TEXT: TM
  A QUARTER CENTURY OF HEAVY METAL MAYHEM
  
  Strap yourself into the 
  ultimate suit of armor: the 
  BattleMech. 
  Thirty 
  feet 
  tall and weighing up to a 
  hundred tons, this humanoid 
  engine of destruction is 
  a walking arsenal with 
  enough firepower to level a 
  city block.
  The BattleTech/MechWarrior universe 
  takes you into the world of the 31st 
  Century, where war has become a way of 
  life. You are a MechWarrior, in command 
  of the most powerful machines on the 
  battlefield, and hold the fate of empires 
  in your hand!
  Now leap into the visual feast of 
  BattleTech: 25 Years of Art & Fiction, its 
  pages brimming with a huge breadth of 
  artists and styles that have brought this 
  universe to life. Accompanying the bevy 
  of art are 18 all-new short stories from 
  perennial BattleTech authors Michael 
  Stackpole, Robert Charrette, William H. 
  Keith, Jr., Loren Coleman and others. A 
  timeline of the universe and an extensive 
  bibliography cataloging every published 
  rulebook, sourcebook, box set and so 
  on—along with an in-depth treatise on 
  the development of one of the largest 
  computer game properties in history—
  creates the ultimate guidebook.  
  ▲▼▲
  Under License From
  WEBSITE: CATALYSTGAMELABS.COM
  9
  7 8 1 9 3 4 8 5 7 5 3 3
  ISBN 978-1-934857-53-3
      $59.99
  5 5 9 9 9
  ©2009 WizKids, Inc. All Rights Reserved. Classic BattleTech, 
  BattleTech, BattleMech, ’Mech, MechWarrior, and WK Games 
  are registered trademarks and/or trademarks of WizKids, Inc. in 
  the United States and/or other countries. Catalyst Game Labs 
  and the Catalyst Game Labs logo are trademarks of InMediaRes 
  Production, LLC. Printed in Thailand.
  
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  C O N T E N T S
  2
  FORWARD .......................................................4
  INTRODUCTION .................................................6
  TIMELINE .......................................................16
  OZYMANDIAS .................................................32
  STARFIRE .......................................................46
  THUS IT SHALL STAND ....................................62
  A LITTLE PIECE OF WAR ..................................74
  REMAINING UNPERCEIVED ..............................86
  MARSH OWL ..................................................96
  TACTICS OF BETRAYAL ..................................108
  THE WALKING DEAD .....................................120
  HORNET’S NEST ...........................................132
  VECTOR .......................................................144
  FACE IN THE VIEWPORT ................................156
  MEANS TO AN END ......................................166
  CHERRY BLOSSOMS .....................................176
  FIRST CHAIR ................................................190
  THE COLOR OF RAGE .....................................202
  THREE SIDES TO EVERY STORY ......................216
  TEACH THE WICKED .....................................220
  WELL MET IN THE FUTURE ............................228
  THE DARK AGE .............................................238
  END TRANSMISSION .....................................244
  COMPUTER BIBLIOGRAPHY ............................256
  BIBLIOGRAPHY .............................................280
  25 YEARS
  B AT T L E T E C H
  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  ARTIST: STEVE VENTERS
  PUBLICATION: MECHWARRIOR: THE 
  BATTLETECH ROLE PLAYING GAME
  YEAR: 1986
  TM
  
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  C R E D I T S
  3
  BattleTech Original Design
   
  Jordan K. Weisman (Original Concept)
   
  L. Ross Babcock III
   
  Sam Lewis
  Project Concept
   
  Randall N. Bills
  Project Development
   
  Randall N. Bills
  Assistant Development
   
  Jason Schmetzer
  Writing
  Story Fiction
   
   
  Ilsa Bick
   
   
  Randall N. Bills
   
   
  Robert Charrette
   
   
  Loren Coleman
   
   
  Keith DeCandido
   
   
  Craig Erne
   
   
  Thomas Gressman 
   
   
  William H. Keith, Jr.
   
   
  Kevin Killiany
   
   
  Jim Long
   
   
  David L. McCulloch
   
   
  Victor Milán
   
   
  Steven Mohan, Jr.
   
   
  Blaine Lee Pardoe
   
   
  Jason Schmetzer
   
   
  Adam Sherwood
   
   
  Michael A. Stackpole
   
   
  Robert Thurston
   
   
  Phaedra Weldon
  Additional Writing
   
   
  Randall N. Bills
   
   
  Mike Miller
   
   
  Chris Wheeler
   
  Timeline
   
   
  Dan Grendell 
   
   
  Øystein Tvedten
   
   
  Patrick Wynne
   
  Computer Bibliography
   
   
  Chris Chapman
   
  Bibliogrpahay
   
   
  Herb Beas
   
   
  Patrick Wynne
  Project Editing
   
  John Helfers
   
  Diane Piron-Gelman
   
  Jason Schmetzer
  BattleTech Line Developer
   
  Herb Beas
  Production Staff
   
  Art Direction
   
   
  Randall N. Bills
   
  Cover Art
   
   
  Franz Vohwinkel
   
  Cover Design
   
   
  Matt Heerdt
   
  BattleTech Logo Design
   
   
  Shane Hartley, Steve Walker
   
   
  and Matt Heerdt
   
  Evolved Faction Logos Design
   
   
  Jason Vargas
   
  Layout
   
   
  Matt Heerdt
   
  Illustrations
   
   
  See illustrations for attributions
   
  Maps
   
   
  Øystein Tvedten
   
  Planets
   
   
  Aaron Pollyea
  Acknowledgements
   
  The following authors need to be thanked for 
  helping in one way or another to successfully shape 
  a living and breathing universe over the course of 
  these last twenty-ﬁ ve years: Ken St. Andre, Dorothy 
  Elizabeth Baker, Samuel Brown Baker II, Herbert 
  A. Beas II, Mike Bently, Randall N. Bills, Mark 
  Bloom, David Boyle, Hugh Browne, Jim Brunk, 
  Alex Bund, Brent Carter, Robert N. Charrette, 
  Loren L. Coleman, Dave Coriveau, Chuck Crane, 
  Robert Cruz, Warner Doles, Elizabeth T. Danforth, 
  Phillip J. DeLuca, Shaun Duncan, D. Brad Frazee, 
  Tara Gallagher, Eric Garvis, Cory Glaberson, Adam 
  Gratun, C. R. Green, Dan “Flake” Grendell, Thomas 
  S. Gressman, Eric Hart, Chris Hartford, Michael T. 
  Herbert, Clare W. Hess, Karl Hiesterman, Detlef 
  Howe, Todd Huettel, Lisa M. Hunt, Walter H. Hunt, 
  Christopher Hussey, Donna Ippolito, Evan Jamieson, 
  Scott Jenkins, Stuart Johnson, J. Andrew Keith, 
  William H. Keith, Jr., Dale L. Kemper, Stephen 
  Kenson, Peter Killinger, Patrick Kirkland, Camille 
  Klein, Rodney Knox, Michael Koennecke, James 
  Lanigan, Patrick L. Larkin, David Ladyman, Jeffrey 
  Layton, Michael Lee, Sam Lewis, Bryan LiB¢randi, 
  James D. Long, Christine Mackay, Laurie Mair, 
  Gene Marcil, Stephané I. Matis, Ardath Mayhar, 
  Patrick McCormack, David L. McCulloch, Richard 
  K. Meyer, Victor Milán, Tanja Möstel, Michael 
  Mulvihill, Sharon Turner Mulvihill, Jim Musser, 
  Bryan Nystul, Mike Nystul, George O’Dahjungle, 
  Mel Odom, Heiko Oertel, Mike O’Green, Blaine 
  Lee Pardoe, Geoff Pass, Michael Pellicciotti, Bear 
  Peters, Tom Peters, Boy F. Petersen, Jr., Donald 
  G. Phillips, Diane Piron-Gelman, Anthony Pryor, 
  Susan Putney, Rick Raisley, Peter L. Rice, William 
  Scammell, Lester W. Smith, Peter Smith, Brant 
  Sponberg, Jerry Stenson, Rick David Stuart, John 
  Thiesen, Robert Thurston, Christoffer Trossen, 
  Ashley Watkins, Robt. Wells, Wm. John Wheeler, 
  Andreas Zuber, Gabriel Zupcan and last, but 
  certainly not least, L. Ross Babcock III, Jordan 
  Weisman and Michael A. Stackpole.
   
  To the sculptors past and present, who 
  have created a vast, award winning BattleTech 
  miniature line: C. Atkin, B. Bugge, B. Charrette, 
  J. Garrity, S. Garrity, J. Grace, J. Guthrie, B. 
  Hubbuch, J. Johnson, R. Kerr, R. Kyde, P. Lewis, 
  T. Meier, S. Saunders, D. Summers, W. Vail, G. 
  Valley, J. VanSchaik, J. Wilhelm, D. Williams, J. 
  Winter and any one else we might have missed.
   
  Additionally, to all of the artists who have 
  breathed visual life into such a vibrant universe. 
  Of particular note are Doug Chaffee, Mark Zug, 
  Les Dorschied, Jim Nelson, Chris Lewis, Chris 
  Moeller, Kevin McCann, Duane Loose, Franz 
  Vohwinkel, Klaus Scherwinski, Fred Hooper and 
  Mathew Plog.
   
  To all of the editors that have turned author 
  manuscripts into printed products—thanks!
   
  Finally, to every licensee that BattleTech has 
  ever had; thank you for bringing the wonderful 
  world of BattleTech to new audiences and 
  unexpected horizons.
  Fact-Checkers/Proofers
   
  Paul Bowman, Rich Cencarik, Nicolai Duda, 
  Ken’ Horner, Mike Miller, David McCulloch, Jeffrey 
  “Highlander” Morgan, “Medron Pryde”, Ben “Ghost 
  Bear” Rome, Andreas Rudolph, Björn Schmidt, 
  Christopher Searls, Paul Sjardijn, Peter Smith, 
  Øystein Tvedten, Chris “Chinless” Wheeler, Patrick 
  Wynne and Andreas Zuber.
  Special Thanks
   
  Trying to dig up images across 25 years 
  and four different companies—much less the 
  dozen plus licensees—was a labor of Herculean 
  proportions. Matt Heerdt went above and beyond 
  the fantastic graphic design of this book into 
  endless scanning and image ﬁ xing and digging in 
  old archives. Thanks for the dedication that helped 
  make this book worthy of a 25-year legacy.
  Matt’s Thanks
   
  Alicia, thanks for putting up with my obsession 
  with ‘that hex game’ and with all those 3 a.m. work 
  nights. And yes, I did lose to you that one time...
  Dedication
   
  Thanks to all of the BattleTech fans, past, 
  present and future. You’ve made this twenty-ﬁ ve-
  year ride possible and we hope you’ll join us for 
  another exciting and fun ﬁ lled ﬁ fteen years!
  ©2009 WizKids, Inc. All Rights Reserved. 
  BattleTech: 25 Years of Art and Fiction, Classic 
  BattleTech, BattleTech, ’Mech, BattleMech, 
  MechWarrior and WK Games logo are 
  registered trademarks and/or trademarks 
  of WizKids, Inc in the United States and/or 
  other countries. No part of this work may be 
  reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or 
  transmitted in any form or by any means, without 
  the prior permission in writing of the Copyright 
  Owner, nor be otherwise circulated in any form 
  other than that in which it is published. 
   
  Published by Catalyst Game Labs, an imprint of 
  InMediaRes Productions, LLC
  PMB 202 • 303 91st Ave NE • G701 • Lake 
  Stevens, WA 98258
  FIND US ONLINE:
   
  Precentor_martial@classicbattletech.com
   
   
  (e-mail address for any BattleTech questions)
   
  www.classicbattletech.com
   
   
  (ofﬁ cial Classic BattleTech web pages)
   
  www.CatalystGameLabs.com
   
   
  (Catalyst web pages)
   
  www.battlecorps.com/catalog
   
   
  (online ordering)
  
  For a story that spans centuries, a quarter of one shouldn’t feel so long, but it sure does.
  So much has happened in the past 25 years, in the BattleTech universe and our own. And it is interesting 
  how some things have overlapped between the two universes, such as the fall of the Soviet Empire, or 
  the invention of myomer technology for limb replacement. I only hope more similarities don’t develop, 
  because while the BattleTech universe is a fun place to visit, I wouldn’t want my kids to live there.
  It has been an amazing ride that I never anticipated. Well, that’s not completely true. I think any time 
  you write a story, you hope it will be appreciated for many years to come, but you never really expect 
  that to happen, and so I remain blown away by how dynamic the BattleTech universe continues to be.
  The reason for that relevance and freshness is simple. While I had the honor to start this ball rolling, 
  the creative powers of the thousands who came after me keep it rolling and gaining speed. When I 
  refl ect back on the who’s who of artists and writers that have contributed to the BattleTech universe, 
  it takes my breath away. Some of the best times of my creative life were the brainstorming sessions 
  and story development meetings, working with the ever-changing but always talented collection of 
  writers that continue to bring this universe to life, and the sketching sessions with fantastic concept 
  artists and illustrators visualizing how this universe looks and feels, or fi guring out the implied logic 
  of how a new ’Mech or vehicle would work.
  But the real strength of the BattleTech universe comes from you: the readers, fans and players. The fan 
  fi ction and art plays a huge part in keeping us all involved in a universe we share and love. I remember 
  being at a convention soon after the publication of the fi rst version (then called BattleDroids) and 
  having players tell me the stories of their units and battles. Thankfully, 25 years later, they are still 
  telling them.
  Jordan Weisman • May 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  4
  
  F O R W A R D
  5
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  ARTIST: ALLEN GUITERREZ
  PUBLICATION: BATTLEDROIDS
  YEAR: 1984
  
  I
  t all began in 1984. As the anime craze began to make its way to the 
  American market, FASA Corporation published BattleDroids (which would 
  become BattleTech in 1985); a stand alone box set game that immersed 
  players into a brand new, epic science fi ction universe, with a fun game to back 
  it up. The visceral feel of metal titans storming across alien worlds, combined 
  with the in-depth crafting of the universe and the dynamic, realistic characters 
  created an instant success that has gone on to become one of the best selling 
  and most recognized names in the adventure gaming industry. It has also 
  reached far beyond that core market, spawning over a hundred novels, over a 
  dozen computer game and computer game expansions, numerous virtual world 
  centers, toys, comic books, a cartoon series and more.
  25 Years of Art and Fiction is a retrospective of the best art that BattleTech has 
  generated over the years, wedded to all new fi ction to showcase the universe’s 
  vibrancy; strong and still growing. Paired with the words and images are sections 
  detailing the publication history of the game—printed books and computer 
  games—as well as a fi rst-ever-published comprehensive universe timeline.
  STORY FICTION VS. SOURCEBOOK FICTION
  BattleTech uses two diff erent types of fi ction to convey its story. “Story fi ction” 
  includes novels, novellas, short stories and so on; fi ction that puts the reader 
  inside the heads of the characters that populate the universe. The 19 short stories 
  in this book are examples of “story fi ction.” “Sourcebook fi ction”—which appears 
  in the various Handbooks, Historicals, Technical Readouts, scenario packs and so 
  on (see Bibliography, p. 280)—presents story elements as though the reader were 
  a character transplanted into the game universe, reading military documents, 
  historical texts, secret security briefs, intercepted personal communications, 
  local newspapers and so on. These two methods work hand-in-hand to bring the 
  BattleTech universe to life.
  For those who have never heard or experienced BattleTech before, the following 
  are a series of “sourcebook fi ction” pieces that will provide an overview of the 
  most important aspects of the universe. Armed with this information you’ll be 
  able to follow the short stories in this book with more ease, allowing for greater 
  enjoyment.
  There are various BattleTech Eras; distinct timeframes that mark diff erent 
  setting styles and the fi ction and game play that occurs (see BattleTech Eras, p. 16, 
  for more in-depth information). The following excerpts cover up to the start of the 
  Jihad, the current universe-shaking story-line unfolding in BattleTech sourcebooks 
  and fi ction. Information on MechWarrior Dark Age, the era after the Jihad is found 
  starting on p. 238.
  For almost a thousand years, humans have journeyed into the 
  far reaches of space, colonizing thousands of worlds and forming 
  starspanning nations. From these grew the ﬁ ve vast star empires 
  that make up the Inner Sphere.
  But the Inner Sphere was divided. Its ruling dynasties warred 
  constantly over colony worlds with valuable resources. These 
  titanic struggles led to the development of BattleMechs: gigantic, 
  humanoid battle machines bristling with lethal weapons. From 
  the twenty-ﬁ fth century onward, these walking tanks ruled the 
  battleﬁ elds. BattleMechs and their skilled pilots changed combat 
  forever.
  As the price of conﬂ ict grew, the Inner Sphere tired of war. 
  In 2571, the ﬁ ve ruling Houses joined together with the Terran 
  Hegemony in the Star League, a federation led by a Hegemony 
  First Lord and served by its own army: the Star League Defense 
  Force. For nearly two hundred years, the Star League brought the 
  Inner Sphere peace and prosperity.
  In 2751, the sudden death of its First Lord left the Star League 
  in the care of a child. Young Richard Cameron ruled in name, but 
  the real power lay with the ﬁ ve Council Lords, each a sovereign 
  of the original ﬁ ve Great Houses. Ambitious and distrustful, they 
  plotted against one another, while a Machiavellian prince from the 
  Periphery named Stefan Amaris wormed his way into Richard’s 
  trusting heart. In 2766, Amaris assassinated the young First Lord 
  and took control of the Star League in a bloody coup d’etat.
  The Star League Defense Force, commanded by the brilliant 
  General Aleksandr Kerensky, refused to accept Amaris’ rule. For 
  thirteen years, they fought him in a bitter civil war that was the 
  largest conﬂ ict yet fought by humanity. Kerensky’s forces won, but 
  at a terrible price. In the chaos that followed, the Council Lords 
  were each determined to step in as First Lord. Despite Kerensky’s 
  efforts to hold the failing Star League together, it dissolved amid 
  mutual hostility in 2781.
  Unable to halt the impending conﬂ ict between the ﬁ ve Great 
  Houses, Kerensky appealed to his soldiers to join him in leaving 
  the Inner Sphere. Nearly eighty percent of the Star League army 
  heeded Kerensky’s call to build a new Star League far beyond the 
  explored universe. In 2784, Kerensky and his followers abandoned 
  their homes and headed into uncharted space, presumably never 
  to return. 
  War followed war in the wake of Kerensky’s dramatic departure. 
  For nearly three centuries, the Houses of the Inner Sphere fought 
  in vain for the right to rule over all humanity. These Succession 
  Wars brought ever-shifting alliances and cost the Inner Sphere 
  precious, irreplaceable technology. Constantly maneuvering 
  for position—including the grand alliance of Houses Davion and 
  Steiner signed in 3022 that would eventually lead to the formation 
  of the fearsome Federated Commonwealth—the House Lords 
  assumed that the most dangerous enemy they would ever face 
  was each other.
  They were wrong.
  Even as the Inner Sphere was blowing back its technological 
  and industrial base almost a thousand years, Kerensky’s followers 
  built a new society in the harsh environs beyond known space. 
  They developed a rigid caste system, designed to produce the 
  ultimate warriors. For nearly three centuries, the separate castes 
  of Kerensky’s Clans were uniﬁ ed by one burning ideal: that when 
  the time was right, they would return home and conquer the Inner 
  Sphere. They would become the saviors of humanity, rebuilding the 
  Star League in their own image.
  — Excerpt from Humanity’s Destiny (ﬁ rst year geopolitical curriculum text, condensed by Misha Auburn from Manifest Destiny: 
  Humanity’s Star Empires, by Misha Auburn, Commonwealth Press, 3067/3054)
  A TIME OF WAR
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  I N T R O D U C T I O N
  6
  INTRODUCTION
  
  In 3048, the warlord Khans of the Clans decided the time had come 
  to launch their invasion. With their powerful ’Mechs and MechWarriors, 
  they drove straight toward Terra, the birth world of humanity.
  Faced with a common enemy, the empires of the Inner Sphere 
  united against the threat, establishing a new Star League. Finally 
  victorious in 3060, the Star League halted the Clan invasion. A new 
  era of peace beckoned, but it was not to be. Before long, war once 
  again swept through every House and Clan, with the most vicious 
  ﬁ ghting centered around the FedCom Civil War between Houses 
  Davion and Steiner.
  Following the FedCom Civil War, the leaders of the Great Houses 
  met, declared their Star League a sham and disbanded. The 
  pseudoreligious Word of Blake—a splinter group of ComStar, the 
  protectors and controllers of interstellar communication—had been 
  on the verge of joining the Star League in fulﬁ llment of their ancient 
  prophecies. Cheated of their dream, they took swift vengeance and 
  launched the Jihad: an interstellar war that would ultimately pit 
  every faction against each other and even against themselves.
  A TIME OF WAR
  THOSE WHO MAKE WAR
  GREAT HOUSES
  The Great Houses have dominated most of the Inner Sphere’s 
  two thousand star systems for centuries. Each House is ruled by a 
  single individual who wields immense power, shaping the futures of 
  trillions of people. These dictatorships, benign or otherwise, sprang 
  up in direct response to humankind’s expansion to the stars. After 
  the collapse of the central government that supported humanity’s 
  ﬁ rst wave of expansion, regional power brokers arose. They wrought 
  the empires that exist today, binding nearby planets together with 
  various forms of feudalism.
  The vast distances between planets made interstellar travel a 
  rarity. Until humans developed the HPG system in 2630, interstellar 
  communication was extremely difﬁ cult and unreliable. This meant 
  that each world enjoyed considerable autonomy. The warlords who 
  ruled the planets rarely faced the risk of overthrow by an invading 
  military force. Variations on this feudal system remain in place today, 
  resulting in a patchwork of mostly independent local governments 
  overseen by a neo-feudal lord.
  In keeping with their feudal origins, all the Inner Sphere nations 
  include a noble class. Many noble titles are common to several 
  nations. Terran nobility originated with the feudal system of 
  government most prevalent in the European Middle Ages, when 
  a sovereign delegated responsibility and authority over an area to 
  select subjects in exchange for a personal oath of fealty. These 
  subordinate leaders received a patent of nobility allowing them to 
  use a title commensurate with their importance.
  Nobility in the thirty-ﬁ rst century is largely hereditary, with the 
  designated heirs of nobles inheriting their parents’ rights, estates 
  and responsibilities. Though most sovereigns can grant titles to their 
  subjects, this practice is relatively rare—even for MechWarriors, 
  the modern equivalent of knights.
  THE CLANS
  While most of the peoples and social groups in the Inner Sphere 
  are culturally descended from ancient forebears that originated on 
  Terra and brought their cultures with them (along with attendant 
  ideologies, passions, bigotry and more) during the colonization 
  of space over the past thousand years, the Clans are culturally 
  unique. Made up of descendants from the original Star League 
  Defense Force, the warriors of the Clans excel in battle and all 
  things military.
  The Clans came into being when the Star League Defense Force 
  ﬂ ed the Inner sphere almost 300 years ago, following the fall of the 
  Star League. Under the direction of General Aleksandr Kerensky 
  and his son Nicholas, the army left and formed its own society 
  on what we now call the Clan homeworlds, located approximately 
  one thousand light-years from the edge of the Inner Sphere. Clan 
  society resembles that of ancient Sparta, focusing on the warrior 
  ethic and dedicated to advancing the technology of war, speciﬁ cally 
  the BattleMech.
  Each of the different Clans has its own ﬂ avor—all bound to honor, 
  some more, some less. In general, the Clans divide into two camps: 
  the Crusaders, who believe it their destiny to conquer the Inner 
  Sphere and Terra, and the Wardens, who believe their role is to 
  protect the Inner Sphere against an as yet unrealized threat. While 
  most of the Clans are secular, a few are given to mysticism. The 
  common spoken tongue among the Clans is based on Star League 
  English, but they have enhanced it with a rich collection of unique 
  words. Clansmen also rarely use contractions, considering such 
  shortened speech vulgar and lazy.
  The most powerful Crusader Clans returned to the Inner Sphere 
  in the year 3050, in hopes of conquering it and reestablishing the 
  Star League. The combined armies of the Great Houses stopped 
  them, and they have since gradually become permanent inhabitants 
  of many Inner Sphere worlds. Other Clans, not wanting to be kept 
  from the planets they see as paradise, have contrived to return to 
  the Inner Sphere as well.
  Though these Inner Sphere Clans strive to retain their unique 
  ways, various elements of Clan life have begun to erode through 
  continued contact with the Inner Sphere.
  PERIPHERY STATES
  Beyond the boundaries of the Inner Sphere lie the endless reaches 
  of the Periphery, traditionally home to independent-minded souls 
  who sought escape from the often repressive regimes of the Great 
  Houses. The Periphery is the Inner Sphere’s frontier, keeping the 
  spirit of exploration and discovery alive and well. The less savory 
  aspects of frontier living are equally abundant; numerous pirate 
  bands and petty bandit kingdoms thrive in this almost lawless region 
  of space. Largely unexplored and sparsely populated compared 
  with the Inner Sphere, the Periphery has nonetheless played a 
  pivotal role in several major interstellar events, including the fall of 
  the Star League.
  The Periphery’s reputation as backward and technologically inferior 
  is only partly true. Though many areas in it are underdeveloped 
  industrially and well behind the technology curve compared with the 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  I N T R O D U C T I O N
  7
  
