength. His promotion to command of Rapacious, the DropShip of the Lithe Kill Keshik, command Cluster of Clan Ice Hellion’s Beta Galaxy, marked his favor with the Clan’s leadership.

Connor smiled as Ephraim turned to lead him toward the bridge. It marks his favor with me. Unlike most Clan warriors, but very much like his saKhan, Ephraim Cage was one of the uncanny few Clansmen who could remove their honor from the equation when pressed. Who saw combat for the task that it was, and practiced it with a craftsman’s care. Connor Rood had made his reputation and gained his rank approaching combat like a craftsman, unClanlike as that attitude might have been.

Rapacious’ bridge was a hive of activity as the DropShip settled into a low, powered orbit. Connor could never have walked in without the pseudo gravity provided by constant acceleration. The Overlord C was only one of many Ice Hellion DropShips falling into orbit, though Rapacious was the only one that mattered. Bone Norman would fall to the 200^th Attack Cluster—to the Lithe Kill—and to saKhan Connor Rood.

Connor stepped into the DropShip’s small holotank and signaled the technician manning the console. The air around him shimmered for a moment. A man in Jade Falcon green appeared before him, younger than Connor had expected to find on such a backwater planet. The hologram flickered for a moment, no doubt the work of a stray meteor or cosmic ray, but Connor ignored it. He let the Falcon’s eyes adjust, watched as the Star Colonel’s eyes went to the insignia on Rood’s lapels. Connor waited until the Falcon’s eyes widened, almost imperceptibly. 

“I am Khan Connor Rood of Clan Ice Hellion,” Connor announced.

The Star Colonel met his stare. He was tall, a centimeter or two below two meters, and fit, with a strength-trainer’s shoulders. His brown hair was trimmed short and he wore a moustache-less beard. “Star Colonel Idris,” the Falcon said, “of the Eleventh Provisional Garrison Cluster.” The Falcon crossed his arms. “I see the Watch was correct.”

“The Watch?”

The Falcon nodded. “We heard your fledglings were coming this way,” Idris said. “I see I have the honor of speaking to their saKhan.” He waited, but Connor said nothing. “Do you require assistance, Khan Rood?”

“I require Bone Norman,” was all Rood said.

“Pardon?”

Now Rood grinned. “Clan Ice Hellion claims the world of Bone Norman,” he said. “I and the 200^th Attack Cluster challenge you to a Trial of Possession for this world.” The Hellion Watch had little information on the Inner Sphere, despite years of diligent effort, but Rood was confident the Eleventh PGC was the only Cluster on the planet. He’d come here himself, with his entire Cluster, because the Eleventh was the only formed Cluster in one garrison station in the back-beyond of the Falcon OZ. The rest were spread across worlds penny-ante, in Binaries or even single Stars. “With what forces will you defend it, Star Colonel?”

“You have named your bid already,” Idris said.

Rood inclined his head. A normal batchall simply stated the challenge and asked the defenses, before bidding took place. Rood had bid for the assault with the Lithe Kill months ago, during the long transit from Nouveaux Paris to Bone Norman. “With. What. Forces?”

Idris straightened and dropped his arms to his sides. Anger filled his eyes. “The Eleventh PGC holds Bone Norman for Turkina,” he said. “I will not dishonor any of my warriors by denying them a chance to kill upstart Hellions.”

“Very good, Star Colonel,” Rood said. “And the Circle?”

Idris smiled. “No doubt you will want room to run your little toy ’Mechs around, Khan Rood. We will name the continent of Hapsburg our circle, and grant you safcon to the surface.”

Rood fought to keep his expression even. Safcon was safe conduct to the surface; Idris had just bid away an aerial defense and allowed the Hellions a safe landing. He worried little for the cast-off equipment a provisional garrison Cluster could put in the air, but he hadn’t hoped to avoid combat altogether.

“I will claim your defeated warriors as bondsmen,” Rood said. “Your equipment—and any military equipment—will become my isorla.”