  Inner Sphere, it includes scattered regions that boast cultural and 
  technological advancement. The Taurian Concordat is well known 
  for its excellent educational system and high literacy rate, while the 
  Magistracy of Canopus exempliﬁ es some of the most progressive 
  views on human rights in known space.
  Pirates
  Throughout humankind’s history, rogue elements have always 
  lived outside the conﬁ nes of civilization, willing to do whatever it 
  takes to survive. In practice, that usually means taking what they 
  need from someone else.
  Though pirates are generally associated with the Periphery, 
  interested readers can dig into the history of any Great House and 
  ﬁ nd small-time, planet-bound pirates, or pirates that made a name 
  for themselves in a few close star systems. Some pirates have 
  become legends, feared and reviled (and sometimes romanticized) 
  across known space: Lady Death, the Band of the Damned and 
  the New Belt Pirates are a few examples.
  MERCENARIES
  In a universe at war, some will always be willing to sell out to 
  the highest bidder and ﬁ ght someone else’s battles. From the 
  legendary (Wolf’s Dragoons, the Kell Hounds, the Eridani Light 
  Horse, the Northwind Highlanders) to the unknown (the Medusans, 
  the Stone Ponies), from mere ad-hoc lances to multi-regiment 
  commands, mercenaries are a staple of the Inner Sphere. Though 
  not technically a power unto themselves, they—perhaps more than 
  any private army—have raised and toppled empires.
  — From the Abridged Encyclopedia Galactica, Universal Press, 
  3067/3062
  Based on the same principles that allow a JumpShip to 
  travel between the stars, the hyperpulse generator, or HPG, 
  can instantly transmit a signal across a distance of up to ﬁ fty 
  light-years. Following its ﬁ rst public demonstration in 2630, the 
  HPG radically altered life in humanoccupied space. Before the 
  advent of the HPG, people relied on a “pony express” system 
  of JumpShips to transport important orders, news and mail 
  between inhabited systems, which often took months or even 
  years. HPG transmissions could reliably reach the remotest 
  regions of known space in a fraction of that time, enabling 
  governments to carry out operations efﬁ ciently and ordinary 
  people to communicate with friends and relatives on far-
  distant worlds. Immediately after the ﬁ rst successful test of 
  the technology, the Star League began to build HPG stations on 
  planets across known space.
  ComStar still operates most of the functioning HPGs, almost 
  all of which trace their origins to Star League times. ComStar 
  inherited the HPG network following the fall of the Star League; 
  it held a monopoly on interstellar communications for almost two 
  and a half centuries, until the events of recent years sundered the 
  organization. The Word of Blake, ComStar’s rival splinter group, 
  currently controls a sizable portion of the HPG network.
  The HPG network consists of transmit/receive stations on most 
  inhabited worlds. Stations receive “A” or “B” status, based mainly 
  upon the size of a world’s population. Class A stations are the 
  network’s main hubs, while Class B stations form the nodes. Each 
  station transmits all the messages it has been paid to send to all 
  other stations within its range. Those stations then add their own 
  messages to the batch and pass them on to the next stations in 
  line, and so on, until the messages reach their ﬁ nal destination. 
  Though sending hundreds and thousands of copies of the same 
  message around the galaxy may appear inefﬁ cient, it ensures that 
  messages reach their destinations as swiftly as possible. To avoid 
  confusion, each station automatically deletes messages that have 
  already passed through its system.
  Each station normally transmits on a set schedule. Messages 
  are processed serially and placed in a queue until they can be 
  transmitted. Class A stations transmit the most often, usually 
  once every six hours. Class B stations transmit far less frequently. 
  During Star League times, they transmitted once every twelve 
  hours; today most B stations average transmissions only once 
  every few days. The actual schedule depends mainly on the 
  number of waiting messages and how many other stations are 
  within range.
  Sometimes, transmissions can be agonizingly slow. A message 
  from Tharkad takes an average of six days to reach Terra; the 
  same message might take months to reach the most distant 
  Periphery world. Priority transmissions can be sent more quickly, 
  but at a signiﬁ cantly higher cost because the stations that pass 
  the message must be aligned correctly.
  THOSE WHO MAKE WAR
  HPG COMMUNICATIONS
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  I N T R O D U C T I O N
  8
  ARTIST: LIAM CURTNER
  PUBLICATION: A TIME OF WAR: THE BATTLETECH RPG
  YEAR: 2009
  
  —Excerpts from a promotional pamphlet originally distributed 
  by Skobel MechWorks of Terra, 3057; expanded and republished 
  3067.
  As soon as the ﬁ rst BattleMechs dominated the battleﬁ elds of 
  the twenty-ﬁ fth century, the humans that piloted these awesome 
  machines gained a power and inﬂ uence well beyond other soldiers 
  on the ﬁ eld. An
  entire social class soon formed around those who piloted 
  these increasingly important war machines. These so-called 
  MechWarriors, the modern incarnation of knights, were given 
  the monumental task of defending their homelands and their 
  rulers. As with the middle ages of Europe on ancient Terra, these 
  MechWarriors were made knights and given honors. Some were 
  even bestowed royal titles, conveying authority over entire worlds 
  and more. This romantic image of the MechWarrior-knight has 
  eroded somewhat over the past few decades, but it remains 
  strong in the hearts of the Inner Sphere’s people.
  During the Succession Wars, many MechWarriors owned their 
  ’Mechs and passed them down through generations. That custom 
  has changed radically during the past half-century. Nowadays, 
  only the Great Houses can afford the massive amounts of new 
  construction that followed the rediscovery of so much lostech. 
  Consequently, House militaries now own most ’Mechs in service 
  in the Inner Sphere. Among the Clans, all property belongs to the 
  Clan—a Clansman MechWarrior never owns his ’Mech.
  PILOTING A ’MECH
  A MechWarrior controls a BattleMech through a series of 
  several complex systems that allow a single human to manipulate 
  such a large, complicated war machine.
  Cockpit: Sitting in the cramped cockpit of a ’Mech—usually 
  located in the “head” of the ’Mech—a MechWarrior is strapped 
  into a command couch that allows him access to all of his ’Mech’s 
  systems. Foot pedals are used to steer the ’Mechs ground motion 
  as well as to ignite a ’Mech’s jump jet system (provided the ’Mech 
  has that capability). Twin joysticks located on the command 
  couch’s arms allow for torso movement, manipulation of a ’Mech’s 
  arms and full targeting capabilities of the ’Mech’s entire arsenal 
  of weapons. A battery of screens brings a plethora of information 
  before the MechWarrior: standard visual, infrared, MagScan, 
  seismic, tactical maps, satellite feeds and so on, while the ’Mech’s 
  heads-up display projects all of the relevant targeting information 
  right in front of the MechWarrior.
  Neurohelmet: All of those systems would be much more limited 
  without the neural impulse helmet, which interfaces the human 
  mind’s comprehension of the battleﬁ eld to the powerful computers 
  governing the BattleMech. Commonly called neurohelmets, these 
  bulky items normally cover a MechWarrior’s entire head, attaching 
  ﬁ rmly to the shoulders of his cooling vest. Electrodes passively scan 
  the MechWarrior’s neural activity for key signals. The primary role 
  of the neurohelmet is to aid the BattleMech with its balance, which 
  is rarely so simple on a battleﬁ eld as “stay upright and balanced 
  at all times,” something a machine could handle. More advanced 
  neurohelmets allow MechWarriors to communicate ﬁ ne shades 
  of intent on the actions they are attempting with hand and foot 
  controls, while allowing limited, ghostly input from the BattleMech 
  directly into the MechWarrior’s mind.
  BATTLEMECHS: NUTS, BOLTS AND TACTICS
  The modern BattleMech is the end result of more than three 
  thousand years of battleﬁ eld technology development. Combining 
  awesome destructive power and unparalleled maneuverability, 
  the BattleMech is perhaps the most complex machine ever 
  produced. The undisputed master of thirty-ﬁ rst century warfare, 
  the BattleMech seems destined to reign supreme centuries into 
  the future. 
  Every ’Mech contains thousands of different components, grouped 
  into four primary systems: chassis, locomotion/movement, armor 
  and weapons and power systems.
  Chassis
  Every BattleMech contains a chassis that consists of several 
  dozen “bones.” Each “bone” is a honeycombed, foamed aluminum 
  core wrapped with stressed silicon carbide monoﬁ lament and 
  protected by a rigid, titanium- steel shell. Each of these artiﬁ cial 
  “bones” has attachment points for their myomer “muscles” that 
  drive the BattleMech. This skeletal construction helps make 
  BattleMechs less vulnerable and easier to repair than vehicles 
  supported by stressed-skin shells.
  Locomotion/Movement Systems
  Two different systems are used to drive BattleMechs and control 
  their movements. Small, electrically driven actuators move a 
  ’Mech’s light weapons and sensor arrays. Bundles of polyacetylene 
  _ bers called myomers control a ’Mech’s limbs and main weapons. 
  Myomers contract when exposed to electrical current, much 
  like human muscles. If a BattleMech’s myomers are damaged in 
  battle, technicians can replace the ﬁ ber bundles with new ones or 
  “transplant” myomers from other parts of the ’Mech’s skeleton. 
  Transplanted myomer bundles cannot restore full function to a 
  damaged limb, but they do provide limited mobility and strength.
  Armor And Weapons
  Two separate layers of armor provide modern BattleMechs 
  with protection against energy and projectile weapons. Aligned 
  crystal steel is usually used for the outer layer of ’Mech armor. 
  The aligned-crystal steel has excellent heat conducting properties, 
  and so it provides excellent protection against lasers and particle 
  beam weapons. An inner layer of boron nitride impregnated 
  with diamond monoﬁ lament stops high explosive armor piercing 
  (HEAP) rounds and fast neutrons. This second layer of armor also 
  prevents any armor fragments from damaging a BattleMech’s 
  internal systems.
  Because energy weapons can be powered indeﬁ nitely by a ’Mech’s 
  onboard fusion reactor and do not require ammunition reloads, 
  BattleMechs usually carry charged particle beam weapons or 
  lasers as their primary armaments. Additionally, many BattleMechs 
  carry launching racks for short- or long-range missiles. Still other 
  ’Mechs mount rapid-ﬁ re autocannons or machine guns for use 
  against infantry, aircraft and other BattleMechs.
  Power Systems
  BattleMechs require a large, constant power supply for 
  movement and combat. The fusion reactor, which produces 
  enormous amounts of electricity from ordinary hydrogen, is the 
  most efﬁ cient system for providing this power. Because the fusion 
  reaction created by a BattleMech’s power plant releases neutrons, 
  the power plant is thickly clad in radiation shielding, which doubles 
  as additional protection for the reactor.
  MECHWARRIORS: MODERN KNIGHTS
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  I N T R O D U C T I O N
  9
  
  The fusion plant produces electricity by a process known as 
  magnetohydrodynamics. In this process, magnetic ﬁ elds are 
  used to channel plasma from the fusion reaction into a loop. 
  This plasma is electrically conductive, and so the loop functions 
  as a powerful generating coil, producing both electricity and 
  waste heat. Every BattleMech carries a system of heat pumps 
  and radiators called heat sinks to help dissipate this waste heat. 
  Heat sinks are especially important because excessively high 
  internal temperatures can disrupt the magnetic containment ﬁ elds 
  around a BattleMech’s reactor. If a power plant’s magnetic “jar” 
  is disrupted, an uncontrolled fusion reaction may occur, releasing 
  neutrons and exposing the BattleMech’s internal systems and its 
  MechWarrior to lethal radiation.
  Deﬁ ning Characteristics
  The hundreds of BattleMech models in existence display a myriad 
  of design features, but all ’Mechs share two deﬁ ning characteristics. 
  First all BattleMechs possess movement capabilities unmatched by 
  any other type of modern war machine. Second, all BattleMechs 
  possess heat-dissipation systems to reduce the internal heat levels 
  generated by their power and weapons systems.
  Movement Capabilities
  BattleMechs can attain walking or running speeds ranging from 
  thirty to two hundred kilometers per hour in open terrain. Dense 
  forests, swamps and steep slopes will slow a ’Mech, but very 
  few terrain features can stop one. In addition, many ’Mechs can 
  jump over obstacles by superheating air with their fusion reactors 
  and releasing it through so-called jump jets. (Jump-capable 
  BattleMechs operating on worlds without atmospheres often carry 
  their own reaction mass for their jets.) All BattleMechs can also 
  move underwater when crossing rivers or small lakes. 
  Spaceborne BattleMechs can make assault landings from low 
  orbit. Special reaction jets allow them to soft-land from altitudes of 
  up to 320 kilometers. During reentry, breakaway ablative shields 
  protect the entire ‘Mech.
  Heat Dissipation Systems and Strategies
  Because a BattleMech’s systems are pushed to their limits 
  during combat, ’Mechs engaged in combat rapidly generate large 
  amounts of waste heat—heat that can disrupt a fusion reactor’s 
  magnetic containment shields and impair or permanently damage 
  a ’Mech’s electronics and computer systems, thereby slowing 
  the BattleMech’s movement and reducing the accuracy of its 
  weapons. Heat sinks are one way of controlling the heat build-up 
  in a ’Mech. The heat pouring out of these radiators can produce 
  strong infrared (IR) signatures, however, which can make a ’Mech 
  easy to target.
  To sidestep this problem, MechWarriors have found other ways 
  to control heat build-up. MechWarriors often place their machines 
  in shallow lakes or rivers. (Through the processes of conduction 
  and convection, moving water helps dissipate a ’Mech’s internal 
  heat.) On temperate or cold worlds, the atmosphere itself can 
  help dissipate waste heat. On the other hand, the high outside 
  temperatures of a desert or jungle environment can exacerbate a 
  BattleMech’s heating problems.
  The most common methods by which MechWarriors control 
  heat build-up are manually regulating the movement and 
  firing rates of their ’Mechs or reprogramming the machine’s 
  movement control computer and its secondary systems. These 
  computers can be used to limit the ’Mech’s rate of activity and 
  the resulting heat build-up. For example, when a ’Mech is sent 
  to a high-temperature world, its activity rate setting may be 
  lowered. The ’Mech will move more slowly and fire less often 
  than it would on a temperate planet. When a ’Mech is sent 
  to fight in an arctic climate, the setting is raised, allowing 
  faster movement and a higher rate of fire. Reprogramming 
  is usually carried out while a BattleMech force is en route 
  to its assignment aboard DropShips. The process takes 
  approximately two weeks.
  Because BattleMechs are always adjusted for the expected 
  external temperature of their combat environments, sudden 
  increases in outside temperature can have a devastating impact on 
  a ’Mech’s ability to dissipate waste heat. Tacticians have developed 
  a whole series of battle tactics to take advantage of this ’Mech 
  characteristic. For example, commanders regularly set forests 
  on ﬁ re while enemy BattleMechs are advancing through them. 
  The superheated air roaring around the ’Mech can overload the 
  machines’ cooling systems or drastically reduce their efﬁ ciency, 
  thus hampering the BattleMechs’ combat capabilities.
  MECHWARRIORS: MODERN KNIGHTS
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  I N T R O D U C T I O N
  10
  ARTIST: MATT PLOG
  PUBLICATION: INNER SPHERE
  YEAR: 2000
  
  THE MECHANICS OF ASSAULT
  —From Modern Warfare: A Manuel of Tactics and Strategy, 2nd 
  Edition, by permission of the College of Military Arts, New Avalon 
  Institute of Science
  The nature of interstellar transport in the thirty-ﬁ rst century 
  creates a speciﬁ c pattern for planetary assault determined by the 
  JumpShips and DropShips.
  JumpShips
  JumpShip is a key vehicle in launching a planetary assault. These 
  large interstellar transport vessels contain a Kearny-Fuchida 
  hyperspace jump drive (K-F drive) that allows instantaneous 
  transportation across distances of up to 30 light-years. The 
  K-F drive is expensive, delicate, and large, taking up roughly 95 
  percent of the ship’s mass. It leaves little room for armor, weapons 
  or cargo, and certainly cannot support an interplanetary drive to 
  propel the ship from its arrival point in the planetary system to 
  the target planet. For this job, a JumpShip carries one or more 
  DropShips.
  JumpShips are never considered military targets. Ever since 
  the brutal Second Succession War, an unspoken ban on attacking 
  JumpShips has preserved humankind’s ability to travel across 
  interstellar space; this ban has not completely halted assaults on 
  JumpShips, but it has made them very rare.
  Jump Points
  To make a hyperspace jump, the K-F drive creates an energy 
  bubble around the ship that “punches a hole” through space. 
  Because this bubble cannot form properly in the presence of 
  a strong gravitational ﬁ eld, a JumpShip most often enters a 
  planetary system through one of the system’s two closest points 
  of gravitational stability. These points are the zenith and the nadir 
  of a system’s gravity well, along the line that passes through the 
  system’s gravitational center and that is perpendicular to the plane 
  of the star system (see diagram).
  Pirate Points: The zenith and nadir are the most commonly 
  used jump points, especially for civilian trafﬁ c, but are not the 
  only options. Alternate jump points exist in a sphere around the 
  system’s star, as well as at other points of gravitational stability 
  in the system (some of them being Lagrange points). Unlike the 
  zenith and nadir points, these non-standard points do not have ﬁ xed 
  locations. The complex gravitational interaction of the system’s 
  stars, planets, and other astronomical bodies means that non-
  standard points are constantly moving, appearing, and disappearing 
  at irregular intervals. This characteristic makes calculating such 
  points extremely difﬁ cult. Additionally, vessels using non-standard 
  points stand a far lower chance of being rescued in the event of a 
  malfunction than those using standard points. For this reason, non-
  standard points are generally used in emergencies or by JumpShip 
  crews seeking to conceal their arrivals in star systems, such as 
  pirate vessels—a fact that earned nonstandard jump points the 
  nickname of pirate points.
  Detection: An emerging JumpShip creates a powerful 
  electromagnetic (EM) pulse, detectable within hours of the jump. 
  Though it is possible for an enemy JumpShip to avoid detection by 
  the planet it intends to target, the means of accomplishing this 
  feat are difﬁ cult. By learning the enemy’s shipping patterns, for 
  example, an attacking force might devise a way to knock out or delay 
  an enemy JumpShip and send one of their own to take its place. 
  The arriving ship, however, would need to broadcast appropriate 
  identiﬁ cation codes to maintain the charade. The sheer logistical 
  difﬁ culty of managing all this makes such deceptions a rare tactic. 
  Therefore, in practice, the enemy almost always detects an arriving 
  JumpShip and is ready to meet the invasion force head-on.
  DropShips
  Carried by JumpShips, DropShips transport troops and equipment 
  from the system’s jump points to the target planet. DropShips 
  are equipped with fusion-powered interplanetary drives that propel 
  them through space. Most DropShips are transport vessels, with 
  their mass divided between engines and cargo. Many are also 
  equipped with armor and weapons to defend themselves and their 
  passengers if necessary. A large military DropShip often boasts 
  more ﬁ repower than a company of BattleMechs. Some DropShips, 
  known as assault ships, have little or no space for transporting 
  troops or cargo, but are bristling with weapons intended to hunt 
  down enemy DropShips.
  After a JumpShip arrives at a jump point, the DropShips it is 
  carrying detach from their docking collars and begin the long trip 
  in-system. Depending on the size of the star and other factors, the 
  trip can take hours, days, or even weeks in the case of very large 
  stars. A typical system transit takes a week to ten days. 
  Upon arrival in orbit around the target planet, the DropShip 
  lands and unloads its cargo—usually well behind friendly lines, as 
  DropShips are expensive and can play a vital role in the event of a 
  tactical withdrawal.
  Combat Drops: Sometimes battleﬁ eld conditions call for landing 
  troops closer to the enemy than a DropShip can feasibly manage. 
  In these cases, a commander can call for a combat drop, a risky 
  deployment technique made possible by the unique construction of 
  BattleMechs. In a combat drop, rather than the DropShip landing 
  on the planet’s surface, the troops jump out of it at low altitude and 
  fall to the surface. This tactic avoids the necessity of risking the 
  DropShip by landing it in hazardous terrain or in the middle of enemy 
  lines, while allowing rapid troop deployment directly to such areas. 
  The dropped forces land safely by using jump jets or disposable 
  jump packs to slow and guide their descent—though even with this 
  equipment, combat drops remain extremely hazardous.
  Even well-trained pilots can damage their ’Mechs if they make a 
  minor altitude miscalculation or a slightly off-balance landing. For 
  these reasons, combat drops are performed only when absolutely 
  necessary. Combat drops can be made from very high or orbital 
  altitudes if the dropped forces are encased in ablative cocoons 
  that burn away during atmospheric entry.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  I N T R O D U C T I O N
  11
  
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  I N T R O D U C T I O N
  12
  ZENITH — 10.2AU
  PROXIMITY LIMIT — 10.2AU
  SATURN — 9.6AU
  JUPITER & 
  TROJANS — 5.2AU
  ASTEROID
  BELT — 2.2-3.2AU
  ZEN TH — 10.2AU
  ZENITH — 10.2AU
  PROXIMITY LIMIT — 10.2AU
  PROXIMITY LIMIT — 10.2AU
  ATURN — 9.6AU
  U
  SATURN — 9.6AU
  U
  —
  JUPITER &
  JUPITER &
  TROJANS — 5.2AU
  O
  5.2AUU
  TROJANS 
  O
  —
  T
  O D
  T
  ASTEROID
  ASTEROID
  T
  T — 2.2-3.2A
  —
  LT — 2.2-3.2AU
  BELT — 2.2-3.2AU
  —
  THE MECHANICS OF ASSAULT
  
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  I N T R O D U C T I O N
  13
  URANUS — 19.2AU
  NEPTUNE — 30.1AU
  TO ZENITH
  2AU
  TO NADIR
  MERCURY — .39AU
  SOL
  VENUS — .72AU
  TERRA — 1AU
  MARS — 1.52AU
  URANUS — 19.2AU
  URANUS — 19.2AU
  NEPTUNE — 30.1AU
  NEPTUNE — 30.1AU
  TO ZENITH
  TO ZENITH
  2AU
  2AU
  TO NAD
  TO NADIR
  MERCURY — .39AU
  MERCURY — .39AU
  SOL
  SOL
  VENUS — .72AU
  VENUS — .72AU
  TERRA — 1AU
  TERRA — 1AU
  MARS — 1.52AU
  MARS — 1.52AU
  
   
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: CLASSIC BATTLETECH: A GAME OF ARMORED COMBAT
  YEAR: 2002
  YEAR: 2002
  YEAR: 2002
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  14
  
   
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: CLASSIC BATTLETECH: A GAME OF ARMORED COMBAT
  YEAR: 2002
  YEAR: 2002
  YEAR: 2002
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  15
  
  T I M E L I N E
  BATTLETECH ERAS
  CIVIL WAR (3062, 3067)
  The Clan threat is eventually lessened with the 
  complete destruction of a Clan. With that massive 
  external threat apparently neutralized, internal 
  confl icts explode around the Inner Sphere. House 
  Liao conquers its former Commonality, the St. Ives 
  Compact; a rebellion of military units belonging to 
  House Kurita sparks a war with their powerful border 
  enemy, Clan Ghost Bear; the fabulously powerful 
  Federated Commonwealth of House Steiner and House 
  Davion collapses into fi ve long years of bitter civil war.
  JIHAD (3067, CURRENT)
  Following the Federated Commonwealth Civil War, 
  the leaders of the Great Houses meet and disband 
  the new Star League, declaring it a sham. The 
  pseudo-religious Word of Blake—a splinter group of 
  ComStar, the protectors and controllers of interstellar 
  communication—launch the Jihad: an interstellar 
  war that will ultimately pit every faction against each 
  other and even against themselves, as weapons of mass 
  destruction are used for the fi rst time in centuries while new 
  and frightening technologies are likewise unleashed.
  DARK AGE (3132+)
  Under the guidance of Devlin Stone, the Republic 
  of the Sphere is born at the heart of the Inner Sphere 
  following the Jihad. One of the more extensive 
  periods of peace begins to break out as the 32nd 
  century dawns. The factions, to one degree or another, 
  embrace disarmament and the massive armies of 
  the Succession Wars begin to fade. However, in 3132 
  eighty percent of interstellar communications collapses, 
  throwing the universe into chaos. Wars almost immediately 
  erupt and the factions begin rebuilding their armies.
  STAR LEAGUE (2570)
  Ian Cameron, ruler of the Terran Hegemony, 
  concludes decades of tireless eff ort with the 
  creation of the Star League, a political and 
  military alliance between all Great Houses 
  and the Hegemony. Star League armed forces 
  immediately launch the Reunifi cation War, 
  forcing the Periphery realms to join. For the next 
  two centuries, humanity experiences a golden age 
  across the thousand light-years of human- occupied 
  space known as the Inner Sphere. It also sees the creation of the most powerful 
  military in human history.
  SUCCESSION WARS (3025, 3030, 3040)
  Every last member of First Lord Richard Cameron’s 
  family is killed during a coup launched by Stefan 
  Amaris. Following the thirteen-year war to unseat 
  him, the rulers of each of the fi ve Great Houses 
  disband the Star League. General Aleksandr 
  Kerensky departs with eighty percent of the Star 
  League Defense Force beyond known space and 
  the Inner Sphere collapses into centuries of warfare 
  known as the Succession Wars that will eventually result 
  in a massive loss of technology across most worlds.
  CLAN INVASION (3052, 3057)
  A mysterious invading force strikes the coreward 
  region of the Inner Sphere. The invaders, called the 
  Clans, are descendants of Kerensky’s SLDF troops, 
  forged into a society dedicated to becoming the 
  greatest fi ghting force in history. With vastly superior 
  technology and warriors, the Clans conquer world 
  after world. Eventually this outside threat will forge 
  a new Star League, something hundreds of years of 
  warfare failed to accomplish. In addition, the Clans will act 
  as a catalyst for a technological renaissance.
  The BattleTech universe is a living, vibrant entity that grows each year as more sourcebooks and fi ction are published. A dynamic universe, its setting and 
  characters evolve over time within a highly detailed continuity framework, bringing everything to life in a way a static game universe cannot match.
  However, the same dynamic energy that makes BattleTech so compelling can also make it confusing, with so many sourcebooks published over the years. As 
  people encounter BattleTech, get hooked and start to obtain sourcebooks, they need to know where a particular sourcebook is best used along the BattleTech
  timeline.
  To help quickly and easily convey the timeline of the BattleTech universe—and to allow a player to easily “plug in” a given sourcebook—we’ve divided BattleTech
  into six major eras. (For those that own the BattleTech Introductory Box Set, the year dates in parentheses following each era’s title correspond to the maps found 
  in the Inner Sphere at a Glance sourcebook.)
  Note that if a Catalyst Game Labs BattleTech product does not contain an era logo, then it is considered a core rulebook or supplement to be used across all eras, 
  such as the Introductory Box Set, Total Warfare and so on.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  16
  BATTLETECH TIMELINE
  
  T I M E L I N E
  ARTIST: JIM HOLLOWAY
  PUBLICATION: SUCCESSION WARS BOARD GAME
  YEAR: 1987
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  17
  
  T I M E L I N E
  2005
  • Crippen Station put into orbit
  2007
  • Crippen Station ﬁ tted with construction 
  platforms
  2011
  • Tikonov Accords signed
  • Second Soviet Civil War begins
  2014
  • Second Soviet Civil War ends
  • Western Alliance formed
  2015
  • Alliance World Parliament formed
  2016
  • Western Alliance Space Command formed
  2017
  • AS Altair launched
  2018
  • Kearny and Fuchida begin publishing theories
  2020
  • First self-sustaining fusion reaction developed
  2021
  • First commercially available fusion power plant 
  developed
  2022
  • Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere formed
  2024
  • Osaka Agreement announced
  2026
  • First working fusion drive developed
  2027
  • AS Columbia voyages to Mars
  2028
  • Magellan Project initiated
  2030
  • Magellan One launched
  2086
  • Terran Alliance formed
  2102
  • Kearny-Fuchida drive proven feasible
  2103
  • Deimos Project authorized
  2107
  • First hyperspatial jump made
  2108
  • Raymond Bache becomes ﬁ rst human to 
  experience hyperspatial jump
  • TAS Pathﬁ nder makes jump to Tau Ceti IV (New 
  Earth)
  2110
  • First scientiﬁ c outpost outside Sol system 
  established
  2112
  • Research outpost established on New Earth
  2116
  • TAS Ark launched
  • First interstellar colony established on New 
  Earth
  2120
  • Terran Space Navy created
  2122
  • TAS Charger launched
  2128
  • TAS Liberator misjumps
  • Colonization Procedure Referendum passed
  2168
  • First Alliance Grand Survey initiated
  2172
  • First Alliance Grand Survey completed, 108 
  worlds colonized in a 60 light-year radius
  2177
  • Ryan Cartel formed
  2193
  • Chesterton Trade League founded
  2195
  Second Alliance Grand Survey completed, 204 
   •
  worlds colonized in a 85 light-year radius
  2219
  Third Alliance Grand Survey completed, 316 
   •
  worlds colonized in a 120 light-year radius
  2225
  • Korvin Doctrine established
  2235
  • Tamar Pact formed
  • Fourth Alliance Grand Survey of Inhabited 
  Planets completed, 628 worlds in a 250 light-
  year radius
  ARTIST: BRENT EVANS
  PUBLICATION: HANDBOOK: HOUSE DAVION
  YEAR: 2007
  PRE-STAR LEAGUE ERA
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  18
  
  T I M E L I N E
  2236
  • Denebola and Freedom declare themselves 
  independent
  • Outer Reaches Rebellion begins
  2237
  • Alliance Liberal Party comes to power
  • New Avalon Grain Rebellion
  2238
  • Marik declares independence
  • Charles Marik forms Republic of Marik
  • Outer Reaches Rebellion ends
  2239
  • Covenant of New Avalon ratiﬁ ed
  2241
  • Marik Constitution passed at Constitutional 
  Convention of Republic of Marik
  • Federation of Oriente founded
  2242
  • Terran Alliance makes Demarcation Declaration
  • Exodus begins
  2243
  • Tikonov Grand Union founded
  2245
  • St. Ives Mercantile Association founded
  2250
  • Sian Supremacy founded
  • Rim Worlds Republic formed
  • Calderon Flotilla leaves Aix-La-Chappelle
  2255
  • Second Covenant of New Avalon ratiﬁ ed
  2270
  • Capellan Hegemony founded
  • Capellan Renaissance begins
  2271
  • Republic of Marik, Federation of Oriente, and 
  Principality of Regulus sign Document of 
  Incorporation, forming Free Worlds League
  • Treaty of Marik passed
  2293
  • Stewart War takes place
  • First New Avalon-built freighter dedicated
  2295
  • Stewart Commonality annexed by FWL
  • James McKenna takes command of Terran 
  Alliance Navy
  2299
  • Federation of Skye formed
  2300
  • TAS Dreadnought, the ﬁ rst true combat 
  warship, launched
  2302
  • Alliance of Galedon formed
  2305
  • Capellan-Supremacy War begins
  2306
  • Ryerson Accords signed
  • FWL allies with Capellan Hegemony
  2308
  • Arboris secedes from Capellan Hegemony
  • FWL withdraws alliance with Capellan Hegemony
  2309
  • Capellan-Supremacy War ends
  2310
  • Capellan Commonality formed
  2311
  • Council of One summit meeting
  2314
  • Terran Alliance dissolved
  2315
  • Terran Hegemony formed
  • Duchy of Liao formed
  • Terran Hegemony Charter issued
  2316
  • Juliano Marik signs Treaty of Terra
  • James McKenna elected TH Director-General
  • TH invasion of Quentin, Errai, and Helen
  2317
  • Crucis Pact signed, forming Federated Suns
  2319
  • Draconis Combine founded
  2320
  • TH invasion of Terra Firma, Capella and Nanking
  2335
  • Taurian Concordat formed
  2338
  • TH invasion of Syrma
  2340
  • TH Hegemony Research Alliance Department 
  created
  2341
  • Lyran Commonwealth founded
  2343
  • TH Hegemony Business Information Exchange 
  formed
  2345
  • Federated Suns and Capellan Commonality sign 
  Acala Pact
  2346
  • Federated Suns and Capellan Commonality sign 
  Almach Accord
  2350
  • TH Operation Musclebound takes place
  2351
  • TH Peers List created
  2365
  • Aris Crisis begins in Capellan Commonality
  2366
  • Capellan Confederation founded
  • FWL begins occupation of Capellan 
  Confederation border worlds
  TERRAN HEGEMONY ERA
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  19
  
  T I M E L I N E
  2367
  • Aris Crisis ends
  • FS occupies Capella Prime, Franco Liao orders 
  orbital bombardment of Capella Prime
  • CC capital moved to Sian
  • TH Military Recruitment and Preparedness Bill 
  passed
  2368
  • CC Prefectorate established
  2373
  • FS Board of Magistrates formed
  2376
  • Lyran Commonwealth Articles of Acceptance 
  signed
  2389
  • TH Grand Survey taken
  2391
  • TH construction of Castles Brian begins
  2392
  • TH Succession Bill passed
  2398
  • First Andurien War begins
  • Age of War begins
  2399
  • Novaya Zemlya Incident
  2404
  • First Andurien War ends
  • Duchy of Graham-Marik formed in FWL
  2407
  • Draconis Combine invasion of Tamar Pact
  • Tharkad named Lyran capital
  2408
  • LC makes Vega Strike
  2412
  • Tintavel Massacre
  • Ares Conventions adopted
  2413
  • Lyran Commonwealth Scout Corps formed
  2415
  • Outworlds Alliance formed
  2416
  • War between LC and FWL begins
  2417
  • FS November Conspiracy begins
  • FS Principalities formed
  • Outworlds Alliance Charter ratiﬁ ed
  2418
  • Armistice between LC and FWL concluded
  • Rim War begins
  2420
  • War between LC and FWL renewed
  2422
  • Rim War ends
  2427
  • War between LC and FWL renewed
  • FWL War Powers Act and Parliamentary 
  Committee disbanded
  2431
  • TH seizes Kentares system
  2432
  • TH Nomination laws revised
  2439
  • TH invents BattleMech
  2443
  • First use of BattleMechs in combat
  2451
  • Time of Tribulation begins in Capellan 
  Confederation
  2455
  • Capellan limit on military rank instituted
  • LC gains BattleMech technology
  2457
  • FS gains BattleMech technology
  2461
  • DC gains BattleMech technology
  2462
  • FWL gains BattleMech technology
  • Capellan Confederation’s Xanthe operation takes 
  place
  2463
  • LC Long March Campaign launched
  2470
  • First general strike in TH history
  2473
  • FS Act of Succession passed
  2475
  • FWL Invasion of TH stalled by coup
  • First full-scale BattleMech vs. BattleMech battle
  2478
  • FWL Treaty with TH signed
  2480
  • CC Decree of Prime Extension issued
  2488
  • Loki Incident
  • RWR becomes hereditary Amaris holding
  2496
  • First DropShip used
  2505
  • Order of Lorix formed
  2510
  • Rasalhague and DC unite
  2511
  • TC and FS sign Omsol Accords
  2512
  • Decree of Retention issued in Capellan 
  Confederation
  2518
  • FS Treason Trials begin
  TERRAN HEGEMONY ERA
  ARTIST: GERHARD MOSZI
  PUBLICATION: HANDBOOK: HOUSE MARIK
  YEAR: 2005
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  20
  
  T I M E L I N E
  2520
  • FS Treason Trials end
  2521
  • CC Court of Philosophical Inquiry established
  2523
  • Decimation of Capellan House of Scions
  2524
  • House of Scions closed
  • Davion Civil War begins
  2527
  • FWL Ambassador expelled from CC
  2528
  • Second Andurien War begins
  • TC and CC ﬁ ght Ariana’s War
  2530
  • Kossandra Centrella founds the Magistracy of 
  Canopus
  2531
  • Second Andurien War ends
  • Constitution of Magistracy Free States 
  established
  2537
  • Davion Civil War ends
  • FS Principalities disbanded
  2543
  • Supreme Court of Lyran Commonwealth created
  2546
  • FS and CC sign Bell Accord
  2549
  • TH September Revolt
  2550
  • Sarna Mandate developed
  2551
  • Third Andurien War begins
  2556
  • Third Andurien War ends
  • CC joins Terran League
  • Age of War ends
  • TH, CC and FWL sign Treaty of Geneva
  2558
  • Tharkan Accords signed
  • LC agrees to join the Star League
  2566
  • FWL instigates economic crisis in FS
  2567
  • New Avalon Accords signed
  • FS agrees to join the Star League
  2569
  • Treaty of Vega signed
  • DC agrees to join the Star League
  2571
  • Star League Accords signed
  • Star League formed
  • Shandra Noruff-Cameron appointed Commander-
  in-Chief of Star League Defense Force
  • Ian Cameron named First Lord of the Star 
  League
  2572
  • Star League Directive 21 instituted
  • Santiago Massacre
  • United Triumph Military Exercises take place
  • Border Guards Agreement passed
  • Executive Order 4 issued
  2573
  • Malagrotta Affair
  • RWR Universal Act of Loyalty passed
  • Bureau of Star League Affairs created
  2574
  • Harsh Periphery trade laws and taxes passed
  2575
  • LC Tax Reform Debate of 2575
  • Pollux Proclamation issued
  • RWR Manchester Directive issued
  • Reuniﬁ cation War begins
  • Taurian Campaign begins
  2576
  • Case Amber adopted
  2577
  • Canopian Campaign begins
  2578
  • Star League ofﬁ cially declares war
  2579
  • Star League renounces tenets of Ares 
  Conventions
  2581
  • LC Operation Mailed Fist launched
  • Star League forces orbitally bombard Robsart
  • OA Consadine Mission launched
  • Outworlds Campaign begins
  • Rim Worlds Campaign begins
  2582
  • Shippers License Act passed
  2583
  • TC Case Black enacted
  2584
  • FWL captures Canopus IV
  • Freebooters War begins
  STAR LEAGUE ERA
  ARTIST: CHRIS LEWIS
  PUBLICATION: HANDBOOK: MAJOR PERIPHERY STATES
  YEAR: 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  21
  
  T I M E L I N E
  2585
  • OA Peace of Cerberus negotiated
  • Outworlds Campaign ends
  2588
  • FWL gains control of Magistracy of Canopus
  • Freebooters War ends
  • Canopian Campaign ends
  2592
  • LC Estates-General disbanded
  2596
  • TC surrenders
  • Rim Provisional Government surrenders
  • Taurian Campaign ends
  • Rim Worlds Campaign ends
  2597
  • Reuniﬁ cation War ends
  • TC, MC, RWR and OA become Territorial States 
  of the Star League
  2598
  • Capellan Decree of Succession issued
  2600
  • Good Years begin
  2604
  • Civil government on Canopus restored
  • Kerensky family named “Defenders of the First 
  Lord”
  2605
  • Last Star League forces leave TC
  2606
  • Executive Order 34 issued
  2607
  • Last Star League forces leave OA
  • Territorial States given Associate-Member 
  status
  2611
  • LC Estates-General reconvened
  2617
  • DC capital moved to Luthien
  2623
  • Star League system of currency adopted
  • LC Businessman’s Strike of 2623
  2630
  • First HPG message transmitted
  2640
  • First Martial Olympiad
  2650
  • Good Years end
  2651
  • Star League levies new taxes against territorial 
  states
  2652
  • DC industrial development program initiated
  2660
  • LC rescinds foreign tariffs
  2667
  • Scourge of Death makes ﬁ rst appearance in 
  FWL
  2676
  • House units allowed to compete in Martial 
  Olympiads
  2678
  • Marik estate bombed by Scourge of Death
  • TC passes Education Reform Act
  2681
  • Rim Commonality separates from Principality of 
  Regulus
  • First duel involving SLDF MechWarrior fought
  2688
  • First Land-Air ‘Mech produced
  2700
  • Aleksandr Kerensky born
  2703
  • Purge of FWL begins
  2711
  • Capellan Decree of Expulsion issued
  2728
  • War of Davion Succession begins
  2729
  • FWL Parliament dissolved and arrested
  • War of Davion Succession ends
  2734
  • FWL Treaty of Verona signed
  • FWL Parliament reconvened
  •  
  2735
  • FWL Intelligence Act passed
  • FS Preparedness Act passed
  2736
  • Last Martial Olympiad
  2738
  • Simon Cameron named First Lord of the Star 
  League
  • Aleksandr Kerensky named Commander-in-Chief 
  of SLDF
  2750
  • Simon Cameron begins tour of Star League
  2751
  • Simon Cameron killed
  • Richard Cameron named First Lord of the Star 
  League
  • Aleksandr Kerensky named Star League Regent
  STAR LEAGUE ERA
  ARTIST: DAN SMITH
  PUBLICATION: BLOODRIGHT
  YEAR: 1992
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  22
  
  T I M E L I N E
  2752
  • Laws imposing heavy taxes on Periphery passed
  2755
  • Birthday Proclamations passed
  2760
  • FS invades CC in Border War
  2762
  • Border War ends
  • Richard Cameron comes of age
  • Executive Order 156 issued and retracted
  2763
  • Taxation Edict passed, but rejected by the 
  Periphery nations
  2765
  • 18 Periphery worlds secede from Star League
  2766
  • Stefan Amaris kills all known Camerons, seizes 
  95 TH worlds, and gains control of 70 
  percent of TH HPGs
  2767
  • Amaris-Kerensky Civil War begins
  • RWR invaded
  • Stefan Amaris declares himself First Lord of the 
  Star League
  2769
  • RWR destroyed
  2772
  • SLDF TH Campaign begins
  2777
  • Operation Liberation launched
  2779
  • Terra liberated
  • Stefan Amaris executed
  2780
  • Jerome Blake appointed Minister of 
  Communications
  • Aleksandr Kerensky stripped of title of Protector
  2781
  • Star League disbanded
  2782
  • Each Lord of the High Council individually 
  gives Jerome Blake responsibility for the 
  reconstruction of Terra
  2783
  • Court of the Star League sealed
  2784
  • FWL Resolution 288 passed
  • FWL Rule of 75 repealed
  • 80 percent of SLDF undertakes Operation 
  Exodus, the remainder pledging assistance to 
  the  Terran reconstruction effort
  • Department of Communications First Circuit 
  reestablished
  • Prinz Eugen Incident
  • General Order 137 issued
  2785
  • Conrad Toyama appointed Chief Administrator of 
  Dieron HPG
  • ComStar Letter of Credit instituted
  • Federated Suns suffers Towne Debacle
  2786
  • First Succession War begins
  • Department of Communications changes its 
  name to ComStar
  • ComStar’s Operation Silver Shield approved and 
  begun
  • Minoru Kurita proclaims himself First Lord of 
  the Star League
  • Magistracy of Canopus issues Declaration of 
  Independence
  • Pentagon Worlds settled
  2787
  • Kenyon Marik declares himself First Lord of the 
  Star League
  • Neutrality of ComStar outlined by 
  Communications Protocol of 2787
  • Federated Suns War Zone Actions become law
  2788
  • Operation Silver Shield amended to include Terra 
  only
  • All HPGs shut down
  • Military portion of Operation Silver Shield takes 
  place
  • ComStar takes Terra
  2789
  • New Delos Massacre
  • ComStar Mercenary Review Board formed
  2791
  • ComStar Archives Branch formed
  2796
  • Kentares IV Massacre
  2798
  • First FS offensive against DC
  • FS Reformation begins
  2801
  • FS Reformation ends
  • DeChavilier Massacre
  • Aleksandr Kerensky dies
  • Nicholas Kerensky leads second Exodus
  • Exodus Civil Wars begin
  2802
  • ComStar makes its ﬁ rst true proﬁ t
  2808
  • Ilsa Liao renounces claim to First Lordship
  • Second FS offensive against DC
  2811
  • ComStar ROM formed
  • Third FS offensive against DC
  2812
  • LC Estates-General disbanded
  2813
  • Taurian-Canopian War begins
  2814
  • Taurian-Canopian War ends
  SUCCESSION WARS ERA
  ARTIST: CHRIS LEWIS
  PUBLICATION: HANDBOOK: MAJOR PERIPHERY STATES
  YEAR: 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  23
  
  T I M E L I N E
  2815
  • Nicholas Kerensky proclaims himself ﬁ rst ilKhan 
  of the Clans
  2818
  • Capellan Science Foundation founded
  2819
  • Jerome Blake dies
  • Conrad Toyama named Prime Administrator of 
  CS
  • ROM purge initiated
  • ComStar Order formed
  2820
  • Conrad Toyama visits House leaders and raises 
  HPG rates
  2821
  • First Succession War ends
  • LC and FWL sign Peace Accords of Bella I
  • Clans return to Pentagon Worlds
  2822
  • Exodus Civil Wars end 
  • DC institutes new mercenary payment plan
  • LC Estates-General reconvened
  2823
  • LC taxes ComStar and is Interdicted
  • ComStar logo created
  • Clan Wolverine annihilation begins
  2824
  • LC taxes and ComStar Interdiction lifted
  • Conrad Toyama begins recruitment trip in 
  Periphery
  • Clan Wolverine annihilated
  2825
  • Minnesota Tribe attacks Svelvik, Jarrett, 
  Richmond and Trondheim
  2826
  • ComStar News Bureau formed
  2830
  • Second Succession War begins
  2834
  • Nicholas Kerensky killed
  • Clan Wolf absorbs Clan Widowmaker
  2837
  • Oriente HPG destroyed
  • FWL Interdicted
  • ComStar War begins
  • Conrad Toyama dies and is named a saint
  2838
  • FWL Interdiction lifted
  • ComStar War ends
  • Organizational Edict 3056 expands ROM
  • ComStar’s Operation Holy Shroud begins
  • ISF attached to Draconis Combine Mustered 
  Soldiery
  2840
  • Chesterton Decree issued by Capellan 
  Confederation
  • DC launches ﬁ rst offensive against LC
  2841
  • Oriente HPG rebuilt
  • FS launches major offensive against DC
  2842
  • FWL Parliament votes to resume all military 
  funding
  2843
  • Operation Holy Shroud ends
  2845
  • LC Estates-General disbanded
  2849
  • LC Estates- General reconvened
  • LC Triumvirate formed
  2853
  • LCS Invincible, last known operational WarShip 
  in the Inner Sphere, misjumps and is lost
  2854
  • DC launches second offensive against LC
  • FS Marathon Offensive begins
  • Clan Coyote invents the OmniMech
  2860
  TC undergoes Constitutional Crisis of 2860
   •
  2861
  • ComStar’s Doctrinal Edict of 2861 formalizes 
  process of naming Primus
  • Federated Suns St. Ives Raid takes place
  2864
  • Successor States meet in failed peace talks
  • Second Succession War ends
  • DC Shadow War begins
  2866
  • Third Succession War begins
  • DC Shadow War ends
  2868
  • Clans ﬁ rst use Elementals
  • Clan Smoke Jaguar absorbs Clan Mongoose
  2870
  • FS Cutthroat Fiasco
  2877
  • ComStar ROM stages Black December incident
  2888
  • Sian University founded
  SUCCESSION WARS ERA
  ARTIST: DES HANLEY
  PUBLICATION: INNER SPHERE
  YEAR: 2000
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  24
  
  T I M E L I N E
  2901
  • Andrea Marteen dies
  • Dwight Kurstin named Primus of CS
  • First Circuit revolts and leaves Terra
  • ComStar “Witch-Hunt” transmission sent
  • Terra Interdicted
  • Court of the Star League unsealed
  • ComStar’s Operation Winged Crusader begins
  2902
  • ComStar Civil War covered up by ROM
  • Court of the Star League resealed
  2905
  • FS and CC sign Armistice of Van Diemen IV
  2906
  • FWL Home Defense Act passed
  2908
  • LC Military Services Acts modiﬁ ed
  2911
  • DC Gray Dragons formed
  2912
  • Clan Smoke Jaguar puts down the Londerholm 
  Revolt
  2913
  • LC Operation Freedom begins
  2920
  • ComStar Periphery Communications Link begun
  • Johann O’Reilly forms Marian Hegemony
  2921
  • DC Davarapala Accords signed
  2933
  • ComStar Guards and Militia formed
  2952
  • Federated Suns Great Lee Turkey Shoot
  • Federated Suns Warrior’s Cabal formed
  2955
  • Some MC Elector positions become hereditary
  2959
  • Adrienne Sims begins having nightmares about 
  an invasion from beyond the Periphery
  • ComStar Explorer Corps formed
  2961
  • First Explorer Corps ships enter the Periphery
  2964
  • CC Decree of Martial Unity issued
  2966
  • FWL Concord of Danais signed
  2979
  • ComStar Tripitz affair
  • Operation Holy Shroud II begins
  2985
  • Clan Sea Fox becomes Clan Diamond Shark
  2987
  • LC Deep Raid of 2987
  2988
  • Capellan Death Commandos formed
  • First Circuit reorganized to include Tharkad, 
  Atreus, Sian and New Avalon
  2989
  • FWL Special Resolution 512 passed
  • DC Strike of 2989
  2996
  • FWL Accountability Edict issued
  • FWL Logistics Act passed
  3000
  • ComStar begins extensive recruitment in the 
  Periphery
  • Wolf’s Dragoons Compromise
  3001
  • ComStar begins supplying Bandit Kings
  3002
  • LC Operation Concentrated Weakness begins
  3004
  • ComStar Jolly Roger Affair takes place
  • Wolf’s Dragoons leave for the Inner Sphere
  3005
  • Capellan Ministry of Development reorganized
  • Wolf’s Dragoons appear in FS
  3009
  • Wolf’s Dragoons return to Clan Wolf for reﬁ tting
  3010
  • ComStar instigates Marik Civil War
  3014
  • Anton Marik begins Marik Civil War
  3015
  • Marik Civil War ends
  • New Avalon Institute of Science created
  3019
  • Wolf’s Dragoons return to Clan Wolf again for 
  reﬁ tting
  3020
  • OA Educational Exchange Program begins
  3022
  • Concord of Kapteyn signed
  • McCarron’s War begins
  • Federated-Commonwealth Alliance Document 
  signed
  3024
  • Concord of Kapteyn ratiﬁ ed by all members
  3025
  • Third Succession War ends
  • McCarron’s War ends
  • Capellan Confederation’s Operation 
  Doppelganger takes place
  3026
  • Federated Suns’ Operation Galahad 3026 takes 
  place
  SUCCESSION WARS ERA
  2964
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  25
  