Idris laughed. “Will you also be using BattleMechs and shooting at us, Khan Rood? I am familiar with the Trial of Possession, being so much closer to the sibko than one of your advanced age.” He sketched a half bow. “Well-bargained, sir.”

Rood inclined his head. “Well-bargained and done, Star Colonel,” he said. “We will see you on the ground.” He gestured to the technician, who cut the signal. An instant later Rood was alone in the holotank. He stood still for a moment, replaying the conversation in his head. The young Falcon’s bravado was commendable; it showed he wasn’t afraid, despite the radar returns of enough Hellion DropShips in orbit to destroy his garrison Cluster several times over.

I see the Watch was correct.

Rood closed his eyes, remembering the exact inflection in the Star Colonel’s voice. If the Jade Falcon Watch—what passed for intelligence services among the Clans—had known of the pending Hellion assault, why had they not reinforced the planetary garrisons along the Periphery border? But they had known—the Star Colonel had admitted it.

Rood opened his eyes and stepped out of the holotank. He stopped at the entrance and looked to the technician sitting at the console. “Your name?”

The technician looked startled. “K-Kelton, sir.” He glanced around the bridge, and then back at the Ice Hellion Khan’s face.

“Kelton. That was fine work.” He ducked his chin in a nod and stepped away, the technician’s name and face filed away. Several of the watchstanders across the bridge glanced at him, no doubt surreptitiously, they hoped. 

Rood ignored them. It cost him nothing to learn the technician’s name, but that technician would remember that he took the time. There might be a time when he needed a communications technician to step a centimeter or two beyond the bounds of his duty. That small action would be enough for Rood to secure that centimeter, and it would plant the seed of trust in Kelton’s companions.

“Success, my Khan?” Ephraim Cage asked.

Rood looked up. The Star Captain stood near the bridge commander’s shock frame, the enclosure that would hold him secure during high-g combat maneuvers. Most of the displays were folded down near the deck while not in use. Cage looked like a large child next to the contraption, but Rood knew from experience that once ensconced in his frame, Cage had few peers. He felt his eyebrows draw together at a sudden thought; might Cage be wasted on a DropShip?

“Do you like Rapacious, Ephraim?”

Cage frowned. “I am completely satisfied with the crew,” he said. “And the ship itself—“ he held up his hands, palms upward. “—has never given me cause to complain.”

Rood grinned. “Do you not wish a greater command?”

It was Cage’s turn to smile. “A JumpShip, my Khan?” He looked around the bridge, as if cataloging each station. “I prefer a ship with guns. Rapacious is enough for me, I think. She flies to the sound of guns.”

“So she does,” Rood said. He looked at the forward display, which showed the upper quadrant of Bone Norman’s atmosphere. “So she does,” he whispered. Then he blinked. “To answer your earlier question, Star Captain, aff. Success. The Falcons have granted us safcon to the surface. Plot a descent on Hapsburg, if you please.”

Cage inclined his head. When he looked up, he met Rood’s eyes. “Helm: plot descent Taney-Four.” He spoke without looking away from Rood. “We’ll begin our deorbit in approximately two hours, my Khan.”

Rood nodded back. Cage raised an eyebrow in question, but Rood made a small gesture. He needed to think. There was much to be examined, evaluated. The Falcons had known they were coming. What did that bode for their defense in the coming Trial? He grunted to himself. What does that mean for the invasion?

A lift took Rood to the small stateroom that was his aboard ship. It was larger than most shipboard cabins, but still austere. Space was always at a premium aboard a warship. As the primary transport for the Lithe Kill, Rapacious often hosted the Hellion saKhan. Before Connor Rood, this cabin had belonged to Sellen Cage, and she’d been even less impressed with decoration than Rood was. The walls were bare, painted an off-gray with stain-resistant paint. The desk was steel, the chair uncomfortable. The bunk even more so. 

A datacard on the desk bore nothing but the snarling Ice Hellion crest. Rood knew what was on it without loading it into the slot on the desktop. My orders. The thought made his mouth turn down in disgust, but he was far too much a warrior to let the snarl do more than whisper. He didn’t need to see the holo again. He knew the imagery by heart—every incautious, glory-hounding syllable of it.