  T I M E L I N E
  3027
  • Operation Galahad 3027 takes place
  • Lyran Commonwealth Operation Thor 3027 
  takes place
  3028
  • Fourth Succession War begins
  • Northwind Agreement takes effect
  • Capellan Confederation’s Operation Riposte 
  takes place
  • Gray Death Legion discovers Helm Library Core
  • Federated Commonwealth unofﬁ cially formed
  • Greater Valkyrate formed
  3029
  • St. Ives Compact formed
  • Tikonov Free Republic formed
  • Capellan Confederation’s Operation Intruders 
  Communion takes place
  • FS framed for destruction of Sarna HPG and 
  Interdicted
  • ComStar covertly attacks NAIS
  • ComStar ‘Mechs stationed at FS HPGs
  • FS Interdiction lifted
  • DC and Wolf’s Dragoons battle on Crossing
  3030
  • Fourth Succession War ends
  • Duchy of Andurien secedes from FWL
  • FWL Internal Emergency Act passed
  • ComStar Operation Rosebud initiated
  • Federated Suns’ Sarna March created
  • Andurien/MC invasion of CC begins
  • ComStar gives Star League BattleMechs to DC
  3031
  • CC attacked by Andurien/Canopus alliance
  • FS absorbs Tikonov Free Republic
  3034
  • Free Rasalhague Republic formed
  • Operation Rosebud ends
  • ComStar Operation Flush begins
  • DC Ronin War takes place
  • FS and LC undergo Skye Crisis
  • Circinus Federation begins invasion of Illyrian 
  Palatinate
  3035
  • ComStar Readjustment Act of 3035 passed
  • MH invades Astrokaszy
  3036
  • St. Ives Compact founded
  3037
  • FWL Addendum to the Incorporation passed
  • Andurien regained by FWL
  3038
  • ComStar ‘Mechs stationed at CC HPGs
  3039
  • War of 3039 begins
  3040
  • War of 3039 ends
  3041
  • ComStar ‘Mechs stationed at LC HPGs
  • Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth 
  created
  3042
  • Circinus Civil War begins
  3043
  • FWL League General Accounting Ofﬁ ce created
  3044
  • Operation Flush ends
  3047
  • TC forces destroy misjumped FC JumpShip
  • TC begins military buildup
  3048
  • Explorer Corps vessel Outbound Light 
  encounters Clan Smoke Jaguar
  • Bidding for the right to invade takes place
  • MH military buildup begins
  • Rim Collection formed
  3049
  • Clan Operation Revival launches
  • ComStar makes contact with the Clans
  3050
  • Clans invade Inner Sphere
  • ComStar begins aiding the Clans
  • Turtle Bay Massacre
  • Operation Revival halted
  3051
  • Operation Revival resumes, reserve Clans 
  brought in
  • MC makes overtures to Periphery states about 
  Periphery-wide alliance
  3052
  • Battle for Luthien
  • Battle of Tukayyid
  • ComStar Operation Scorpion takes place
  • Word of Blake formed with ComStar Schism
  • FWL signs HPG service contract with Word of 
  Blake
  • New Belt Pirates formed
  3053
  • Terran Peace Summit takes place
  • ComStar begins announcing troop movements
  • Mercenary Review and Bonding Commission 
  replaces Mercenary Review Board
  • University of Blake begins construction
  3054
  • MH invades Lothian League
  • Fuchida’s Fusiliers take control of Tortuga 
  Dominions
  SUCCESSION WARS ERA
  ARTIST: KEVIN MCCANN
  PUBLICATION: HISTORICAL: WAR OF 3039
  YEAR: 2004
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  26
  
  T I M E L I N E
  3055
  • MH conquers Lothian League
  • Clan Ghost Bear begins relocating their 
  population and assets to the Inner Sphere
  3056
  • Federated Commonwealth ofﬁ cially formed
  • TC and MC sign Treaty of Taurus
  • Diplomatic channels between CC and MC reopen
  • OA Long Road Program begins
  3057
  • FWL and CC launches Operation Guerrero
  • Lyran Alliance formed
  • Clan Refusal War
  • ComStar opens vaults of history to everyone
  3058
  • DC forces installed as peacekeepers in Chaos 
  March
  • Clan Wolf becomes both Clan Jade Wolf and 
  Clan Wolf-in-Exile
  • Word of Blake takes Terra
  • Clan Jade Wolf becomes Clan Wolf
  • Invasion of Coventry
  • First Whitting Conference
  • Inner Sphere leaders form new Star League
  3059
  • Clan Burrock absorbed by Star Adders
  • Harvest trials among the Clans
  • Star League launches Task Force Serpent and 
  Operation Bulldog against Clan Smoke Jaguar 
  • Clan Nova Cat declares allegiance to the Star 
  League
  • Smoke Jaguar forces in the Inner Sphere ﬂ ee to 
  the Homeworlds
  3060
  • Task Force Serpent assaults Smoke Jaguar 
  homeworld of Huntress
  • Smoke Jaguars annihilated
  • Great Refusal fought on Strana Mechty ends the 
  Clan invasion
  • Star League embassy set up on Strana Mechty
  • Nova Cats are Abjured and attacked by other 
  Clans, and forced to ﬂ ee Homeworlds to 
  settle in the Draconis Combine
  3061
  • War between Capellan Confederation and St. 
  Ives Compact
  • Star League forces return to Inner Sphere
  • War between Jade Falcons and Steel 
  Vipers results in Vipers abandoning their 
  Inner Sphere possessions
  • Second Whitting Conference held on Tharkad
  • Nova Cats granted autonomy in the Irece 
  Prefecture of the Draconis Combine
  3062
  • Trinity Alliance formed
  • First Babylon Diet
  • FedCom Civil War begins on Kathil
  • Combine troops attacked in Lyons Thumb
  • FedSuns troops invade the Draconis Combine
  • Combine annexes Lyons Thumb
  • Ghost Bear/Combine War begins with Black 
  Dragon attack on Alshain
  3063
  • Marian Hegemony conquers Illyrian Palatinate
  • War between Capellan Confederation and St. Ives 
  Compact ends with the annexation of the latter 
  • End of Ghost Bear/Combine War
  • Combine troops move to counter FedSuns 
  invasion
  3064
  • Diplomatic relations opened between 
  Clan Snow Raven and Outworlds Alliance
  • Jade Falcon Incursion into Lyran Alliance; Clan 
  Hell’s Horses abandons their Inner Sphere 
  possessions
  • Third Whitting Conference held on Atreus
  • ComStar, the Taurian Concordat and 
  Word of Blake admitted to Star League as 
  probationary members
  3065
  • Clan Wolf assaults Jade Falcons
  • End of Jade Falcon Incursion
  • Clan Diamond Shark seizes Twycross
  • Free Skye revolts
  • Fighting continues in the former Federated 
  Commonwealth including battles on Kathil and 
  New Syrtis
  • Draconis Combine launches reprisal strikes on 
  Federated Suns
  3066
  • Ceaseﬁ re between Draconis March and Draconis 
  Combine
  • Formation of Fronc Reaches and Calderon 
  Protectorate
  • Fighting continues in the former Federated 
  Commonwealth, including battles on Tikonov, 
  Tharkad and New Avalon
  3067
  • FedCom Civil War ends
  • Wolf’s Dragoons attacked on Outreach by 
  coalition of mercenaries
  • Fourth Whitting Conference held on Tharkad
  • Star League dissolved
  • Word of Blake attacks Tharkad and New Avalon
  • Start of Word of Blake Jihad
  • Outreach nuked by Word of Blake
  3068
  • Word of Blake attacks Luthien and Tukayyid
  • Word of Blake sparks Skye/Free Worlds League 
  war
  • ComStar launches Case White against the 
  Terran system, but is defeated in massive 
  loss
  • Capellan March invades Capellan Confederation
  • Jade Falcons invade Lyran Alliance
  • Draconis Combine capital moves to New 
  Samarkand
  • Capellan Confederation counterinvades the 
  Federated Suns
  3069
  • Nuclear strikes on Ramora destroy a Clan Snow 
  Raven naval Star
  • Clan Wolf invades the Lyran Alliance
  • Alarion and Galax poisoned during Blakist 
  assaults
  • Clan Snow Raven invades several 
  Draconis Combine worlds
  • Kathil shipyards crippled by Capellan 
  Confederation
  • Galedon bombarded by Snow Raven ﬂ eet; plague 
  spreads across world
  • Capellan counterattack hits New Syrtis, capital 
  of the Federated Suns Capellan March, but is 
  ultimately repelled
  CLAN INVASION/CIVIL WAR ERA
  ARTIST: BORIS VALLEJO
  PUBLICATION: BRED FOR WAR (NOVEL)
  YEAR: 1995
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  27
  
  T I M E L I N E
  • Ceaseﬁ re between League and Lyran forces
  • Andurien invades several Capellan worlds 
  3070
  • Capellan ceaseﬁ re with Federated Suns
  • Word of Blake occupies Hesperus II
  • Draconis Combine cleanses Galedon V by 
  nuclear strikes 
  • Word of Blake occupies Donegal
  • War between Taurian Concordat and Calderon 
  Protectorate
  • Clan Ghost Bear takes ﬁ rst steps towards 
  merging with Free Rasalhague Republic
  • Word of Blake attacks St. Ives and Sian
  • Clan Hell’s Horses invades Inner Sphere Clan 
  Occupation Zones
  • Scouring of Tamar
  3071
  • Clan Ice Hellion invades Inner Sphere Clan 
  Occupation Zones
  • Word of Blake occupies Robinson and Pesht
  • Word of Blake attacks the Marian Hegemony
  • Azami population of the Draconis Combines rise 
  in rebellion
  • Word of Blake occupies Gibson, their old capital
  • Clan Hell’s Horses turns on Clan Ice Hellion
  • Duchy of Tamarind declares itself independent of 
  the Free Worlds League
  • ComStar expelled from Outworlds Alliance 
  3072
  • Tharkad liberated
  • Robinson and Donegal liberated
  • Filtvelt Coalition declares itself independent from 
  the Federated Suns
  • Clan Ice Hellion forces defeated on Vantaa, 
  expelled from the Inner Sphere
  • Kittery Prefecture formed by Devlin Stone
  • Clan Nova Cat attempts to liberate Luthien, but 
  is repelled with heavy losses
  • Lyran Archonettes formed, decentralizing control 
  of the Lyran Alliance
  • Benjamin liberated
  3073
  • Donner suicide bomb at Arc-Royal
  • Malagrotta declares itself independent of the 
  Federated Suns
  3074
  • Battle for Odessa
  • Word of Blake assault on Sian repulsed
  • Word of Blake attacks and poisons Radstadt
  • Coventry liberated
  • Asteroid strike on Taurus, Federated Suns is 
  blamed
  • Taurian Concordat renews its invasion of the 
  Federated Suns
  • Battle for Skye, Word of Blake repulsed
  • Word of Blake retreats from New Avalon, Mount 
  Davion destroyed
  • Clan Ghost Bear attacks Luthien and Pesht
  • Hesperus II liberated
  3075
  • Luthien and Pesht liberated
  • Clan Ghost Bear clashes with Clan Wolf at Odessa
  • Asteroid strike on Shinonoi
  • Tikonov liberated
  • Capellan Confederation launches invasion of 
  Blake Protectorate
  • Canopus liberated
  • Clan Ghost Bear invades the Blake Protectorate
  • Irian liberated 
  3076
  • Galatea liberated
  • Clan Snow Raven joins Clan Ghost Bear 
  taskforces against Word of Blake
  • Word of Blake raids Regulus
  • Allies invade Blake Protectorate
  • Free Rasalhague Republic troops mutiny against 
  the Ghost Bear Dominion
  • Word of Blake counterattack against Clan Ghost 
  Bear on Dyev
  3077
  • Dieron liberated
  • Northwind liberated
  3078
  • Terra liberated by allies
  • Gibson sterilized by Regulan Task Force
  • Word of Blake Protectorate collapses
  • Many Word of Blake military forces scatter
  • The Master and his minions retreat from Gibson 
  toward Circinus
  • Terra declared a neutral holding
  3079
  Devlin Stone launches political and diplomatic 
   •
  initiatives to assume control over the worlds 
  surrounding Terra and the shattered Blake 
  Protectorate
  3081
  • Circinus sterilized by Regulan Task Force
  • Word of Blake Master killed
  • Word of Blake Jihad ends
  • Republic of the Sphere formed
  • Inner Sphere worlds around Terra, except for 
  Capellan holdings, join the Republic of the 
  Sphere
  3082
  • Combine capital returns to Luthien.
  • Marik-Stewart Commonwealth founded
  • Fighting between Regulus and Oriente.
  • Resettlement Act in Republic begins shifting 
  populations around; not popular with everyone
  3083
  • Military Materiel Redemption Program begins in 
  Republic
  • Outworlds Alliance and Clan Snow Raven merge 
  into Raven Alliance
  3084
  • Minor border conﬂ icts between Ghost Bear 
  Dominion and Draconis Combine
  • Lyran Alliance renamed Lyran Commonwealth
  • Fighting between Regulus and Oriente
  3085
  • Treaty of Tikonov signed by Capellan 
  Confederation, recognizing Republic
  • All major powers establish or have established 
  diplomatic relations with Republic
  • Republic Senate meets for ﬁ rst time
  • Reactionary unrest in Combine to reforms, 
  speciﬁ cally MMRP-related drawdowns
  JIHAD ERA
  ARTIST: KLAUS SCHERWINSKI
  PUBLICATION: DAWN OF THE JIHAD
  YEAR: 2005
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  28
  
  T I M E L I N E
  3086
  • Regulan Fiefs founded
  • Oriente Protectorate founded
  3088
  • Knights of the Sphere founded
  3091
  • Borders ﬁ nalized for Republic Prefectures
  3092
  • Marian Hegemony seizes three former FWL 
  worlds
  3093
  • End of reactionary unrest in Combine
  3090s
  • During this decade, Stone discontinues military 
  enforcement of relocation policies
  3095
  • Unrest in former FWL starts up
  Late 3090s
  • Great Reavings among Inner Sphere Clans
  3098
  • Second Ghost Bear-Combine war begins
  3100
  • Clan Diamond Shark changes name to Clan Sea 
  Fox
  • Border conﬂ icts between Raven Alliance and 
  Combine
  • Lyran Commonwealth declares war against 
  Brotherhood of Cincinnatus
  3101
  • Last battles of Reformation
  • Grassroots movement to reclaim Capellan worlds 
  from Republic
  • Second Ghost Bear-Combine war ends
  3102
  • Low-level pro-Capellan terrorism starts on Liao
  • Mystic Caste created by Clan Nova Cat with O5P 
  help
  3103
  • Ghost Bear Dominion ofﬁ cially renamed 
  Rasalhague Dominion 
  3104
  • Republic stations troops on former Capellan 
  worlds after terrorism increases
  • Brotherhood of Cincinnatus destroyed
  3105
  • Victoria War between FedSuns (mostly House 
  Hasek) and Capellan Confederation
  3110
  • “Rogue” House Ma-Tsu Kai and Republic forces 
  battle on Kurragin
  • Unrest in former FWL put down under threat of 
  invasion by Republic
  • Capellans invade Republic
  3111
  • Liao Massacre
  3112
  • Warrior House Offensive
  3113
  • Battle for Liao
  • Capellan invasion of Republic ends
  • Bannson Universal founded
  3117
  • Capellan Confederation begins raiding former 
  FWL worlds
  3119-3120s
  • Fighting between various FWL claimants
  Early 3120s
  • Capellan raids into Republic
  3121
  • Border dispute between FedSuns and Capellan 
  Confederation
  3122
  • Senatorial conspiracy begins
  3123
  • FWL raids into Republic
  3124
  • Pirates, secretly backed by Sandovals, raid 
  Republic 
  3128
  • Student rebellion on Liao
  3130
  • Republic retaliatory attack against Capellan 
  Confederation on Corey
  3131
  • Republic intelligence begins intercepting 
  messages about a mysterious “triumvirate”
  3132
  • Gray Monday, 80 percent of HPGs go down
  • Republic of the Sphere splinter groups starts 
  local insurrections
  3133
  • Draconis Combine raids Republic of the Sphere
  3134
  • Steel Wolves faction attacks Terra
  • Clan Jade Falcon invades Republic of the Sphere
  • Capellan Confederation invades Republic of the 
  Sphere
  • Marik-Stewart Commonality attempts to capture 
  Stewart
  • Battle for Skye, Lyran Commonwealth joins 
  Republican forces against Jade Falcons
  3135
  • Senatorial rebellion on Terra against Republic of 
  the Sphere
  • Draconis Combine invades Republic of the Sphere
  • Fortress Republic protocol enacted, withdrawing 
  Republic of the Sphere borders to a slightly 
  expanded Prefecture X
  • Clan Jade Falcon Civil War
  • Clan Jade Falcon and Clan Hell’s Horses clash
  • Rasalhague Dominion sends peacekeepers to 
  former Republic worlds
  3136
  • Clan Nova Cat joins Combine invasion of Republic 
  of the Sphere
  • Spirit Cat faction invades the planet Marik
  • Clan Wolf migration begins
  3137
  • Clan Wolf attacks Republic of the Sphere
  • Draconis Combine civil war
  • Lyran Commonwealth invades former Free Worlds 
  League states
  • Lyran Commonwealth attacks former Republic 
  worlds
  • Oriente Protectorate and Marik-Stewart 
  Commonwealth clash in ﬁ ghting
  • Clan Wolf attacks Marik-Stewart Commonwealth 
  in support of Lyran war
  3138
  • Fighting breaks out between Oriente and Andurien
  • Marik-Stewart Commonwealth dissolves under 
  pressure of Lyran advance after the fall of 
  Stewart
  3139
  • Free Worlds League reforms under Oriente 
  leadership, Andurien and Regulus decline to join
  DARK AGE ERA
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  29
  
   
  ARTIST: STEVE VENTERS
  PUBLICATION: UNPUBLISHED WORK
  YEAR: 1987
  YEAR: 1987
  YEAR: 1987
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  30
  
   
  ARTIST: MIKE JACKSON
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH FOURTH EDITION
  YEAR: 1996
  YEAR: 1996
  YEAR: 1996
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  31
  
  O Z Y M A N D I A S
  ARTIST: SLAWOMIR MANIAK
  PUBLICATION: JIHAD CONSPIRACIES: INTERSTELLAR PLAYERS 2
  YEAR: 2008
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  32
  
  O Z Y M A N D I A S
  She did. Whirling, she peeled his right hand off  her right cheek by the wrist, 
  locked out his elbow with her left forearm, and with a vicious hip-twist planted 
  him facefi rst in brick-hard khaki dirt.
  “Kiss the planet,” she suggested. “That’s the only kind you’ll get from me.”
  Though just a year older and rail-lean himself, Cowboy was much stronger 
  than Cassie. Of course: he was male. Further evidence of the Universe’s intrinsic 
  unfairness.
  To even the odds, Cassie didn’t fi ght fair. She’d learned better, in the snake-ridden 
  paddies and city streets tight and twisty as intestines and smelling about the same, 
  of Larsha. And Guru Johann had schooled her well in the art of pentjak silat. 
  The one thing in her universe she wouldn’t cheat was her family. The Caballeros. 
  Yet still they refused to accept her.
  Using the trapped arm as a lever, Cassie gave Cowboy a nasty twist to remember 
  her by. She knew fi rsthand how much force it took to pop an elbow. Or dislocate 
  BORGAN’S RIFT
  World Name:
  Star Type (Recharge Time)
  Position in System: 2
  Time to Jump Point
  Number of Satellites
  Surface Gravity
  Atm. Pressure
  Equatorial Temperature
  Surface Water Coverage
  Recharging Station
  HPG Class Type
  Highest Native Life
  Population Size (3049)
  Socio-Industrial Levels
  Borgan’s Rift is a typical example of Periphery worlds during 
  the Succession Wars: after an initial economic and technological 
  collapse, slow decay gripped the world as offworld trading 
  partners disappeared and pirates began to pillage remaining 
  critical portions of its industry. 
  In the late 3040s, title to the world was sold to Shanti Magliss 
  of Magliss Spirits—one of the largest producers of wines and 
  brandies in the Periphery—with the Magestrix’s approval, both of 
  whom hoped to revive the world’s fortunes. This process started 
  with the building of numerous warehouses and distribution centers 
  in the city of Newport. These operations have been undermined 
  somewhat by raids from pirates based in the decaying industrial 
  city of Howe. 
  o
  e
  e
  t
  m
  d
  t
  c
  n
  p
  S
  o
  u
  e
  h
  a
  a
  .
  a
  m
  e
  t
  l
  O
  w
  a
  y
  u
  p
  i
  s
  a
  o
  e
  u
  o
  N
  s
  n
  W
  a
  e
  G
  o
  J
  i
  e
  a
  R
  r
  N
  n
  t
  e
  p
  0
  n
  p
  w
  n
  f
  i
  z
  v
  p
  t
  e
  m
  r
  i
  a
  p
  y
  e
  G
  s
  p
  n
  v
  r
  —
  s
  a
  c
  a
  e
  3
  e
  o
  o
  r
  t
  n
  m
  r
  A
  m
  T
  e
  h
  r
  e
  l
  n
  a
  p
  9
  a
  r
  T
  N
  a
  s
  s
  o
  w
  t
  t
  t
  p
  S
  e
  s
  t
  a
  w
  t
  t
  n
  m
  R
  e
  u
  t
  M
  s
  d
  b
  w
  e
  F
  h
  a
  s
  s
  r
  s
  n
  d
  o
  e
  d
  i
  s
  c
  d
   
  c
  h
  y
  n
  b
  o
  p
  S
  g
  w
  w
  i
  d
  n
  s
  w
  t
  e
  d
  h
  d
  s
  r
  t
  g
  g
  u
  the Succession Wars: after an initial economic and technological 
  partners disappeared and pirates began to pillage remaining
  p
  y
  with the building of numerous warehouses and distribution centers
  w
  of Magliss Spirits
  one of the largest producers of wines and
  i
  d
  i
  i
  d
  h
  i
  d
  b
  i
  f
  di
  b
  h
  city of Howe.
  c
  Socio Industrial Levels
  S
  Highest Native Life
  S
  f
  W t
  C
  S
  Atm Pressure
  A
  Ti
  t
  J
  P i t
  T
  Star Type (Recharge Time)
  S
  BORGAN S RIFT
  B
  BORGAN’S RIFT
  MAGISTRACY OF CANOPUS
  22 FEBRUARY 3049
  Cassiopeia Suthorn, probably eighteen, knelt naked on the fl oor inside the 
  tent, the tip of a wavy-bladed dagger pressed to the sweat-rivulet running down 
  her sternum. 
  It was cool in the little tent. The texture of the inadequate microbubble pad 
  built into the shelter bottom embossed her knees. An escaped strand of long 
  tied-back black hair tickled her cheek.
  Around her in the gloom lay a sad little scatter of uniform and gear. She had no 
  real possessions. Only the kris she’d brought with her from her homeworld.
  Her eyes were dry until stinging sweat ran into them.
  Her arms quivered. She drew a deep breath, straightened, applied pressure. 
  Felt the welcome pain of Blood-drinker’s point dig into the skin over her heart.
  “Private Suthorn!” a voice rapped from right outside. “Front and center. The boy 
  jefe wants you.”
  She hesitated. She was so close to freedom. Maybe for the fi rst time in her short 
  life.
  But Staff  Sergeant Buck Evans was one of the few people in the whole 
  Seventeenth Recon Regiment, known as Camacho’s Caballeros, who treated her 
  halfway decent. 
  She sighed and lowered the knife. After all, it was always with her.
  “Coming,” she shouted. “I been asleep. Just gimme a minute.”
  In a moment she was outside, trying to pluck and yank her baggy, olive-drab 
  Free World League Military-pattern coveralls into something resembling order. 
  Though they fi t her as well as if she’d pulled on the one person-tent, they still felt 
  constricting.
  Dawn on Borgan’s Rift’s consisted of a tiny, bluish-white point between the 
  horizon and yellow clouds. It hurt to look anywhere near it. She felt the distant 
  sun’s UV sizzling on her cinnamon-colored skin. It reminded her of home.
  She’d hated her homeworld, Larsha. At least after the BattleMechs had 
  destroyed her home and killed her father in a raid when she was small. Then, 
  thirteen years later, enemy ’Mechs—diff erent outfi t, diff erent foe; Cassie hated 
  the walking killing-machines all the same—had come back to Larsha. That time 
  she’d gone with them.
  As always, the BattleMechs were the fi rst thing to meet her eyes when she 
  emerged: four vaguely manlike shapes, ten meters tall and more, parked quartering 
  the hilltop where the Caballeros had pitched their camp so that a single missile 
  volley wouldn’t take them all out at once, facing outward as if vigilant. 
  Next was Evans himself, tall and lanky, with pale blue eyes perpetually squinting 
  in a face that looked as if it had been hacked out with a chainsaw and topped 
  with a shock of straw hair. He nodded and turned toward the hilltop. Loose gait 
  and generally disreputable air notwithstanding, his regulation OD MechWarrior 
  jumpsuit was spotless.
  Cassie followed through the small camp. The colorful tents mostly belonged to 
  what the ’lleros called Aztechs; like any MechWarrior outfi t, the detached Lance 
  carried far more technicians than pilots. She passed Tino, a White Mountain 
  Apache kid, bandy-legged and shorter than her 165 centimeters, pushing a TIG 
  welder on a cart. His moon face split into a quick grin beneath his turned-around 
  ball cap before he looked quickly away.
  Along with Evans, he was the closest thing she had to a friend on this alien 
  world. The rest …. well, at best they didn’t deign to notice her.
  She missed the children. Camacho’s Caballeros were as much a tribe as a 
  military outfi t; mothers were liable to pilot ’Mechs alongside fathers, and the 
  children came with them. Cassie got along okay with the kids. They lacked the 
  adults’ prickly pride—and their prejudices.
  A hand clamped onto her rump. “Hey, there, li’l darlin’!” an unfortunately familiar 
  voice said in her ear. “’Least you got some meat worth hanging onto, skinny little 
  thing that you are. Turn around and give Cowboy a kiss, now.”
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  33
  OZYMANDIAS
  V I C T O R  M I L A N
  
  O Z Y M A N D I A S
  O Z Y M A N D I A S
  blue shoulder-fl ares and maroon piping and the Caballeros 
  insignia—a howling coyote, sitting with its head silhouetted 
  against a full moon —over his heart.
  The other MechWarriors sat. Their Aztech crew chiefs 
  joined them. A cool breeze washed over the hill. Cassie’s 
  nose wrinkled; vegetation on Borgan’s Rift had a bit of a 
  sour smell that summer dryness did little to help. Cassie 
  found a seat in the back and slumped into it.
  “To recap so we’re all on the same screen,” Gabby said, 
  “we were hired to evict a pirate calling himself the Red 
  Lion from the ruins of the old industrial city of Howe, 
  ten klicks north of here.” He clicked a hand-controller. 
  The holographic image of a forbidding skyline 
  sprang up waist-high beside him. “He was a Capellan 
  Confederation Armed Forces Colonel. Led a BattleMech 
  regiment. Fifteen-sixteen years ago, the Magistracy 
  teamed up with the Duchy of Andurien, which was 
  trying to secede from the FWL, to invade Liao space. He played a 
  key role in beating them back.
  “Then, for whatever reason, his star fell. Rumor says he got too friendly with the 
  wrong Liao noble’s wife. He turned to piracy. Since Borgan’s Rift’s never recovered 
  from the Star League’s collapse a couple centuries ago, and however far it had 
  risen since got knocked down by the CapCons during the last war, he decided 
  Howe would make a good base of operations a couple years back.
  “A few months back, our employer, the Resplendent Shanti Magliss of Magliss 
  Spirits, acting with her friend the Magestrix Emma’s blessing, bought the planetary 
  title from the impoverished holder. She intends to revive Borgan’s Rift’s fortunes 
  as a manufacturing center and trading base.”
  “By which I’m guessing she means smuggling into the Capellan Confederation,” 
  said Buck. “Which don’t allow in regular Moc traders. Much less their pleasure 
  circuses.”
  Gavilán scowled. “I’m sure our employer involves herself in only legitimate 
  business interests.”
  Cowboy hooted. “Combination luxury liners and whorehouses are legit to these 
  Mocs.”
  “Whatever. The point is, the Red Lion and his pirates are a nuisance. Our 
  employer wants them gone. That’s why she hired us.”
  “She has like a battalion of Magliss mercs,” Princesa said. “Why don’t they do 
  something?”
  “They did,” Buck said. “’Bout four months back. Got their asses handed to ’em. 
  Red Lion’s got him fi ve or six BattleMechs in there. And the mercs’re just infantry 
  and light-armor troopies.”
  “I hate a city fi ght,” Cowboy said.
  “So do Shanti’s security goons.”
  Gavilán nodded impatiently. “So now the time’s come to earn our pay. We need 
  recon before we move out.”
  His eyes fi xed Cassie like black laser beams. “That’s where you come in, Private 
  Suthorn. You’ve screwed up every job we’ve tried to give you.”
  “They were boring!”
  “Suthorn,” Evans said, more pained than angry.
  “Well, they were.”
  “You will reconnoiter Howe and the surrounding terrain,” Gavilán told her, “and 
  report back what you fi nd no later than dawn tomorrow.”
  “Me?” she squeaked. “But I’m not—”
  “You’re a scout now,” he said.
  “She’s a good choice, the way she’s always sneaking around and spying,” Princesa 
  said. “Didn’t she get busted poking around the Magliss warehouses in Newport?”
  Newport was the new town that had grown up forty klicks south of Howe. Until 
  she reclaimed the old city, Shanti Magliss had based her operations there. 
  Cassie felt her cheeks fl ush. “But they got all kinda weapons systems in there!” she 
  blurted. “Even gear for ’Mechs. Reckon they should share some of that with us.”
  “Now, Suthorn,” Evans said, “Colonel negotiated the best contract he could for 
  us and that’s a fact. We got to live with it, regardless.”
  She shook her head and clamped her arms around her chest.
  ▲▼▲
  a shoulder. But she wouldn’t. Big a jerk as he was, Corporal 
  William Payson was one of only four MechWarriors in 
  the detachment. She couldn’t unfi t him for duty.
  Releasing him, she walked on. When she’d gone a safe 
  distance, he bounced up. He wore faded dungarees, a 
  tee-shirt with a holoimage of Cowgirl singing star Sarah 
  McCandless, and pointy-toed snakeskin boots.
  “Yo, Sergeant, you saw that! That private laid hands on 
  a superior!”
  “Didn’t see nothin’,” Evans drawled. “Especially not a 
  forty-kilo girl plowing this unfertile soil with your face. 
  Totally unrelated subject: didn’t see a noncom sexually 
  harassing an enlisted. ’Cause if I had, God have pity on you, 
  because La Dama Muerte surehell wouldn’t.”
   La Dama Muerte was Lieutenant Colonel Marisol Cabrera, 
  executive offi  cer to Colonel Carlos Camacho, and some said 
  lover as well: a wiry, age-lined but still pretty woman. “The 
  Lady Death” kicked in at any hint of threat to her coronel or 
  her familia. From within or without.
  “We been hangin’ around these bossy putas runnin’ the 
  Magistracy of Canopus too Foxtrot long,” Cowboy said. “Goin’ to the womenfolks’ 
  heads.” 
  Evans had nothing to say to that; it was a literally accurate description of the 
  MoC power structure, although they’d undoubtedly phrase it diff erently.
  “I’ve been here a year,” Cassie said as they left Payson pouting, hearing the 
  whine in her voice and hating it. “He just got here. Yet he’s treated like he 
  belongs. I’m not.”
  Buck shook his head. “Gotta understand, Suthorn,” he said. “Folks from 
  the Southwestern Worlds, the Trinity, we’re a pretty clannish lot. There’s 
  Southwesterners, and there’s gringos. You ain’t Cowboy, Norteño, or Indian, from 
  Sierra, Galisteo, or Cerillos, you’re a stone outsider. Payson, there, he’s from Cerillos. 
  Natural talent in a BattleMech cockpit, got him just enough family connections to 
  get himself into one, ’steada some correctional camp.”
  “You might as well start sayin’ your goodbyes, Runt!” Cowboy yelled after her. 
  That was Cassie’s callsign. “We all been sent to this Sierra-hole to wash out. And 
  you’re circlin’ the drain fastest of all!”
  She ducked her head down between her shoulderblades. She knew that. Blood-
  drinker was a comforting weight bouncing in its hip-scabbard.
  An awning was spread out next to the feet of Lieutenant Gavilán Camacho’s 
  45-ton Phoenix Hawk. The ’Mech resembled a man with weird antenna-like 
  projections from either side of a round head, holding a big gun in his right hand. 
  Painted mottled yellow and khaki, like the other ’Mechs, to match the region’s 
  rolling midsummer grasslands, it had Camacho’s personal badge, a kestrel with 
  wings spread, across the chest.
  Chairs had been set beneath the awning. Beneath its shade, a short woman 
  with long black hair wound around the back of her head in a braid stood with her 
  pretty face knotted in a scowl. She wore MechWarrior halter top and briefs, which 
  give her an excuse to show off  the goods despite Trinity prudery. She showed a 
  bit of a roll top and bottom of the short-shorts, Cassie noticed.
  Lieutenant Junior Grade Encarnación Martínez, from a politically infl uential but 
  not so wealthy Sierra family, had suff ered the ultimate humiliation of becoming 
  Dispossessed when her Vulcan got shot out from under her by raiders. By the 
  time her family had scraped together the funds to buy her a lowly Locust, her bad 
  attitude had washed her out of the FWLM. She’d signed on with the semi-exiled 
  Caballeros. She hated her callsign, “Princesa.” Nobody doubted how she came by 
  it.
  “What’re you dragging that along for?” she asked Evans.
  “Because this little thang took down Bobby the Wolf’s Wolverine Skinwalker all by 
  her lonesome, with a mop and a busted power line, back when we hit Kalimantan 
  city in July of ’47,” Evans said. “Reckon she showed some promise then.”
  “Well,” said Gavilán Camacho, bustling up, with a twist of his moustached lips, 
  “it’s time for her to live up to some of that promise.”
  Evans cocked a brow. “So after two weeks on-planet you got tactics ironed out 
  with our employer, the freshly-minted Baroness?”
  Gabby grimaced. “You could say that.”
  To Cassie’s surprise he was wearing dress uniform: white trousers and jacket with 
  blue
  insig
  aga
  T
  join
  nos
  sou
  fou
  “w
  Li
  te
  T
  s
  C
  r
  trying to s
  oral 
  e
  a
  h 
  n 
  a 
  ce.
  lly 
  ou,
  era, 
  said 
  The 
  el or 
  l
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  34
  
  O Z Y M A N D I A S
  O Z Y M A N D I A S
  “What the hell is this thing, anyway?”
  “You don’t know a Tabiranth? They’re all over the Inner Sphere.”
  “I never saw one before. How do I steer?”
  “Just like a horse.”
  She looked at him. “What?” he said. “You don’t ride?”
  “Ride a motorbike,” she said. “Why you not send me with a motorbike?”
  “We don’t have a motorbike, Private Suthorn. We are a poor-ass outfi t. We can’t 
  aff ord one. C’mon, it’s simple. Nudge the sides with your heels for forward. Pull 
  back on the reins to stop. Pull the head left or right and it’ll go that way. But gently. 
  These critters got their pride.”
  “HDLC! How I’m gonna sneak in, riding something like that? It’s huge!”
  He shrugged. “You don’t. Like I said: pirates got the city sewed up tight with spies 
  and sensors. When they stop you, you tell ’em you’re a local. Hunter, maybe. Or a 
  farmer, looking for your lost little sheep.”
  “I’m dead.”
  “Bit earlier on, you were acting like that wasn’t such a bad prospect. No pleasin’ 
  some people. You’re a tricky little critter, Suthorn. Talk purty smooth when you put 
  your mind to it. Put that to use.”
  She looked from the creature to the derelict BattleMech, looking sad out on the 
  plain before the fallen city.
  “We’re all sent out here to die, aren’t we?”
  “Well—let’s say this is a make or break mission for everybody on it.”
  “Even Gabby? He’s the Colonel’s son.”
  The sergeant shook his head. “Trinity’re hardscrabble worlds. Everybody got to 
  pull their own weight. Soon or late. Even a favored son.”
  “So we’re all screw-ups.” She looked at him. “What about you?”
  “Maybe I was born unlucky. Now, mount up, trooper. You’re burning daylight.”
  ▲▼▲
  At the forest edge she paused her unlikely mount and looked at the city. Around 
  her bugs buzzed and small fl ying mammals chittered to each other. The Tabiranth 
  sighed in theatrical despair at its lot in life.
  Cassie studied the Gladiator. Up close, it looked even sorrier. Its armor and 
  framework and myomer pseudo-musculature had resisted time, but slowly 
  lost. Corrosion pitted every surface. Ochre and rust lichen grew on the shaded 
  inner plates of its legs. Vines twined its skeleton where armor plating had been 
  stripped away. 
  Likewise every scrap of usable electronics, weapons, ammunition, and of 
  course the fusion engine that powered it, had all been scavenged centuries ago. 
  It remained as a monument, Cassie guessed. Or just because it was too much 
  Foxtrot trouble to cut up for scrap and haul away.
  She drew in a deep breath. Forced her eyes toward Howe. Her destiny awaited 
  there.
  She already knew what it was. She only had to fi nd the courage to play it out.
  “Move it, rug,” she said, pressing the big cat-creature’s fl anks with her heels as 
  she’d been instructed. 
  Casting a reproachful look back over its shoulder, the Tabiranth fl owed like mist 
  downhill.
  ▲▼▲
  They spotted her even before she rode through an open gate in the city walls. 
  Of course they would: she was riding this huge monstrosity across 1500 meters of 
  open terrain. Duh.
  More to the point, she picked them up as soon as she rode in among the 
  cracked cement domes and tarnished steel spires. She’d expected that. Arrogant, 
  the pirates existed within their environment. But they didn’t lower themselves to 
  adapt to it. They were big, strong men and women who lived by imposing their 
  will on everything and everybody around them.
  Cassie had grown up rat-poor. She ran alleys and roofl ines like a rat. And like a 
  rat, she adapted perfectly to whatever environment she found herself in. Except 
  for the human component, of course.
  But then even rats had trouble with that.
  They watched from what they thought was concealment. She didn’t let on she 
  saw them.
  Standing by the awning, they watched as the expensive, open-topped, touring 
  hovercar with the Magliss logo painted on the sides whisked their commanding 
  offi  cer toward Newport in a yellow roostertail of dust and dried grass.
  “Shanti must’ve yanked his leash,” Princesa said.
  “Mebbe she’ll give up on all this Moc woman-power nonsense, now she got a 
  taste of a real man,” Cowboy said.
  “Who cares?” Princesa sneered. “All gringas are devils.”
  “At least she keeps him off  my back.”
  Cassie thought she’d spoken under her breath. But the ears sticking like jug-
  handles from the sides of Cowboy’s bean-shaped head had the sensitivity of his 
  Wasp’s sensor suite. 
  “But honey,” he said brightly, turning to her, “that’s the only part of you 
  worth—”
  “Payson!” Evans said.
  The kid braced. “Sir, yes sir!”
  “Don’t sir me, crapcakes, I work for a living.”
  Evans stood with hands on hips, glaring at the group. Princesa outranked him. 
  But Don Carlos, el Coronel, had won the silver spurs of a Knight of Galisteo in the 
  hard school of the FWLM. In his outfi t, junior offi  cers who did not heed wise old 
  sergeants did not long remain offi  cers.
  Even the Colonel’s own son.
  “Listen up,” Evans said. “We got us the short end of the stick, here, and no 
  mistake. They keep us coolin’ our heels for two weeks and all of a sudden it’s why 
  ain’t you won the war for us yet, jodidos? But y’all know how much el Patrón hates 
  to split up la familia. Wouldn’ta done it, but the ol’ Seventeenth’s down to boiling 
  boot-leather for soup back on New Abilene. So we gotta fi ght this Red Lion and 
  tie his tail in a knot. We gonna let the Colonel down?
  “Now. Everybody act like you got a job and some Sierra Foxtrot notion how to 
  do it. Vamoose! And you, New Scout Suthorn—you come with me.”
  ▲▼▲
  “‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and 
  despair!’” 
  They stood on a windswept ridge overlooking gently rolling short-grass prairie 
  that stretched from dawn to dusk. Below and about a klick ahead, a hardwood 
  forest covered a low hill. A kilometer and a half or so beyond that rose the massive 
  cement and steel sculpture that was Howe. It dwarfed a handful of outlying 
  buildings, though Cassie reckoned they were big.
  Two hundred meters down the gentle slope from the woods, a BattleMech 
  slouched with its fi stlike manipulators buried in the weeds. It was a Gladiator, 
  an old Age of War era ‘Mech. Like the great city itself, the 55-ton ’Mech had 
  been abandoned when the Star League, the pinnacle of human prosperity and 
  technology, had collapsed in the 28th century. The sergeant seemed to address 
  his words to it.
  “What’s that?” Cassie asked.
  At least Evans spoke English most of the time; the other Caballeros switched 
  seemingly at random between it and Spanish, or spoke Spanish exclusively. 
  Cassie had grown up speaking English, the Inner Sphere’s common language, 
  as well as her native Japanese, Mandarin, Cantonese, and the Larshan dialect of 
  Bahasa Indonesia. Spanish was completely unknown to her when the Caballeros 
  had caught her. She was picking it up slowly; she found their slangy, crude English 
  hard enough.
  “Just an old poem I read somewhere,” said Buck.
  “What’s it mean?”
  He laughed. “It’s a poem. Don’t mean nothin’.”
  “Everything means something.”
  “Sometimes you’re too smart for your own damn good, Suthorn. Put it this way: 
  what the meaning is, you gotta work out for yourself.”
  She grunted and turned to eye the creature standing by with disfavor. It was a 
  large catlike creature, with grey-brown fur and a mane of coarse black hair running 
  from its head to the tip of its thick tail. Though heavy-bodied, it held itself with a 
  certain grace. A simple saddle had been strapped on its back over a blanket, and 
  a complicated halter over its big blunt muzzle, with reins attached.
  To her surprise, it didn’t smell as bad as it looked. Its expression suggested it 
  didn’t feel the same way about her.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  35
  
  O Z Y M A N D I A S
  He glanced at the heavily tattooed woman who stood, properly behind him 
  and silent, in red MechWarrior haltertop and camo pants. She nodded.
  “So what do you want?” he asked Cassie.
  “To go back where I belong. I am one of you. I know you never turned your 
  backs on Capella. Jealous bureaucrats and nobles turned their backs on you and 
  forced you to fl ee.”
  The pirates themselves came 
  in various hues and sizes, as did 
  the population of the whole Inner 
  Sphere. Cassie’s skin color, long 
  black hair, short straight nose, the 
  blue-grey eyes with pronounced 
  epicanthic folds, didn’t mark her as 
  anything special. Throughout human 
  space, culture—language and custom—mattered 
  more than color.
  That her appearance favored her Thai/Filipino/
  Japanese heritage over the French and Irish didn’t 
  hurt with the Asian-dominant pirates, however. 
  “What’s in it for me?” the Red Lion asked.
  “Victory,” she said. “The mercs seem clownish and 
  inept, but they keep their BattleMechs in excellent 
  order. Once you beat them, you can reap rich 
  salvage. And who knows? The new durachi herself 
  isn’t too far away to lay hands on, and you’ve already 
  beat the lap-dogs she keeps to guard her.”
  “This is true.”
  “With enough victories, who knows?” She shrugged. 
  “You might be able to reclaim your status in 
  the Confederation, O Colonel who was a 
  hero once.”
  It was absurd, of course. But ransom 
  wrung for a scion of the wealthy Magliss 
  clan might conceivably constitute a 
  bribe suffi  cient to overcome whatever 
  bad feelings got the Red Lion exiled in the 
  fi rst place. Cassie saw the will to believe in his 
  eyes, and knew she’d won.
  So far.
  “Here’s the plan,” she said. “You must send 
  your foot soldiers into the woods, to set 
  booby traps and then dig in under cover 
  with anti-’Mech weapons. Then take your 
  ’Mechs and hide in the dead ground to 
  the east of the dead Gladiator.”
  “Wait,” the Red Lion said. He sat 
  back and waved an expansive 
  hand. “This city is my 
  stronghold. Yet you tell me 
  I should leave it. How can 
  this be wisdom?”
  “The Caballeros are famed for 
  their skill at city-fighting, 
  Colonel,” she said. “Also, the closed urban 
  setting can only cancel the advantage your heavier ’Mechs give you. Better to 
  fight in the open, where your greater range and firepower will decide.”
  “Indeed that’s so.” The Red Lion blinked and fi ngered his strong chin. “You 
  are a worthy daughter of the Confederation. It seems to me we might well do 
  business.”
  ▲▼▲
  “They have six BattleMechs,” Cassie said. “Also the small DropShip they use for 
  raiding. It’s armed but scratch it: they’ll never risk their getaway.”
  Gathered by lamplight under the awning, the Lance seemed surprised to see 
  her back so early. Or maybe at all.
  “Six,” said Gavilán, sounding unhappy. The auburn-haired woman who stood 
  When they hailed her, she acted surprised. Alarmed. Dropping the long bolt-
  action hunting-rifl e she carried for cover, she raised her hands.
  Two pirates swaggered out of the black rectangle that had been the entrance 
  to a bunker-style building to her left. The man carried a laser rifl e, the woman a 
  submachine gun. Both wore their hair in long black topknots; the man had shaven 
  the rest of his head. Lurid tattoos 
  twined up both their arms.
  “What do we have here?” the man 
  called through his drooping bandit 
  moustache. 
  “I am a citizen of the Capellan 
  Confederation, abducted by the 
  gweilu bandits who call themselves 
  the Caballeros and forced to work for 
  them,” she said in Mandarin. “Please 
  take me to your Colonel.”
  That put them on their heels, 
  blinking. For a moment she 
  wondered 
  if 
  they 
  actually 
  understood Chinese. 
  “What do you want with our 
  Colonel?” the woman asked.
  “I want to come home,” she said. 
  “I can help him to do the same.”
  ▲▼▲
  “I don’t like traitors,” the huge man 
  said.
  “I’m no traitor.” Like him, Cassie spoke 
  House Liao Mandarin. “As I told your 
  sentinels, I am a subject of House Liao. 
  The off -world mercenaries are my captors. 
  They …. use me as they fi nd convenient.”
  That awoke ugly mutterings among the 
  watching pirates, who stood or squatted 
  among shadows that by midafternoon 
  fi lled streets squeezed between colossal 
  structures. Cassie knew full well that had she 
  been a captive, or even an actual local who 
  wandered into the wrong place, the men 
  would’ve been more than eager to use her in 
  the way they now suspected the Caballeros 
  of doing. And the women, who made up 
  maybe a third of the band, would’ve at the 
  very best watched disinterestedly. But 
  a true daughter of Capella, abused by 
  foreign devils—well, that was plainly an 
  outrage not to be borne.
  The man who called himself the Red 
  Lion was not prone to easy outrage. 
  That he had fallen into disgrace did 
  not mean he was stupid or foolish in any way. In House Liao, 
  perhaps even more than among the other great Houses that ruled the Inner 
  Sphere, you could fall from power as easily by being too competent as through 
  incompetence.
  Even seated on a camp stool in a little alcove in the industrial cliff -scape the 
  Red Lion was impressive. If by that you meant terrifying. He was big for a man of 
  obvious Chinese ancestry. He wore a black leather vest embroidered with lions in 
  red and gold thread, open to reveal muscles swelling on chest and arms, as well 
  as the gut swelling over his scarlet silk trousers. The topknot gathered by a gold-
  anodized ring at the crown of his shaven skull and the moustache that framed 
  his thin-lipped mouth were both startling bright red. The black roots visible just 
  above the ring suggested the color owed more to chemistry than genetics.
   “Why did they let you come here?” he asked.
  “They think I’m spying for them.”
   t
  p
  u
  u
  C
  r,
  c 
  e
  ge
  t
  m
  t
  he
  e
  w
  n
  to
  w
  b
  a
  s
  s
  en
  t
  aw
  ’d
  n,
  e
  n
  c
  hi
  t
  t
  k 
  a
  a
  th i
  kill
  t
  it
  fi hti
  C l
  l” h
  i
  To go back where I belong. I am one of you. I kn
  backs on Capella. Jealous bureaucrats and nobles turn
  forced you
  o her left. The man carried a laser rifl e, the woman a 
  their hair in long black topknots; the man had shaven 
  tattoos
  he ma
  band
  apella
  by th
  mselv
  work f
  . “Plea
  eir he
  t she
  ually 
  h our 
  e said
  me.”
  huge 
  Cassie
  I tol
  f Hou
  re my
  conve
  ngs am
  od or
  mid
  tween
  well tha
  ctual l
  place, 
  ger to 
  the C
  who 
  ould’v
  ested
  abus
  s plain
  elf the
  y out
  sgrace
  f
  li h i
  I
  H
  Li
  forced you
  The p
  in variou
  the popu
  Sphere. 
  black hai
  blue-grey 
  epicanthic
  anything spe
  space, culture—languag
  more than color.
  That her appearance 
  Japanese hheritage over 
  hurt with the Asian-dom
  “What’s in it for me?” t
  “Victory,” she said. “Th
  inept, but they keep th
  order. Once you beat 
  salvage. And who know
  isn’t too far away to lay ha
  beat the lap-dogs she keeps t
  “This is true.”
  “With enough victories, w
  “You might be ab
  the Confedera
  hero once.”
  It was ab
  wrung for a 
  clan might
  bribe suffi  cie
  bad feelings got 
  fi rst place. Cassie sa
  eyes, and knew she’
  So far.
  “Here’s the plan
  your foot soldie
  booby traps a
  with anti-’Mec
  ’Mechs and h
  the east of t
  “Wait,” 
  ba
  b ck
  h
  “The Ca
  oos
  an 
  dit 
  an
  he
  ves
  for
  ase
  eels, 
  e 
  d. 
  man
   spoke 
  d your 
  se Liao.
  y captors. 
  enient.”
  mong the
  r squatted
  afternoon
  n colossal
  at had she
  local who
  the men
  use her in
  Caballeros
  made up 
  ve at the
  ly. But 
  ed by 
  nly an 
  e Red 
  rage. 
  e did 
  ARTIST: DOUG SHULER
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH CAMO SPECS
  YEAR: 1988
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  36
  