Khan Raina Montose’s plan to carve out an Ice Hellion Occupation Zone from the one the Jade Falcon’s had claimed from the Inner Sphere was certainly audacious. Rood knew most of his sibmates—most Ice Hellions—were solidly behind the plan. It appealed to the sensibilities that made Ice Hellions what they were: swift strikers, dangerous coursers, and above all, decisive warriors. He knew Montose had conceived of the plan and implemented it without discussion; he hadn’t been privy to her thoughts until it was far too long along to fight. So he agreed, and threw his entire effort behind making the invasion a success.

In public, he supported the Khan’s position. The Ice Hellions would expand or die; that was the way of the Clans. There were few opportunities left among the Clan homeworlds, and what was there paled in comparison to the rich, open planets of the Inner Sphere. The Clans that had secured Inner Sphere occupation zones—the so-called Invader Clans—were strong beyond belief. If the Ice Hellions were to undo the last twenty years of reversals, they would need new possessions to do it.

In public, saKhan Connor Rood was an Ice Hellion born and bred, and utterly devoted to his Khan’s plan. As second-in-command of the entire Clan, he could do no less.

Here, in the private, austere cabin granted him on Rapacious, the man Connor Rood doubted.

Here, Connor Rood was afraid.

Red Stone Palace

Hapsburg, Bone Norman

Jade Falcon Occupation Zone

14 June 3071

Star Colonel Idris of Clan Jade Falcon looked up as the Star Commander entered his small office. Bentley snapped to attention and saluted. He was young, seventeen years or so. His hairline was full, his muscles taut, his eyes haughty. Every centimeter the trueborn Clan warrior. Idris grimaced and waved at him to relax. “The message is sent, quiaff?”

“Aff, Star Colonel.” Bentley held out a noteputer. “The HPG confirmation is here. The Galaxy Commander has been appraised of the Ice Hellions’ presence.”

Idris took the ‘puter, but set it down without looking at it. “And the other preparations?” He leaned over his left desk drawer, reaching toward the back for a stack of datacards. He hadn’t thought he was ever going to need them, but he thanked Turkina’s foresight that he’d made them.

Bentley frowned. “They proceed, Star Colonel.”

Idris looked up at him. “You are uneasy?”

“It seems unClanlike, Star Colonel,” Bentley said, after a moment. “We are Jade Falcons. We should meet the Ice Hellions and crush them, not go to ground.” His brow was furrowed, but it was with confusion, not disrespect. Bentley was young, in his first posting after his Trial of Position. He had defeated two opponents, earning his Star Commander’s rank, but his inexperience and adherence to the ironclad precepts of the falconers were the reasons he’d been posted here, to the Eleventh PGC, rather than directly to a frontline Cluster.

Idris, unlike many Jade Falcons, did not dislike command of the PGC. He was young for Star Colonel’s rank, and a good performance here would put him firmly on the ristar path. He motioned the young officer to sit, gesturing at the steel folding chair in front of his desk.

“You have reviewed the codex of the Lithe Kill?” Idris asked, once Bentley had sat.

“Aff, Star Colonel,” Bentley replied. “As soon as I heard the bid.” He paused. “A good Cluster, if the appellation can be applied to Ice Hellions.”

Idris nodded. “And saKhan Connor Rood?”

“He is young for his rank. He replaces Sellen Cage, just as Raina Montose replaces Asa Taney.” Bentley shifted in his seat. “The Watch reports on them are not open to warriors of my clearance—all I have found are their public codexes as heads of the Clan.”

Idris picked up the noteputer. He manipulated the touchscreen until he found what he wanted, then pressed his thumbprint to the authorization panel. “You are now cleared for all Watch reports regarding the 200^th Attack Cluster,” he said. “As is every member of this Cluster with a Bloodname, or at least Star Commander’s rank.”

Bentley sat up straighter. “Thank you, sir.”