  O Z Y M A N D I A S
  Tino’s gaze shifted nervously from the gate with the razor-tape tangle on top to 
  the warehouse beyond and back.
  “You sure this is a good idea?” he asked in Apache-accented Spanish.
  “Sure,” Cassie said. “Why not?”
  She sat next to him in the mule’s front seat. He wore his baggy utility coveralls 
  and ball cap. She wore form-fi tting black gym clothes.
  “If there’s all this good stuff  in the warehouse, shouldn’t there be, like, spotlights 
  and all?”
  “The Mocs are—” She had to go to 
  English. “—complacent. Too law-abiding 
  a society for real security. Don’t even got 
  cameras.”
  “But—pirates.”
  She laughed and got out. “Pirates’re too 
  arrogant-lazy to rob anyplace they can’t 
  bust open with a burst of autocannon fi re. 
  Plus they’re afraid of the Magliss sec-force 
  defenses, try though they might to pretend 
  otherwise.”
  She went to the gate. Fortunately Tino 
  was too worked up to ask how she knew 
  so much about the warehouse’s security. 
  He didn’t need to know this wasn’t her fi rst 
  visit.
  After brief business with a tool, the 
  lock fell open. Cassie undid the chain and 
  pushed the gate wide.
  “Told you,” she said. “No hay problema.”
  “Famous last words,” Tino muttered.
  ▲▼▲
  When his 35-ton Jenner “Old Paint” 
  powered up around him, Staff  Sergeant 
  Buck Evans was surprised to fi nd a message 
  ticker blinking at him from his commo 
  display. As the systems ran their self-checks 
  he punched it up.
  “Quidate el bosque,” it read. Take care the 
  woods, or near as maybe. The misspelling 
  and sketchy grammar identifi ed his unidentifi ed 
  correspondent.
  “Hope you know what you’re doing, girl,” 
  he muttered to their absent-without-leave problem child. He began his own 
  diagnostics.
  Despite his short trunks and cooling vest, the cockpit was warm when they 
  crested the heights where he and Cassie had stood the previous morning. They 
  moved in vee formation, Gabby’s “Peregrino” in the lead, Princesa’s “Dolorosa” taking 
  the right wing, Buck the left. Cowboy fl itting hither and yon on “Yellowjacket’s” 
  jump jets, as usual. This was the kind of time when the boy’s natural propensity 
  for looking for trouble came in handy.
  “Halcón, Sawbuck,” he radioed over the Lance frequency. “Don’t like the look of 
  them woods one little bit.”
  “Sawbuck, you know the plan,” Gavilán’s voice came back. “Straight ahead. Speed 
  and surprise.”
  “That’s a plan?” Buck asked, keeping the squelch button fi rmly squashed by his 
  thumb. Then, live, “Let the Mocs go through the trees. Won’t cost us any time to 
  go around, to speak of.”
  As he spoke the three-sixty strip above the windscreen showed him Cowboy 
  twenty meters up, jumping his twenty-ton BattleMech ahead. “Cowboy here. 
  Negative on IR signatures among the trees.”
  “Yeah, but we’re talking a hard-core Capellan Confederation Armed Forces fi eld 
  commander, here. They know about thermal mats. They can hide.”
  “Negative, Sawbuck,” the Lieutenant said. “We go straight up the middle.”
  With a savage stab of his thumb Buck cut over to the private channel to his CO. 
  “Remember what your Daddy told me before we left New Abilene, Halcón.”
  at his side, dressed in a skirt-suit of some kind of smoky blue fabric that clung to 
  every contour of her short but lush body, put a comforting hand on his arm.
  Shanti Magliss obviously kept herself in good shape. Even if she was totally 
  old—maybe forty. Rumor claimed she’d been a popular entertainer on one of the 
  Magistracy’s notorious pleasure circuses. 
  Cassie knew how tongues wagged: rumor tried to make her out as some kind 
  of sinister Asian seductress. She hadn’t let anybody touch her like that since she 
  was eleven. She was determined never to let 
  anybody do it again. Not and live.
  Still, the way Magliss looked at Gabby, and 
  the way he deferred to her, suggested she held 
  him by a leash made of more than money.
  “One’s out,” Cassie said. “An UrbanMech. 
  Main housing’s off , fusion plant pulled. It’s a 
  paperweight.”
  “You think you know something about 
  BattleMechs?” said Princesa disdainfully.
  “I’m around them enough,” Cassie said. 
  “I have eyes.” Knowing the prickly pride of 
  MechWarriors, not just Southwesterners, she 
  wasn’t about to hint at the obsessive keenness 
  with which she studied the objects of her hate 
  and fear.
  “The fi ve functional ones are mostly Bravo 
  Sierra. The three lights, two Locusts and a Wasp, 
  aren’t kept up for sin.”
  “Meanin’ they got half-assed drivers,” Buck 
  said.
  She shrugged. “Red Lion likes to think he 
  runs a taut outfi t. But he’s gotten sloppy. Still, 
  his second-in-command, tattooed woman 
  calls herself Krait, pilots a Vindicator and looks 
  like she knows how.”
  That got her audience looking worried. 
  The VND-1R massed the same as Gabby’s 
  45-ton Phoenix Hawk, but where the PH was 
  optimized for speed, the Vindicator went for 
  better fi repower and armor.
  “And then there’s Red Lion himself,” Cassie 
  said. “He may have let himself and his unit 
  discipline go. He keeps his Rifl eman squared away.”
  That was the really bad news. The Rifl eman was a 60-ton heavy hitter—with 
  a war-hero ’Mech jock.
  “Wait,” Cowboy said. “You said you were captured.”
  “Right away.”
  “Puta estúpida,” Princesa muttered. But Cowboy leaned forward, for once all 
  business.
  “And they let you go? With all this information?”
  “They wanna intimidate us,” said Buck. He sprawled back in his own chair at 
  apparent ease. Cassie wasn’t fooled.
  “The Red Lion wants to show the contempt he feels for us,” Cassie said. “To make 
  sure, he gave me a message to deliver to you in person, Lieutenant.”
  “What?” Gavilán said, a little too sharply.
  “He said that if you beard the lion in his lair, he’ll make sure you don’t keep 
  the equipment to be of any use to your mistress at all. Oh, and he—he used an 
  impolite modifi er, ’long with ‘mistress.’”
  All the color fell out of Gavilán’s face. “That’s it,” he said. “We’re going in after that 
  pinche huey cabrón.”
  Shanti touched his arm again. He shook his head as if shedding water.
  “Uh,” Buck said, a sound like a rusty gate hinge opening, “wouldn’t it be a good 
  idea if we had some kind of a plan?”
  “They’re pirate scum. We’re Caballeros. We go in and kick their asses. Plan.”
  The other three MechWarriors turned each other ghastly looks. Forgotten, 
  Cassie slipped away from the tent into the welcoming arms of the night.
  ▲▼▲
  ARTIST: EARL GEIER
  PUBLICATION: THE BATTLETECH COMPENDIUM
  YEAR: 1990
  ARTIST EARL GEIER
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  37
  
  O Z Y M A N D I A S
  white sparks struck off  the far side of Buck’s Jenner. Orange afterimage pulsed 
  behind her eyelids.
  When she looked again the Jenner was vanishing fast into the cover of low 
  ground farther west. Gabby’s ’Mech pounded forward. The building hiding 
  Krait’s machine now also screened his from her. Cowboy dueled with the two 
  pirate Locusts, jumping and dodging fi re from their lasers and the machineguns 
  mounted in their short “wings.” With surprising restraint he only fi red his own 
  laser occasionally: he was clearly trying to keep the two light ’Mechs busy. He 
  succeeded. Neither seemed inclined to venture far out of cover.
  Dust and fl aming bits of grass billowed from behind the westernmost building. 
  Krait’s Vindicator rose into the sky, a squat humanoid shape with dome head 
  growing right out of its angular torso. Its right arm PPC blazed at Gabby but 
  missed, igniting a thirty-meter swatch of grass behind him. The Vindicator’s right 
  thigh smoked and sprayed yellow-glowing, molten armor gobbets as the Phoenix 
  Hawk’s large laser raked it.
  Smoke and the toxic stinks of burned propellants, lubricants, and explosives 
  watered Cassie’s eyes, sizzled in her nose and throat, and clawed at her lungs. 
  The concussion of heavy weapons fi ring, the snap-crack of energy beams, and 
  projectiles slamming ferro-ceramic sandwich armor were like steel thumbs 
  pressing on her eardrums despite ballistic earplugs. They rang in her bones. 
  Blastwaves stung her, shook her brains, threatened her sanity. Still she hung on, a 
  grimly determined spectator at a gladiatorial combat of steel titans.
  Movement drew her eyes up and right. A Wasp leapt toward the fi ght with the 
  rising sun brightening its back. It fi red its medium laser.
  Cowboy turned and jumped to meet the newcomer. He shot, missed. Both 
  machines touched down. Both fl exing their legs, they fi red their jets and sprang 
  toward each other.
  A blue-green beam bored into Yellowjacket’s chest in a cloud of vaporized 
  metal. SRMs from the dual launcher in its left leg slammed into the pirate ’Mech’s 
  left shoulder. As the machines fl ew past each other, Cowboy raised his Wasp’s left 
  arm and neatly clotheslined his opposite number.
  Cassie felt the impact as the pirate Wasp crashed onto its back not three hundred 
  meters away. Descending like divine retribution, Cowboy shattered its cockpit 
  with two more SRM’s and fi lled its insides with blue-green laser hell-light.
  Gavilán battled Krait, dodging her PPC beams and LRMs salvos, using his ’Mech’s 
  maneuverability to his advantage. He was in range to tag her with her with his 
  arm-mounted medium lasers as well as the big laser gun. For good measure he 
  blazed away the machineguns in his arms as well; they could only hurt a medium 
  BattleMech by accident, but they didn’t increase his heat load. And heat was every 
  MechWarrior’s worst enemy in battle. 
  Streaks glowed and smoked on his Phoenix Hawk where the Vindicator had 
  scored with its head-mounted medium laser and the small laser in its left arm. El 
  Peregrino didn’t seem to have sustained serious damage yet.
  Princesa’s Locust now engaged its two opposite numbers. The former heavy-
  BattleMech driver didn’t fully respect the light ’Mechs, either her own or her 
  enemies’. Now one of the light pirate machines had emerged from cover to catch 
  her in pincers.
  The fl ash and thunderclap of the PPC snapped Cassie’s attention back to the 
  west. She saw the whole right side of Buck’s Jenner glowing white from a particle-
  beam hit.
  Princesa’s Locust blew up.
  ▲▼▲
  “Hang in there, Buck,” Staff  Sergeant Evans said. “We got her on the ropes.”
  His face’s right side prickled as if from sunburn. The cockpit felt like a blast-
  furnace. Buck smelled ozone, burning insulation. Scorched hair. Red lights glowed 
  all over the upper right side of his ’Mech’s wire-frame image in the damage 
  display. His right hip-actuator had a marked hitch in its gitalong and the upper 
  of the two medium lasers that made up his right arm had a short. It might melt a 
  rod if discharged again.
  And he felt great. The Vindicator was knocked all to Sierra. Black smoke gushed 
  from it. Shooting at him had meant Krait showing her ’Mech’s thinner back-armor 
  to Gabby’s guns. And Buck was going to get off  a shot from his four lasers and 
  quad SRM rack before that damned particle cannon recharged. If they could just 
  knock the pirate BattleMech out of the fi ght— 
  “Don’t be an old woman, Sawbuck.”
  “Then maybe you should remember what he told you about learning which head 
  to think with, boy.”
  “You can’t talk to me like that!”
  “Why do you think I’m here?”
  Silence stretched between them, popping slightly with atmospherics 
  engendered by Borgan’s Rift’s small and distant but violent primary. Fortunately 
  the Lance moved at a walk; they were still well shy of the thick forest. If there were 
  pirates squatting in spider holes in there, they’d let the enemy BattleMechs get 
  well inside before making their play. . . .
  “Halcón, Caballeros,” Gavilán said over the general freq. “Switch course to pass 
  west of the wooded ridge—”
  Buck hit the squelch button. “Never could outwait me, boy,” he said.
  Nonetheless, the sweat streamed down his face and his ribs beneath his arms, far 
  harder than the BattleMech’s operating heat could account for.
  ▲▼▲
  Wedged in her special hiding place, Cassie watched the four Caballero machines 
  appear around the stand of trees through her compact rangefi nder binoculars. 
  Lowering the now unneeded binocs, she compressed her lips in something like a 
  smile of satisfaction. Buck had gotten her message.
  Her slim body was a mass of aches. Her bandaged right hand ached with 
  every beat of her heart. A cold wind blew through her perch; temperatures 
  here dropped startlingly at night by Cassie’s standards. Her cramped metal 
  surroundings seemed to have turned into knives long ago. It didn’t matter. She 
  could handle pain.
  What she couldn’t handle was not being treated as a human. Not any more. 
  That stopped now.
  Cowboy’s Wasp was airborne in advance of the marching vee. Abruptly the 20-
  ton ’Mech, which resembled a pint-sized version of Gavilán’s ride, cut jets and 
  dropped the hundred meters to the ground. Short yellow grass ignited below the 
  descending metal feet as the Rawlings 52 thrusters mounted in the legs fl ared at 
  the last minute to break the ’Mech’s fall.
  Five bright blue light-points arced out from behind a building to the west 
  that stood outside the city. They left braided white smoke trails behind them as 
  they streaked toward Buck’s Jenner. With its cockpit thrusting forward from the 
  torso, the bipedal the 35-ton BattleMech resembled the front half of a camel. An 
  explosion fl ashed from the hump of the quad short-range missile launcher atop 
  the torso. Cassie didn’t think the hit penetrated armor; long range missiles carried 
  relatively light payloads.
  A beat later, blue-green medium laser beams fl ashed from behind two 
  buildings closer to Cassie’s lookout, east of where the LRMs had been launched. 
  Both missed Cowboy’s Wasp, which darted from side to side like a horse cutting 
  out a calf from the herd.
  Gavilán jumped his Phoenix Hawk toward the fi rst structure, fi ring the large 
  laser the ’Mech carried in its right hand. The Colonel’s heir may have had the moral 
  strength of a jellyfi sh and a proclivity to dither; in battle he was bold and decisive. 
  The fi ve-LRM launch had identifi ed Krait’s medium Vindicator as effi  ciently as an 
  Identifi cation Friend or Foe transmitter. He knew he faced a PPC, longer-ranged 
  and harder hitting than any weapon the ’lleros possessed.
  The Caballeros specialized in light BattleMech tactics. Southwesterners grew 
  up in the cockpits of the Locusts and armed agro-’Mechs they used to herd and 
  protect the huge, belligerent Ranger cattle whose beef and hides were a major 
  export—as well as settle disputes among themselves. Gavilán meant to get close 
  and then run and gun, relying on skill. And luck.
  Ignoring the Locusts’ fi re, Cowboy jumped again. The blue-green lance of his 
  arm-mounted medium laser stabbed at the Vindicator, still hidden from Cassie’s 
  perch fi ve meters off  the ground. Princesa’s own Locust, looking like a stub-winged 
  bird with its backward-jointed legs and the long barrel of its medium laser sticking 
  out before it, trotted toward the enemy ’Mech’s hiding place as well. 
  The Caballeros knew the Red Lion was out there somewhere in his huge 
  Rifl eman. Right now the Vindicator was the devil they knew. Gabby plainly hoped 
  to knock it out of the fi ght before the pirate chieftain weighed in.
  A blue-white beam fl ared from the western structure, so brilliant Cassie’s eyes 
  snapped refl exively shut: a particle projector cannon. She just had time to see 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  38
  
  O Z Y M A N D I A S
  ARTIST: STEVE VENTERS
  PUBLICATION: RECON LANCE
  YEAR: 1988
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  39
  
  O Z Y M A N D I A S
  ARTIST: EARL GEIER
  PUBLICATION: MECHWARRIOR: THE BATTLETECH
  ROLE PLAYING GAME SECOND EDITION
  YEAR: 1991
  Autocannons ripped the sky with demon noise as the Rifl eman moved in front 
  of her position. A vast metal leg appeared in her display.
  Cassie threw all her slight weight against a long, steel prybar. Above her, a great 
  weight shifted. So did the viewpoint on her screen.
  A reticule fl ashed red. She pressed a button. Clutching the notecomp, she 
  threw herself out of her hidey-hole.
  Above her, Hell erupted.
  ▲▼▲
  The PPC beam passed so close to Buck Evans’ charging Jenner that it made the 
  hair stand up on his nape between his helmet and his cooling-vest. 
  Suddenly a change seemed to overtake the enemy ’Mech. “Enemy Vindicator 
  entered thermal shutdown,” his annuciator intoned passionlessly.
  Buck whooped. His own heat was crowding the redline. He stopped for the 
  little thermal conservation that gave him, mashed buttons to fi re all his lasers 
  and missiles as one. White sparks fountained through his peripheral vision as the 
  upper-right laser blew out.
  Even as he fi red on the Vindicator, the blue-green beam of Cowboy’s medium 
  laser stuck it from behind. The long-range missiles stowed in its left torso blew up. 
  Explosions ripped the ’Mech front and back like squibs on a stunt-person in one 
  of those action holovids Southwesterners loved so dearly.
  Garish light illuminated Krait’s windscreen from the inside. Her machine rocked, 
  then settled, dead. She didn’t eject.
  Buck choked back a refl ex cry of triumph. He’d probably bought himself nothing 
  but a couple minutes more life, and then his own loud and messy death under the 
  Rifl eman’s arsenal. Slowing the Jenner to a walk, he switched his attention to the 
  Red Lion’s monster.
  “Callsign Princesa has deadlined,” the androgynous voice of his AI annunciator said.
  He looked at his board. The icon for Encarnación Martínez’s Locust blinked red. 
  He raised his eyes to look out the windscreen.
  The upper part of her fusion bottle’s containment cracked. After a pause as air 
  was sucked into the reactor’s vacuum chamber, a white-light pillar joined dirt to 
  the yellow-streaked blue of the sky. Gutted, the Locust teetered on its two skinny 
  legs and crumpled to its left.
  It took no time to conjure the cause for BattleMech and MechWarrior’s swift end. 
  From behind the city’s ancient failed guardian, whose fi fty fi ve tons had shielded it 
  from detection, the pirate Rifl eman had risen up like an avenging planetary spirit to 
  blast the Locust’s tinfoil-thin rear armor with the two medium autocannons, mounted 
  tandem to large lasers, which made up its arms. Its two torso-mounted medium lasers 
  had discharged too. Neither Princesa nor her ride had stood a chance.
  And now, maybe, neither did they.
  “Well, hell,” Buck gritted. “This is really gonna suck.”
  Then he focused all his attention on the nearer Vindicator. With a rebel yell he 
  charged and fi red with everything he had.
  ▲▼▲
  A large laser beam glanced off  the two jump jets mounted on the Phoenix 
  Hawk’s back as Gavilán Camacho spun to face the new threat. 
  Cassie could hear heat pinging from the laser’s long shroud as the Rifl eman 
  rolled by within meters of her. The 60-ton monster’s joints whirred and creaked as 
  plastic muscles pulled at them. Its footfalls rattled her perch.
  She made herself look away from the terrifying spectacle of the behemoth, all 
  her nightmares made steel and walking by close enough to touch. Instead she 
  concentrated on her notecomp screen.
  ARTIST EARL GEIER
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  40
  
  O Z Y M A N D I A S
  ARTIST: STEVE VENTERS
  PUBLICATION: MECHWARRIOR: THE 
  BATTLETECH ROLE PLAYING GAME
  YEAR: 1986
  ’Mechs, not men. And whilst them security boys’n’girls ain’t much mortal use 
  against BattleMechs, they’re decent for groundsloggers. Better’n the pirates.
  “You know what you done, girl? You didn’t just save our bacon. Even though 
  Shanti’ll grab the lion’s share of salvage, both as employer and ’cause her troops’re 
  actually fi ghting, what the Regiment’s gonna get from the enemy ’Mechs, plus the 
  success bonus, will be a huge help to the Caballeros. Diff erence between life and 
  death. And I know, and I’ll make damn sure el Patrón knows, it’s all due to you.”
  “I guess so,” she said.
  “Answer me a question, Suthorn?”
  “Maybe.”
  “Why’d you take such crazy risks for people who’ve been treating you, all things 
  taken together, like a stray three-legged dog?”
  She turned blinking eyes at him. “You don’t understand,” she said. “I 
  had to. You’re all I have. You’re my family.”
  He looked at her a long moment. This time when he hugged her to 
  him she didn’t resist.
  “Yeah, Cassie, we are. Welcome to la Familia. You’re a Caballero 
  now.
  “And don’t let nobody tell you diff erent, from this day on.”
  He saw fl ashes as short-range missiles smashed into the thin-skinned back of 
  the Rifl eman. Impossibly, a grey smoke puff  indicated they’d launched from the 
  Gladiator. Which had stood inert and eviscerated for over two hundred years.
  The ripple of powerful blasts tore through the heavy BattleMech’s paper-thin 
  rear armor, where a mechanical shrieking announced the demise of the ’Mech’s 
  gyroscope. For a moment the Rifl eman continued to stagger forward, precariously 
  upright, held by the Red Lion’s piloting skill. And will.
  The shot that Gavilán Camacho put into the big ’Mech’s right shoulder from 
  his large laser as he jumped toward the now-crippled machine was just piling on 
  insult to injury. It was physics that doomed the Lion and his ride. 
  The Rifl eman fell on its face so hard it bounced two meters into the air. Gabby 
  fl ayed its back with his three lasers. Then all forty-fi ve tons of his Phoenix Hawk 
  came down on the back of the Rifl eman’s cockpit and crushed it like a roach 
  underfoot.
  ▲▼▲
  She sat on the grass with her arms tight around drawn-up knees. Her reddened 
  eyes were dry now. Tear-tracks prickled her cheeks.
  Through the ringing aftershock, she could barely hear the gravel-voiced, 
  “Suthorn?”
  Then, “Cassie?” She sensed a looming presence kneeling down beside her. 
  Turned and looked at Buck Evans. His badlands face was deeper-
  grooved than normal with concern. 
  “Honey? Are you all right?” He touched her on the shoulder.
  She went rigid. “Oh, Sierra, Suthorn. Give me a break. I’m not 
  gonna molest you. Hell, it ain’t safe. You just killed a goddam 
  heavy BattleMech pretty much single-handed. All Gabby did was 
  put the icing on the cake.”
  “Everybody okay?”
  “Well, Princesa’s with the Virgin now, which I admit I’d 
  pay to see. Plus Cowboy ground-looped his ’Mech doing a 
  victory dance and busted his fool arm. Past that, peachy.”
  Cassie shivered. Buck looked up at the metal giant 
  looming above them in all its corroded glory.
  “Where in the name of Tommy Marik’s bleeding piles did 
  you get hold of a damn SRM six-rack? And how the hell did 
  you get it up and into that old wreck?”
  “From Shanti’s big warehouse outside Newport last night,” Cassie said. “With a 
  pulley and a mule’s power winch.”
   She held up her right hand. Red had seeped through the bandages that 
  swathed it. “Kinda munched my hand.”
  “And then you sent me that message, and crouched up there half the night, 
  hurtin’ and freezing your little fanny off , while the pirates crept out about you and 
  took up their ambush positions? Jesu Cristo.” 
  He knelt beside her again shaking his head. “What do you got runnin’ through 
  your veins, girl? 
  She gave him a tight little smile that brought arcs of cheek into her fi elds of 
  view. “Worked, didn’t it?”
  “I’d say so.”
  He sat down heavily beside her. He was bareheaded. The right side of his face 
  glowed bright pink. The hair on that side of his head was curled crisp by 
  heat.
  “You okay?” she asked.
  “Nothin’ I won’t get over. You should see the other guy. Or, uh, gal.”
  “We won?”
  “Hoo, did we. One Locust driver gave up when you took down his boss. 
  The other died running. Hear that?”
  From the direction of Howe came the thud of distant explosions. 
  Brown smoke rolled into the sky from half a dozen points inside the 
  great industrial jumble.
  “Shanti’s goons’re mopping up. Went through them pirates in 
  the woods like crap through a condor. They were set to bushwhack 
  RI
  NG
  up
  e
  li
  w
  d
  m
  d
  di
  t
  id
  d
  h
  g
  up
  re
  o
  ch
  he
  wa
  O
  d
  e
  s 
  b
  Why d you take such crazy risks for people who ve been treating you, all things 
  taken together, like a stray three-legged dog?”
  She turned blinking eyes at him. “You don’t understand,” she said. “I 
  had to You’re all I have You’re my family”
  ers into the air. Gabby
  s of his Phoenix Hawk
  rushed it like a roach
  IOR: THE
  G GAME
  had to. Youre all I have. Youre my family.
  He looked at her a long moment. This time when he hugged her to 
  him she didn’t resist.
  “Yeah, Cassie, we are. Welcome to la Familia. You’re a Caballero 
  now.
  “And don’t let nobody tell you diff erent, from this day on.”
  p knees. Her reddened
  ear the gravel-voiced,
  ing down beside her.
  was deeper-
  der.
  m not
  ddam
  id was 
  d 
  did 
  ht,” Cassie said. “With a
  gh the bandages that
  p there half the night,
  ept out about you and
  ou got runnin’ through
  heek into her fi elds of 
  e right side of his face
  as curled crisp by 
  Or, uh, gal.”
  down his boss.
  explosions. 
  inside the 
  pirates in 
  bushwhack 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  41
  
  T E C H N I C A L  R E A D O U T S
  T E C H N I C A
  C
  L  R E A D O U T S
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  42
  
  T E C H N I C A L  R E A D O U T S
  T E
  T E
  T E
  T E C H
  C H
  C H
  C H N I C A
  C A
  C A
  C A L  
  L
  R E A D O U T S
  Since Technical Readout: 3025 fi rst published in 1986, the Technical Readout 
  series has proven to be one of the most successful line of gaming sourcebooks 
  ever published. With over a dozen books released, and Technical Readout: 3025 in 
  continual publication for well over 20 years, a new Technical Readout is a much 
  anticipated event.
  The ultimate guidebooks to the weaponry and war machines of the 31st century, 
  BattleTech Technical Readouts describe the BattleMechs, Combat Vehicles, Support 
  Vehicles, aerospace fi ghters, DropShips, WarShips, infantry and more of the BattleTech 
  universe. Each fully illustrated entry in these reference books contains complete 
  BattleTech game statistics.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  43
  
   
  ARTIST: DOUG CHAFFEE
  PUBLICATION: TECHNICAL READOUT: 3039
  YEAR: 2008
  YEAR: 2008
  YEAR: 2008
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  44
  
   
  ARTIST: MARC SASSO
  PUBLICATION: FIELD MANUAL: PERIPHERY
  YEAR: 2001
  YEAR: 2001
  YEAR: 2001
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  45
  
  S T A R F I R E
  ARTIST: STEVE VENTERS
  PUBLICATION: BATTLEFORCE BOX SET
  YEAR: 1987
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  46
  
  S T A R F I R E
  ROSETTA
  World Name: Rosetta (Moon of Champollion)
  Star Type (Recharge Time): A1V (162 hours)
  Position in System: 4
  Time to Jump Point: 47.06 days
  Number of Satellites: N/A
  Surface Gravity: 0.89
  Atm. Pressure: Standard (Breathable)
  Equatorial Temperature: 29° C (Arid)
  Surface Water Coverage: 70 percent
  Recharging Station: None
  HPG Class Type: None
  Highest Native Life: None
  Population Size (3028): 12,150,000
  Socio-Industrial Levels: D-C-B-D-B
  Formerly a possession of the Rim Worlds Republic, the 
  terraformed moon Rosetta is the third (of thirteen) major moons 
  of the super-Jovian planet Champollion, which is in turn the 
  fourth planet of the A1V-type star Ptolemy-A. Per convention, 
  the system is named after the habitable world, Rosetta. The 
  moon was terraformed during the Star League to ease access 
  to its mineral resources and, like many Republican worlds, 
  was settled by colonists from the Terran Hegemony in the Star 
  League’s “safest” region of the Periphery.
  Rosetta’s terraforming has been remarkably stable, and it 
  is (with the assistance of Champollion) in Ptolemy-A’s life zone. 
  Ptolemy-B, a white dwarf, complicates this stability, though, by 
  making close passes to Ptolemy-A every 50 years. Every third 
  pass, Ptolemy-B also approaches Champollion closely. This 
  doesn’t warm Rosetta directly, but tidal interactions do cause 
  an outburst of tectonic and volcanic activity. Sulfur-rich Rosetta 
  then often ﬂ oods its plains with molten sulfur. The ﬁ rst time 
  this happened after colonization, the Star League was prepared 
  for it. The second time, both the Star League and the Rim 
  Worlds were long gone and the colony was devastated. Since 
  then, the colony (slowly declining from a peak of about 14 million 
  inhabitants) has relocated away from the region where the worst 
  activity occurs, Rosetta’s nearside to Champollion. 
  Rosetta is ruled by a small planetary council in the capital 
  of Young, but on occasion pirates have taken over the world 
  and used it as a base of operations for raiding the Lyran 
  Commonwealth.
  DROPSHIP RAMBLIN’ WRECK
  IN-BOUND ROSETTA SYSTEM
  PERIPHERY
  10 OCTOBER 3028
  “The system is completely crazy,” Beth Ann Lindstrom said. “It shouldn’t have a 
  planet at all. Especially not one with a viable ecosystem!”
  Three of us were in the Ramblin’ Wreck’s common room, going over the fi nal 
  details of the plan. Light blasted the room, streaming in from the local star 
  displayed on the viewall. Even stopped down by the ship’s optics, the searing 
  white glare was impossible to look at directly. 
  “Rosetta’s star is pretty bright,” I admitted. “Type A1. But the old Star League was 
  good at terraforming. Given enough time, they could make lifeless rocks bloom.”
  “I don’t question that,” Beth said. The light from the viewall gleamed off  the skin 
  of her face and the frizz of her hair, touching them with blue-white ice. “But every 
  so often that white dwarf companion is going to swing in close and scramble 
  things, and it’s hard to imagine how a planetary system there could remain 
  stable.”
  “Well, the good news is,” I told her, “that we won’t have to be there long enough 
  to see for ourselves. In and out, a quick smash-and-grab.”
  “With the emphasis on grab,” Julian Kirkpatrick said, leering. He was leaning 
  against a bulkhead, arms folded, his considerable mass all-but-fi lling the relatively 
  small compartment. “You tell me what you want on that dirtball, babe, and me an’ 
  old Skullcrusher’ll get it for you. No problem!”
  Beth gave him a cold look. Kirkpatrick had been posturing and fl exing in front of 
  her for the whole voyage out from Tharkad, I knew, trying to get into her pants.
  “So what’s your problem with Rosetta?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation 
  back on track. “The Planetbook lists it as Type E-12v. That’s marginal for humans, 
  but well within the star’s habitable zone.”
  “It’s the ‘v’ that worries me, Chris,” she said. “V for variable. Ptolemy is not a 
  variable star, and our target world does not have a strongly-elliptical orbit. We 
  don’t have any hard data on the system’s variability.”
  “Like I said,” Kirkpatrick rumbled, verbally shouldering into the conversation 
  once again. “No problem! Ain’t nothing me and Skullcrusher can’t handle!”
  “Do you mind, Lieutenant?” I asked him. “We’re trying to have a planning 
  conference here.”
  “Mechdrek,” he said. “What’s to plan? We go in, we fi nd the depot, we empty 
  it. If the damned lokies get in the way ...” Graphically, he smacked fi st against 
  palm, showing what he had in mind for the locals. “Job over, healthy bonuses all 
  around!”
  “Listen, Julian,” I said, leafi ng through a sheaf of printouts on the table in front 
  of me. “I still need your pre-action report.”
  “It shoulda already been there.”
  And it was, but I wasn’t going to admit that to him. “Nope. You have that ready 
  for us?”
  “Yeah ... drekkin’ all the way down in the ’MechBay. Why ... you want it now?”
  “Please.” I gave him a bright smile. “If you would be so kind.”
  I thought he was going to balk, but after an uneasy moment he seemed to 
  reconsider. He ambled out of the common room, mumbling something about 
  armchair malfs. I let the borderline insubordination pass. Kirkpatrick was a law 
  unto himself, and I knew better than to push too hard.
   “Why do you put up with that?” Beth asked after the grumbling man-mountain 
  had left.
  I shrugged. “He’s not normally my problem,” I told her. “But he was assigned to 
  us for this op. And he is one of the Roughriders’ best ’Mech pilots. So he’s all ours 
  until we get back to Tharkad.”
  Hansen’s Roughriders currently held a mercenary contract with Katrina Steiner, 
  and it was Steiner’s Tech Bureau that had come to us with an urgent mission, 
  codenamed Operation Prometheus. The Colonel had accepted, but our assets 
  were tight and Prometheus was going to be a shoestring op—two ’Mechs, two 
  heavy tanks, and a platoon of light infantry in support.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  47
  STARFIRE
  W I L L I A M  H .  K E I T H ,  J R .
  
  S T A R F I R E
  ARTIST: DUANE LOOSE
  PUBLICATION: TECHNICAL READOUT: 3025
  YEAR: 1986
  that girdled the world’s inhospitable tropics.
   “Are you worried about Ptolemy B?” I continued. “I thought that 
  pipsqueak was too small to aff ect Ptolemy A’s planetary system 
  much.”
  “Ptolemy B is almost at its closest point to Ptolemy A,” she pointed 
  out, studying the colored arcs and ellipses describing the system’s 
  current confi guration. “Not only that, but on this pass, Champollion 
  and Rosetta are squarely between A and B. Look . . . Ptolemy B is passing 
  Rosetta at a distance of less than three and a half AUs. Absolute minimum 
  distance.” I could almost hear the wheels turning in her brain. A set 
  of mathematical calculations appeared on the screen as she tapped 
  out a problem set. “That only happens once in ... make it once 
  in 150 years.”
  Once every fi fty years, the white dwarf Ptolemy B 
  swung in close to Ptolemy A and its retinue of unlikely, 
  star-baked worlds. During those fi fty years, Champollion 
  circled Ptolemy A seven and one third times ... which 
  meant that once in three orbits of Ptolemy B—150 
  years—they would line up again with Champollion 
  squarely between the two stars, a one to three orbital 
  resonance.
  “So ...” I asked, uncertain, “is that a problem?”
  She shook her head. “Shouldn’t be. Even at its 
  closest, B doesn’t get closer to Rosetta than three and 
  a half AUs. There’ll be gravitational eff ects, of course, 
  but the system has held this orbital confi guration for 
  three hundred million years, and the planetary orbits 
  haven’t been disrupted yet.”
  “What about a temperature increase? Two stars in the sky 
  instead of one?”
  “That’ll have even less eff ect. Ptolemy B is hot, yes ... but it’s 
  also tiny. All of that mass is packed into a ball about the same 
  size as Earth—a classic white dwarf. Its luminosity is only 
  about one ten-thousandth that of its partner. It will add light, 
  but not enough heat to pose a threat. We’ll have more to 
  worry about from the UV and soft x-rays it’s giving off , 
  and Rosetta’s atmosphere should shield us from most of 
  that.”
  Once, Ptolemy B had been bigger and brighter than 
  Ptolemy A, but 120 million years ago it had burned 
  up most of the fusion fuel at its core, expanded into a 
  red giant, then dwindled down to a shrunken, fi ercely-
  incandescent white dwarf. It was now so dense that a cupful 
  of starstuff  scooped from its surface would mass as much as a 
  fair-sized mountain. As Beth had noted, it was a fairly strong source of x-rays and 
  ultraviolet radiation. Rosetta’s atmosphere would block most of that, however, 
  and we would be wearing shielded utilities. We’d be safe enough for the short 
  time we’d be on the moon’s surface.
  Beth tapped out another command on the keyboard, and the orbital schematics 
  were replaced by an optical image of Rosetta.
  It looked ... wrong, somehow, evil ... a diseased-looking black and gray, red, 
  yellow, and white. Something less than half of the surface was covered by shallow, 
  circular seas, and most of the land area, as Beth had pointed out, was either ocher 
  desert or smooth black, red, and yellow swaths of sulfur plain. Mountain ranges, 
  in places thrusting as high as thirty kilometers above sea level, ringed the world’s 
  equator and crinkled out between seas and deserts like wrinkles in the skin of a 
  rotting piece of fruit. There were no ice caps, no glaciers or snow cover even on 
  the highest mountaintops; the white we saw was the gleaming swirl and spatter 
  of cloud formations, and the duller, metallic white of numerous salt fl ats encircling 
  dark and slowly dwindling seas.
  “The planet,” she continued, “is a geological mess. An anomaly. Lots of solid sulfur 
  on the surface. Hot salt springs. Lots of volcanoes. I’m just afraid that we’re not 
  seeing the entire picture, here. There could be dangers we’re not anticipating.”
  “It’s a planet!” I laughed. “There are always unanticipated dangers!”
  “A lot will depend on just how good the Star League terraforming was,” she told 
  me. “How well it took. How well it’s lasted.”
  Of course, a large reason for the light load was the need for empty 
  cargo space on our DropShip. The Ramblin’ Wreck was a venerable 
  Union-class in-system hauler, with a normal ’Mech bay capacity of 
  twelve ’Mechs. By going in with just two ’Mechs on board, Connelly’s 
  Cicada and Kirkpatrick’s big-ass Atlas, we would have bay slots for ten 
  more coming out.
  That was the point of the op, of course. Well ... part of it. The thing 
  about Star League lostech is that you could never quite be sure what 
  the real payoff  was going to be. If our lovely technoarchaeologist 
  on loan from House Steiner was as sharp as I thought she was, we 
  might be coming away with a whole lot more than factory-new 
  BattleMechs. We could be looking at the score of a lifetime.
  “Back to Tharkad,” Beth said, repeating my last words. “It can’t 
  happen soon enough.”
  “Has lover-boy there been giving you a bad time?”
  “What ... besides the passes? Not really, but if he doesn’t 
  learn to keep his slimy paws to himself ...”
  “I’ll have a word with him, if you want.” Not that it would 
  do much good. Julian Kirkpatrick was the quintessential 
  ’Mech-driver hot-shot—an absolute holy terror in combat, 
  which made him damned valuable, even irreplaceable.
  And he knew it, unfortunately, which meant a long string 
  of commanding offi  cers had winked at insubordination, 
  conduct unbecoming, recklessness, even outright violation 
  of direct orders. The guy could fi ght, and he could handle a 
  one-hundred-ton BattleMech like it was an extension of his 
  own body.
  “Well, you can have a word with him,” Beth said, “or I 
  can kick him in the crotch the next time he gropes my ass 
  in a narrow ship’s passageway.”
  I decided it was safest to change the subject. “You were telling 
  me about the variability in the Rosetta System,” I prompted.
  “Right. The Planetbook gives the temperature range for 
  Ptolemy IV C as ten to sixty degrees. No axial tilt, so no seasons. 
  We’ll be at about fi fty degrees south latitude, so we can expect 
  to be at the cooler end of that range. Twenty, thirty degrees 
  Celsius?”
  “Still plenty warm,” I said, nodding. Colonel Hansen and I 
  had been over the stats before we left Tharkad. I tapped 
  out an access code on a keypad set into the table top. 
  The glare from the viewall faded out, replaced by 
  orbital schematics of the Ptolemean system.
  In common usage, of course, the star was often called “Rosetta,” 
  though that was actually the name of the planet. Nearly identical in 
  most respects to the Sirius star system, much deeper in the Inner Sphere, Ptolemy 
  consisted of two stellar components—Ptolemy A, the big, bright Type A1 beacon 
  which had burned so brightly on the viewall a moment before, and Ptolemy B, a 
  shrunken white dwarf in an elliptical, fi fty-year orbit around A.
  Unlike Sirius, however, Ptolemy had a superjovian world, Champollion, aka 
  Ptolemy IV, orbiting at a distance of 4.6 astronomical units, circling the primary 
  once in 6.8 years. Rosetta was an Earth-sized satellite of Champollion (Ptolemy IV 
  C), 1.8 million kilometers from the planet and orbiting it every sixteen days.
  “There are several factors aff ecting the planet’s surface temperature,” I said. 
  “There’s Ptolemy A, of course, the primary. But apparently Champollion—the 
  superjovian planet—is radiating a lot more heat from its interior than it gets from 
  Ptolemy A. It’s practically a brown dwarf.”
  “Uh-huh,” she said, agreeing. “The Champollion-Rosetta pair is pretty far out in 
  A’s habitable zone. You would expect glaciers and ice caps. Instead we have a 
  planet with a land surface area that’s eighty percent desert and sulfur fl ats, and 
  daytime temperatures ranging from comfy to sweltering.”
  “Well, yeah. That superjovian adds about ten percent of the energy driving 
  Rosetta’s climate, both from direct radiation, and through tidal eff ects on Rosetta’s 
  crust.”
  Rosetta was tidally locked with the massive Champollion, eternally keeping 
  the same face to its immense primary. Tidal fl exing within Rosetta’s crust helped 
  warm the moon, and powered the chain of thousands of equatorial volcanoes 
  m
  “
  out,
  curre
  and Ro
  Rosetta 
   
  e 
  f 
  s 
  n
  g
  at
  st 
  AR
  ART
  ART
  ART
  ART
  ART
  ART
  ART
  ART
  ART SIST
  IST
  IST
  IST
  IST
  IST
  IST D
  : D
  : D
  : DUAN
  UAN
  UANE L
  E LOOS
  O
  OOS
  OOSE
  PUBLICATION: TECHNICAL READOUT: 3025
  distance.” I cou
  of mathematic
  out a pro
  in 15
  O
  swu
  sta
  circ
  m
  y
  sq
  re
  a
  b
  t
  hav
  “What 
  instead o
  “That’ll
  also tiny. A
  size as E
  about on
  but n
  worr
  and
  tha
  g
  ght she was, w
  ctory-new 
  time.
  . “It can’t 
  esn’t 
  ould 
  ential 
  bat, 
  .
  ng 
  n,
  on
  e a 
  his 
  r I 
  ass 
  ere telling 
  pted.
  range for 
  o seasons. 
  n expect
  egrees
  nd I
  d 
  d
  o
  we 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  48
  
  S T A R F I R E
  ARTIST: MATT PLOG
  PUBLICATION: TECHMANUAL
  YEAR: 2007
  : M
  AT
  0
  MATT PLOG
  TION: TECHMANUAL
  07
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  49
  
  S T A R F I R E
  ARTIST: DAVID R. DEITRICK
  PUBLICATION: MERCENARY HANDBOOK
  YEAR: 1987
  chaos of the Succession Wars. Today, the Periphery consisted of bandit worlds and 
  pirate havens, petty star-kingdoms, even planets where civilization had crumbled 
  all the way back to the stone age, in some cases, or places 
  where there was nothing left but bombed-out 
  ruins and death.
  We knew there was still technic 
  civilization of some sort on Rosetta; 
  the local traffi  c control net had 
  challenged us shortly after we’d 
  dropped into the system, and we’d 
  given them our cover story. So far 
  as they were concerned, we were an 
  independent trading vessel, working our 
  way through the Periphery. Apart from 
  being given landing instructions, we’d 
  been left alone.
  As Beth had already noted, all of the 
  local 
  settlements—old-style 
  plasteel 
  domes and scattered collections of half-
  buried habitats—were on the side of the 
  moon facing away from Champollion, 
  the nearest three thousand kilometers 
  from our target area.
  Which was perfect. We weren’t 
  likely to have unwanted guests 
  looking over our shoulders.
  Beth used the time up on the 
  control deck, checking scanner 
  returns with her data in order 
  to pinpoint our objective. Once 
  she’d done that, Captain Carleton 
  gave the order and we de-
  orbited, balancing down on a tail 
  of fi re toward a nondescript spot 
  in the rugged moon’s southern 
  hemisphere.
  I met with the detachment’s 
  two MechWarriors in the main 
  bay. Since Rosetta’s atmosphere 
  was breathable, both airlock 
  doors were open, and harsh 
  light spilled in from outside. Our 
  troops were already clumping 
  down the ramp to establish a 
  defensive perimeter, following the two Roughrider tanks we’d 
  brought along for infantry close support. The two ’Mechs, Connelly’s 
  CDA-2A Cicada and Kirkpatrick’s towering AS7-D Atlas, stood locked in 
  their alcoves, partly masked in shadow, partly illuminated by the glare 
  of work lights as their tech crews completed 
  their fi nal mission prep.
  Kirkpatrick and Lieutenant Mike Connelly 
  were waiting for me in the bay when I got 
  there, already stripped down to trunks and 
  cooling vests, ready to lock in.
  “There’s no sign of response from the lokies,” I told them. “I think they 
  bought our story. So it goes down as planned. Mike, you’re on scout-
  recon, but don’t get more than fi ve klicks from the ship. Julian ...”
  He made a face and interrupted. “Yeah, yeah. Manual labor. Connie here gets to 
  play soldier while I get to get Skullcrusher’s hands dirty!”
  “That’s why we brought along an Atlas,” I told him. “It wasn’t because of your 
  charming personality.”
  “It’s drekkin’ nonsense, is what it is,” he grumbled. “You should—huh? 
  Whassat?”
  Kirkpatrick looked around, startled. The DropShip’s steel deck was trembling 
  slightly, a gentle, rolling motion, and we could hear a far off  rumble.
  “Planetquake,” I told him. “A tidal quake, actually. The white dwarf star in this 
  I nodded agreement. “Well, the last time the Planetbook was updated, Rosetta 
  had a population of 12 million. The place has been inhabited for over 400 years ... 
  and that means they’ve been through a few close passages of Ptolemy B already.”
  “The last one in 2878,” she said, running another fast calculation. “Around the  
  beginning of the Third Succession War.”
  “Records from that period are kind of scattered,” I said. “But the colony’s still 
  there, obviously.”
   “But this system is so damned unlikely,” she said. “These planetary orbits can’t 
  be stable over the long term.”
  I knew what she meant. Champollion and its system of moons, including 
  Rosetta, could only have been in their current orbits for three hundred 
  million years or so ... an eye’s blink in the cosmic long view. 
  Ptolemy B’s red giant phase would have signifi cantly altered 
  planetary orbits, though it was impossible to guess 
  what they’d been like before.
  We did know that prior to the arrival of humans 
  in the system, Rosetta had been barren and 
  utterly lifeless. Three hundred million years 
  is simply not long enough for life to evolve 
  from a standing start. Star League planetary 
  engineers had imported cometary ice to 
  create the seas, and fusion converters to 
  transform water vapor and ammonia 
  into oxygen and nitrogen, a long and 
  intricate process.
  “Oh, we’ll fi nd the unexpected, 
  all right,” I told Beth. I switched the 
  viewall back to the external view, and 
  again the dazzling glare of Ptolemy A 
  fi lled the compartment.
   “But it’s the human element 
  we’re likely to encounter that always 
  worries me.”
  “That won’t be a problem,” she 
  told me with a shrug. “The nearest 
  local dome to our objective is 
  three thousand kilometers away. 
  Three thousand rugged kilometers, 
  on the side of Rosetta away 
  from Champollion. Like that pet 
  Neanderthal of yours said, we go in, 
  grab the goodies, and leave. Nothing 
  to it!”
  Beth Lindstrom, obviously, was 
  a thoroughgoing civilian. If she’d 
  had ten grams of genuine military 
  experience in her kit, she’d have 
  known better.
  ▲▼▲
  Two days later we made planetfall.
  The 
  DropShip 
  passage 
  from 
  the Ptolemean zenith jump point out to 
  Champollion-Rosetta had taken the better part of seven weeks. 
  We backed down into orbit on our torch, and once again fell into the stomach-
  fl opping lack of up and down that marked microgravity.
  The local system was primitive to the point of barbaric. Rosetta was out on the 
  Periphery, outside of Lyran space and within a ragtag collection of cast-off  worlds 
  that was calling itself—this year at least—the Ptolemean Province. Next year, the 
  pirates that notionally ruled it would probably be gone, leaving the Province’s 
  worlds to fade back into obscurity.
  Normally, nowadays, the Periphery was seen as nothing but trouble; back in the 
  days of the Star League, they’d been the frontier, the leading edge of Humankind’s 
  expansion into the galaxy.
  But that had been before the Star League’s fall, before the ongoing collapse and 
  where there
  ru
  civ
  he
  ha
  o
  ve
  th
  ep
  t
  g 
  le
  B
  me
  ie
  oo
  e
  ro
  li
  l
  ng
  u
  ow
  d
  li
  al
  at
  ait
  re
  g
  ,
  y
  unning another fast calculation. Around the 
  War.”
  nd o
  nlike
  llion
  eir c
  nk i
  ave 
  ossi
  val o
  barr
  lion
  to ev
  anet
  ice t
  s to
  ia 
  d 
  d, 
  e 
  d 
  A 
  nt 
  ys 
  e 
  st 
  is 
  y. 
  s, 
  y 
  et 
  n, 
  g 
  as 
  ’d 
  ry 
  ve 
  ll.
  m 
  oint out to 
  ARTIST: DAVID R. DEITRICK
  PUBLICATION: MERCENARY HANDBOOK
  YEAR: 1987
  c
  th
  ch
  dro
  giv
  as t
  inde
  way 
  being
  been 
  As 
  local 
  dom
  bur
  mo
  th
  fr
  defensive perimeter, followin
  brought along for infantry close s
  CDA-2A Cicada and Kirkpatrick’s to
  their alcoves, partly masked in sha
  of work 
  their fi na
  Kirkpa
  were wa
  there, al
  cooling vests, ready to lock in.
  of scattered,” I said. “But the colony’s still 
  ely,” she said. “These planetary orbits can’t
  n and its system of moons, including 
  urrent orbits for three hundred
  in the cosmic long view.
  signifi cantly altered 
  ble to guess 
  f humans
  ren and 
   years
  volve 
  ary 
  to
  out to 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  50
  