“Do not thank me, Star Commander.” Idris set the ‘puter down and folded his hands on the desktop. “Tell me why my orders are unClanlike.”

“Star Colonel…”

“I am not challenging you to a Trial of Grievance, Bentley,” Idris said calmly. He kept his voice level, affecting what he knew was the falconer’s tone. The younger warrior responded, pursing his lips.

“We run before them,” he said simply.

Idris smiled. That was the Jade Falcon way; the direct way. Instead of couching his disagreement in rhetoric, or judging the orders themselves, Bentley struck right at the heart of the issue. His own personal honor.

“You do not retreat?”

“Not without first fighting,” the Star Commander said.

“Because it is not Clanlike?”

“Jade Falcons do not run.” He spoke the falconer’s precept without hesitation.

Idris smiled again. “What is our duty here?”

“To serve the Clan.” Another precept.

“And what duty does our Clan demand of us?”

“That we hold Bone Norman for Turkina.”

“And if we face the Ice Hellions here, below us on the plains beneath Red Stone Palace where we once won this world from the Lyrans, and are defeated, how does that serve the Clan?”

Bentley frowned. “But, Star Captain—we would not be defeated.”

“That is the personal Cluster of a Khan,” Idris said, gesturing with his chin toward the ceiling. “The keshik of a Galaxy, and perhaps the premier attack Cluster of the Ice Hellions.” He sat back, placing his hands in his lap. “Trust me—were we to face them openly, no doubt as Khan Rood expects us to—we would be destroyed.”

Bentley sputtered. “We are Jade Falcons—“

Idris cut him off. “We are a provisional garrison Cluster. We count three Bloodnames among us. Half of our equipment is second-line, and one Beak Star in the Third Trinary is comprised of Star League-era machines. We. Would. Lose.”

“But—”

“But nothing. There is no dishonor in stating fact.”

“It is not fact. We are Jade Falcon.” The stubbornness in Bentley’s voice was palpable. This one will fight well, Idris thought, if only I can direct him.

“Our duty is to hold the world,” Idris said. “We are agreed on that?”

“Aff, Star Colonel.”

“The Khans expected this Ice Hellion attack, Star Commander Bentley,” Idris said. “Perhaps not so soon, but it was expected. Gamma and Delta Galaxies are in the process of redeploying. When they do, they will return and push the Ice Hellions off Bone Norman. Our task—if we are strong enough—is to hold the Hellions here. Bone Norman cannot be the only world they hope to take, and it is imperative that the Hellions still be here, where our Khans know where to find them, when the final claw strike is positioned.”

He stopped, watching. Bentley’s face was still set, but Idris had watched enough young warriors go through this line of thought to see the beginnings.

“We hold Bone Norman,” he said finally, “because it is our duty to do so.” A man in the green coveralls of the technician caste stepped into the doorway. Idris held up a hand to stop him. “And we extend the length of time we hold the Hellions here, because that is our duty also.” He kept his hand up.

“I…” Bentley stopped.

Idris nodded and held out his hand to the technician. The man stepped in far enough to slip Idris a piece of yellow message paper before backing out of the room. Idris unfolded the paper, read the few words, and folded the paper again. He set it on the desk between them, then looked up to meet the Star Commander’s eyes.

“I will do my duty, Star Colonel,” Bentley said. His young face, pale skin and day-old stubble all, was set and determined. “I am Jade Falcon.”

“Then lead your Star to the location indicated and do as you see fit to hold the Hellions here.” He nodded to the Star Commander, watching as the young man stood. “Our traditions do us honor,” Idris said softly. Bentley waited. “But our honor is second to the Clan’s.”

Bentley frowned. “That is not what I was taught on Ironhold.”

Idris looked up at him with a wry grin. “Nor I.” He leaned forward and slid the message form across the desk. “But it is what I have learned here, in the Inner Sphere.” He waited until Bentley had picked the slip of folded paper up, but spoke before the young man could open it.

“The Hellions are coming down.”

Bentley crushed the paper without reading it. “Then we must make sure there is nothing here for them to find.”