  S T A R F I R E
  of bubbling red, molten sulfur gave off  clouds of steam and that rotten-egg 
  stench, the perfect image of the Medieval myth of Hell. There were trees in the 
  distance—wizened, dry-looking things that must have been the descendents of 
  gene-tailored vegetation brought from Earth by the Star League.
  A deep boom sounded from behind me as Connelly’s Cicada stepped down 
  the ramp and onto the surface. The CDA-2A Cicada was a recon ’Mech, fast, 
  maneuverable, and massing just forty tons. The machine mounted three lasers, and 
  possessed a respectable battle history. Under Mike Connelly’s guidance, the ’Mech, 
  named Strider, stretched out its long legs and began fast-pacing toward the south.
  A deeper, more thunderous boom sounded, and Kirkpatrick’s Atlas stepped out 
  of the deeply shadowed DropShip entryway.
  The Atlas towered about thirteen meters high, over half-again taller than the 
  Cicada, and massed an earth-shuddering 100 tons. Its spherical head had been 
  painted with a grinning, jagged-toothed mouth, turning the machine’s death’s 
  head into the face of a fi erce-grinning demon, the stuff  of nightmares. The Atlas
  was the big gun of any ’Mech detachment but, this time at least, we’d not brought 
  one along for the fi repower.
  Beth and I had something else in mind. This time around the Atlas was going 
  to be our WorkMech.
  “It looks like we have the right place,” Beth said, coming up behind me. “We’ve 
  found a large structure of some sort, right where it was supposed to be. It’s buried, 
  but there are some pylons at the surface with legible Star League emblems, and 
  there’s a number matching the code on the Carlyle data.”
  “Excellent,” I told her. “Show me.”
  A few months earlier, another mercenary unit called the Gray Death Legion had 
  made a remarkable fi nd on a world in Marik space—a place called Helm.  They’d 
  found there a cache of lostech, including a computer memory core preserved 
  from the days of the old Star League.
  The Legion’s commander, a guy named Grayson Carlyle, had made the 
  unprecedented gesture of copying the memcore and distributing the copies to 
  all of the Inner Sphere houses.
  The guy’s reasoning, I’d been told, was that technic civilization was on the point 
  of collapse across the Inner Sphere; that memory core included a vast library of 
  data on such mundane skills as growing better crops, employing better hygiene, 
  and developing better medicines—all the things necessary for stopping the fall 
  of civilization and holding back the onset of the Long Night.
  Some people in the Lyran Commonwealth were spitting mad about that. He 
  system is approaching its closest passage. Ship’s Planetology says we can expect 
  a lot of those in the next few days. It won’t be a problem. We’ve spotted what we 
  think is our objective, two point one kilometers southwest. You’ll mount guard 
  there until the diggers need you.”
  “How about we just use ’Crusher’s lasers?” he said, pulling his hands from 
  imaginary holsters and pointing his forefi ngers at me, thumbs up, miming a couple 
  of hand guns. “Ssst! Ssst! We’ll have that bunker melted out in no time fl at!”
  “You listen to me, Kirkpatirck,” I said, my voice dropping to what I hoped was a 
  suitably dangerous growl. “I have had all the hot-shot back-talking insubordinate 
  crap out of you I am going to take. We’re here to support Beth Lindstrom and 
  her team. That means you shut the hell up and do as you’re told. You aren’t 
  going to sneeze unless I give you the go-ahead ... you understand me?”
  Kirkpatrick glared at me, and I thought for a moment I was going to get an 
  argument from him. I almost welcomed the chance to have it out with the jerk. I 
  wasn’t piloting a ’Mech this time around, but me and my Warhammer had seen 
  plenty of action with the Roughriders, and I’d been a Centurion driver before that, 
  back in my days with Steiner’s House Guard. If I had to, I’d toss Kirkpatrick’s ass into 
  the brig and take his Atlas out myself.
  “I ... understand,” Kirkpatrick said after a heavy moment. “Sir.”
  The honorifi c was more sneer than anything else, but he didn’t give me the 
  expected argument. Turning on his heel, he strode toward the service elevator 
  that would take him up to his ’Mech’s cockpit.
  “That guy is a royal pain in the jump jets,” Connelly said, shaking his head. “That 
  attitude of his is going to get him into real trouble someday.”
  “Haven’t you heard, Mike?” I said. I knew how much he hated the nickname 
  Kirkpatrick had hung on him—Connie. “The guy is invulnerable. He tells me so 
  every morning.”
  Connelly chuckled and headed for his Cicada. I pulled a laser rifl e from a 
  bulkhead arms rack and started down the ramp.
  Light blazed outside, a white-hot glare. Ptolemy A hung low above the eastern 
  horizon in a violet sky, tiny, intolerably brilliant. Ptolemy B scintillated in the 
  northwestern sky, a pinpoint only, but searingly bright nonetheless. And between 
  them, to the north, Champollion spanned almost eight degrees of sky, its edges 
  bright-lit by the two suns, the rest glowing a sullen and angry deep red.
  A hot breeze smelled of rotten eggs. A low-lying cloud in the distance was 
  tinted yellow, sulfur dust on the wind. The DropShip had touched down on solid 
  rock, luckily, but patches of yellow ground nearby had been set alight. Pools 
  ARTIST: BRENT EVANS
  PUBLICATION: TECHNICAL READOUT: 3050 UPGRADE
  YEAR: 2007
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  51
  
  S T A R F I R E
  deep-throated rumble, those massive doors began to part.
  “How long has it been?” I asked Beth, feeling a little awed. It was a 
  lot cooler inside. The temperature on the surface had climbed in the 
  past hours to over thirty-fi ve Celsius and the ground was hotter than 
  that. Inside, it must have been twenty or less.
  “At least two and a half centuries,” she said. “Maybe three and a 
  half. The records aren’t exactly coherent.”
  I nodded as I switched on a hand lamp. We’d lost so damned 
  much in a thousand years of war. Records were fragmentary. Whole 
  chapters of Humankind’s history were simply missing.
  And that, of course, was the main reason Katrina Steiner had sent 
  the Roughriders on this op in the fi rst place. The Star League’s military 
  technology had been almost mythic in its scope and power. Their 
  terraforming prowess had transformed barren rocks like Rosetta 
  into places where humans could live. Their lightweight fusion power 
  plants, their starfaring JumpShips, their HPG communications 
  stations ... we couldn’t hope to even begin to match their technology 
  today. In a sense, we were primitives scrabbling in the garbage 
  heaps left by long-vanished titans, fi ghting over scraps.
  To either side, in alcoves like those on board the DropShip, stood 
  BattleMechs, silent sentinels in the darkness. Some of those towering forms were 
  familiar—a Griffi  n ... the immortal Shadow Hawk ... a couple of Rifl emen. All Star 
  League models, I noticed, 27th century or so, not the GRF-1N and SHD-2H I was 
  familiar with.
  But we weren’t just after ’Mechs. There was something else listed on those old 
  records. Colonel Hansen had given me special and specifi c orders ...
  “Over here,” I told her, turning left.
  “Where are you? ...” I heard her boots snap on the bare, ferrocrete fl ooring 
  behind me. “Damn it, Chris, what are you doing?”
  “Following orders,” I told her. “Looking for HHM-Starfi res, Mark 2500.”
  “I saw that entry on the depot contents list,” she said. “What the hell is it?”
  The list had included a layout of the SLDF facility, and I knew where the crates 
  would be. I turned a fi nal corner, casting my light about, and then saw the boxes, 
  dull aluminum-hued crates each stenciled with “M-2500” in the archaic Star 
  League alphanumerics.
  “This,” I told her, shining my light up and up and up the stacks of ammo crates. 
  My God! They were here! And intact! “The lost Holy Grail of military technology.”
  “Which is? . . .” She sounded impatient, but I was having trouble speaking.
  “HHM,” I told her, feeling just a little giddy. “Head-hunter missiles! ...”
  Those crates were going to drekking change the course of modern warfare.
  ▲▼▲
  Hell, we couldn’t even build a decent heat-seeking missile nowadays, and 
  those things were simple-minded things, almost low-tech. A head hunter was far 
  more sensitive and discriminating, with—as I’d heard the stories—sensors that 
  could actually pick up the electromagnetic fl ux of control signals fl owing out 
  from a BattleMech’s command center, and the return fl ow of sensory data and 
  kinesthetic feedback. A head hunter did just that ... home in on a BattleMech’s 
  head, no matter whether it was high up on top of the machine, as with the Atlas, 
  or tucked in between the hip actuators, as with the Cicada.
  And the head of any BattleMech tended to be a small target, but a terribly 
  vulnerable one. A few direct hits and the ’Mech was dead, its pilot killed or 
  incapacitated, its control net wrecked, its guidance and weapons systems destroyed. 
  God, just think what a few ’Mech lances armed with head hunters could do in a 
  typical ’Mech engagement! No wonder the Steiners were hot to fi nd this cache.
  Especially before anyone else found that cryptic entry in the Carlyle memcore 
  and came looking for it, like us.
  According to the records, the Rosetta depot held several thousand M-2500 
  HHMs. That in itself was pretty good; the real payoff , though, would come when 
  Katrina Steiner’s technical experts reverse-engineered one of those tracking 
  systems, and we learned how to build the things ourselves.
  I laid my hand on one of the crates, caressing it. “Let’s call in your people,” I told 
  Beth. “We should start loading these on board the DropShip at once.”
  “What about the BattleMechs?” she said. “Or the computer center?”
  “The ’Mechs can wait,” I said. But she had a point about the facility’s computer. 
  could have kept the data secret, allowing House Steiner to survive 
  while everybody else fell. In a war for survival, of course things like 
  growing food and healing people had military importance. Carlyle 
  was a humanitarian idealist, sure, but I swear the jerk had zero 
  strategic sense.
  Steiner’s people became even more pissed when one of their 
  research librarians discovered a list on that memcore describing the 
  locations of Star League military depots. In the 241 years since the 
  fall of the Star League, most of those depots had been plundered 
  by one of the Successor State houses or another ... but a few might 
  have survived. Katrina Steiner had talked to Colonel Hansen about 
  securing as many of those depots as possible, before anyone else 
  fi gured out what those coded depot lists meant.
  High on the list was Depot SLD 601 in the Rosetta system. There 
  were no records that it had ever been found and emptied through 
  the last few centuries of savage war sweeping across the stars. When 
  the Periphery had fallen away from the Inner Sphere, the world and 
  its secret cache had been forgotten.
  And now Beth was telling me that her team had found it.
  A Pack Rat LRPV took us over to the site, buzzing across a fl at and 
  arid sulfur plain. The dig zone had already been marked off  with blue tape just 
  in front of a black-rock cliff ; mottled yellow, red, and gray rock and sand lapped 
  up against the cliff , pierced here and there by small structures like corroded 
  ventilators or sensor masts protruding above the surface. A dozen men with laser 
  cutters were already at work, wearing masks against the boiling clouds of toxic 
  compounds fuming off  the yellow rock.
  Beth pointed. “We think the depot is built back into that mountainside. There 
  was an entrance here ... but a few hundred years ago a fl ow of molten sulfur 
  covered it over. That’s why no one ever found the place!”
  “Molten sulfur? What would cause that?”
  She shrugged. “Volcanism, maybe. This is a highly volcanic region. Lots of hot 
  springs and vents.”
  There would be, I guessed, on a world like this one, constantly squeezed and 
  tugged in the gravitational embrace of that huge, red-glowing eye hanging above 
  the northern horizon. The terrain at the objective was very much the picture of a 
  yellow sea lapping against black cliff s ... the sea frozen hard, and broken in places 
  along the cliff s into house-sized blocks of solid sulfur.
  But the important thing was that the Star League weapons depot we’d been 
  sent to fi nd had been partly buried by the sulfur unknown centuries ago, and its 
  very existence, apparently, forgotten by everyone, even by the locals.
  Which made it fair game for us.
  ▲▼▲
  Some forty hours later, we’d reached the front door.
  Kirkpatrick’s Atlas made the work ... not easy, exactly, but doable. Under Beth’s 
  guidance, he would maneuver the big machine into position, then fi re bursts 
  from his medium lasers, cutting grooves in the hard sulfur. The workers would 
  then use pry bars and levers to crack one- and two-ton blocks of the yellow rock 
  loose; Kirkpatrick would then reach in with his BattleMech’s huge, articulated 
  hands, pick up the soft and steaming blocks, and toss them aside.
  The air stank of rotten eggs. Sulfur itself is odorless, but each laser burst 
  vaporized sulfur and split water molecules in the air into hydrogen and oxygen, 
  much of which recombined with gaseous sulfur into hydrogen sulfi de. All of 
  us had to wear masks in the work area. Besides the hydrogen sulfi de, clouds of 
  poisonous sulfur dioxide and corrosive sulfuric acid made the work dangerous as 
  well as intensely unpleasant. With no night to interrupt, we’d worked in six-hour 
  shifts, with Saunders and Fuselli relieving Connelly and Kirkpatrick.
  But now we had a long fl ight of steps cut into the rock leading down toward 
  the base of the cliff , and we could see the massive, fi fteen-meter-high steel doors 
  of Depot SLD 601. Burned into solid rock just above the door was the Star League 
  emblem.
  The Carlyle memory core had included access code groups. The door, obviously, 
  was pressure-sealed and locked, but all we needed to do was transmit a set of 
  access codes through a small transmitter on a particular frequency. I pressed the 
  send key and stepped back. With a dry hiss of equalizing pressure, followed by a 
  e 
  e 
  e 
  o 
  r 
  e 
  e 
  d 
  t 
  t 
  e 
  e 
  GRAYSON CARLYLE
  ARTIST: JEFF LAUBENSTEIN
  PUBLICATION: GRAY DEATH LEGION
  YEAR: 1986
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  52
  
  S T A R F I R E
  ARTIST: DOUG CHAFFEE
  PUBLICATION: WARRIOR TRILOGY OMNIBUS
  YEAR: 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  53
  
  S T A R F I R E
  ARTIST: JOHN PAUL LONA
  PUBLICATION: ROYALTY AND ROGUES
  YEAR: 1994
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  54
  
  S T A R F I R E
  BattleMech shimmered—both with waste heat dumped from the huge machine’s 
  heat sinks, and rising from the scorching sulfur desert. The ground underfoot 
  was trembling with another long, drawn-out tidal quake, strong enough that I 
  dropped down off  the boulder to keep from being thrown.
  “Skipper . . .” Kirkpatrick began. He sounded almost contrite.
  “Hold your position,” I repeated. “Mike will bring them in close.”
  Five kilometers is two and a half minutes for a Cicada striding all-out. It took longer, 
  fi ve minutes, and it was the longest fi ve minutes of my career. Mike’s machine had 
  been badly savaged and was weaving a bit as he guided it toward our position.
  But at last the racing Pegasus hovercraft were howling across the desert fl at 
  within eff ective range of our medium lasers, and I gave the order to fi re.
  Both Pattons opened up from the fl anks with their main weapons, the slam-
  slam-slam of their heavy autocannon echoing off  the cliff  face behind us. The 
  line of ground troopers in front of the dig opened up with shoulder-fi red missiles 
  and laser weaponry. Explosions gouted fl ame and smoke from the sulfur fl ats, as 
  the dust cloud made the slash and burn of laser beams sharply and brilliantly 
  visible.
  Hitting the fast-moving hovercraft was like shooting craps. Lasers 
  had a fair chance of hitting one if the gunner had a clear 
  shot past the dust clouds, a trick tougher than you 
  might think, and man-portable laser weaponry 
  just didn’t have the megajoules to burn through 
  even a hovercraft’s armored sheath. Tagging one 
  with missiles or autocannon rounds was almost 
  pure happenstance; by the time an aimed round 
  reached one, the target was gone.
  Even so, we were scoring hits. One of the 
  Pattons slammed three rounds, one after the 
  other, into a Pegasus as it veered directly toward 
  the tank; armor peeled back from the ’craft’s 
  skirts and side, and suddenly the machine 
  fl ipped onto its side, striking the ground and 
  tumbling wildly through exploding dust and 
  fl ying metallic debris to end up on its back, black 
  smoke billowing from its engine compartment. 
  And if man-portable lasers weren’t up to the high-
  energy requirements of armored combat, Kirkpatrick’s 
  Atlas was. His ’Mech mounted four medium lasers, 
  two pointed ahead, two aft, and he was working the 
  forward lasers as fl at-out fast as he could cycle them, 
  the torso of his machine pivoting slightly left and 
  right as he took aim and fi red again and again and 
  again. One of the hovercraft abruptly broke off  the 
  assault and limped off  toward the south, trailing 
  smoke.
  Under the covering fi re of the Atlas, Connelly 
  guided his Cicada in close to the dig, slewing to 
  an unsteady halt, then fl exing the knee joints 
  sharply like some awkward, long-legged bird, 
  lowering the angular torso and front-mounted 
  cockpit to within a couple of meters of the 
  ground.
  As the torso dropped toward the ground, 
  I could see a gaping burn-through at the side and lower front of the cockpit, a 
  hole big enough for a man to crawl through. Clambering up the hand-holds on 
  the side of the ’Mech’s folded legs, I reached the hole and pushed up inside the 
  cockpit. Mike Connelly was slumped against his seat restraints, blood streaming 
  from his left arm and side.
  “Medic!” I called over my comm. “MechWarrior hurt, Cicada!” I began working to 
  unfasten him from the restraints, removing the neurohelmet and gently pulling 
  off  the cooling vest. Several SRMs had impacted at the same point just below the 
  head, and I wondered if the bastards were mounting head hunters. The hits had 
  weakened the armor, then blasted through, spraying the pilot with shrapnel. He 
  was still alive, but we needed to get him back to the Ramblin’ Wreck’s sickbay fast. 
  He was unconscious as the medics arrived to lower him from the machine; I don’t 
  know how he stayed conscious long enough to pilot his wounded Cicada back 
  There might be another memory core here, like the one Carlyle had found. 
  Possibly with diff erent data sets. “As for the computer—”
  “Captain Kyle!” The voice cutting in over my command circuit was Connelly’s. 
  “We have incoming!”
  “What? Ground or air?”
  There was the slightest of hesitations.  “Pegasus hovercraft, Captain. Six ... 
  correction ... eight of them. Coming in fast from the southeast!”
  Armed and armored hovercraft—ground and air, in a sense. Fast, maneuverable 
  little bastards, each mounting a couple of SRM pods and a medium laser, with 
  twice the speed of an Atlas, more speed even than the Cicada.
  “On my way.”
  I was running full-out when I hit the cut-sulfur block steps, racing up out of the 
  cool interior of the depot into searing heat. The temperature had been climbing 
  steadily since our arrival. That had been unexpected; the Met people on the 
  Ramblin’ Wreck were laying the blame on Champollion, which had steadily been 
  growing brighter, its sullen red atmosphere more turbulent almost hour by hour.
  “Let me go get ’em, Skipper,” Kirkpatrick called. His Atlas was 
  standing above the entrance, its head turned to face the southeast. I 
  could see plumes of sulfur dust rising in that direction, 
  but 
  couldn’t see Connelly’s Cicada.
  “What do you see, Julian?”
  “The sons-of-bitches are runnin’ rings around 
  Connie! Let me go squash ’em!”
  “Negative,” I told him. If those hovercraft 
  could outpace Mike’s Cicada, they would leave 
  Kirkpatrick’s Atlas in the dust, and chasing them 
  would be worse than futile. “We’ll bring them to 
  us.”
  I started snapping orders over my comm. With 
  a shrill whine, our two Patton heavy tanks 
  began deploying across the desert, splitting 
  up to provide enfi lade fi re. Tanks weren’t much 
  good against ’Mechs, but we hadn’t expected 
  a heavy BattleMech presence on Rosetta. They 
  would have been useful if we encountered hostile 
  local militia, however, and their fi repower might deter 
  a head-on run by those hovercraft out there.
  “Connelly!” I called. “Fall back on the depot! You can’t do 
  any good out there!”
  “Roger that!” I heard in my earpiece. “Here I come!”
  I clambered up on top of a tumble-down block of red-
  brown sulfur for a better view, pulling out my electronic 
  binoculars and zeroing in on the running fi ght. 
  Individually, those Pegasus ’craft—Pegasi?—didn’t 
  stand a chance. Each massed about thirty-fi ve tons, and 
  a direct hit or two would cripple it, smashing through 
  armor to trash the vulnerable internal systems.
  But eight working together were a diff erent story, 
  like a pack of Skye sabrewets bringing down a bull 
  trino. They wove in and out at high speed, the 
  blast from their fans throwing up clouds of 
  dust that both concealed their vehicles and 
  attenuated the laser beams directed at them 
  from Mike’s Cicada. As I watched, one slewed around in front of Mike’s machine, 
  skittering sideways as it loosed a swarm of SRMs at damned near point-blank 
  range. I could see the fl ashes as warheads detonated, smashing through armor; 
  he’d taken at least a half dozen hits squarely to the boxy front of his ’Mech, just 
  beneath his cockpit, and I wondered if he was okay.
  “Mike! Mike, do you copy?”
  I got back a hiss of static, then silence. The channel was dead. The ’Mech was 
  still moving, though, emerging from the dust cloud, stepping past the swarm of 
  midgets at its feet and continuing to stride toward the dig.
  Kirkpatrick’s Atlas, suddenly, took a half dozen strides forward.
  “Hold your position, damn it!” I didn’t want him getting out in the middle of that 
  whirlwind of Pegasus missile-fi re.
  The Atlas pulled to a halt, still facing southeast. The air around the huge 
  and laser weaponry. Explosions gouted fl ame an
  the dust cloud made the slash and burn of las
  g hovercraft w
  hance of hittin
  ast the dust c
  ht think, and 
  didn’t have t
  en a hovercraf
  th missiles or 
  re happenstan
  ched one, the
  Even so, we 
  attons slamm
  ther, into a Peg
  he tank; armo
  kirts and sid
  flipped onto it
  umbling wild
  ying metallic d
  ke billowing 
  f man-portable
  requirements 
  was. His ’Mech
  ointed ahead, 
  rd lasers as fl a
  orso of his m
  t as he took ai
  n. One of the 
  ault and limpe
  oke.
  Under the cov
  ided his Cicad
  unsteady ha
  harply like som
  owering the a
  cockpit to wi
  ground.
  As the tors
  ame on Champollion, which had steadily been
  mosphere more turbulent almost hour by hour.
  r,” Kirkpatrick 
  head turned t
  ing in that dire
  n’ rings around
  se hovercraft 
  y would leave
   chasing them
  l bring them t
  my comm. Wit
  heavy tanks 
  ert, splitting 
  weren’t much 
  dn’t expected
  n Rosetta. The
  countered hos
  repower might
  t out there.
  on the depot!
  iece. “Here I co
  ble-down bloc
  ling out my ele
  the running
  raft—Pegasi?—
  ut thirty-fi ve to
  t, smashing th
  ernal systems.
  re a diff erent s
  ging down a b
  igh speed, th
  up clouds of 
  vehicles and
  cted at them
  visible.
  Hitting the fast-moving
  had a fair ch
  shot p
  migh
  just 
  eve
  wit
  pur
  reac
  Pa
  ot
  th
  s
  fl 
  tu
  fl y
  smo
  And if 
  energy 
  Atlas w
  two po
  forwa
  the to
  right
  again
  assa
  smo
  U
  gui
  an 
  sh
  lo
  called. His Atlas was 
  to face the southeast. I 
  ection,
  but 
   
  e 
  m 
  to 
  th
  ey
  stile 
  t deter
  ! You can’t do
  ome!”
  ck of red-
  ectronic 
  g fi ght. 
  —didn’t 
  ons, and 
  hrough
  story, 
  bull 
  e
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: CLASSIC BATTLETECH: 
  THE GAME OF ARMORED COMBAT
  YEAR: 2002
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  55
  
  S T A R F I R E
  is provide feedback through the pilot’s inner ear. We sense our ’Mech’s balance 
  that way, letting us run, twist, dodge, lunge, and fi ght without tripping over our 
  own size ten-thousand extra-wide feet.
  The Cicada was already warmed up—hell, the temperature gauge was showing 
  me on the verge of an overload already—and ready to go. I input my personal 
  code to unlock the controls, then stood up.
  I tap-screened the damage-control report. The Cicada was hurt, but 
  how badly? Line schematics came up, highlighting damaged areas in 
  red. The center-torso Magna 200 laser was off -line, and four of my 
  ten heat sinks were down. The Hartford J15 B comm was junk. Life 
  support was minimal, and my personal coolant system, as I’d already 
  ascertained, was useless.
  But I could still stand, still move, and when 
  I leaned into it and throttled up the power 
  plant, I was able to lurch into an unsteady 
  run.
  For short stretches, I could actually 
  match a Pegasus hovercraft going fl at-
  out, topping out at better than 125 kph, 
  but only a fool would hold that speed 
  for long, especially with damage to the 
  ’Mech’s internal coolant system. I kept 
  it down to a ground-eating eighty-
  fi ve, pounding across the 
  sulfur fl ats toward 
  the 
  billowing 
  c l o u d s 
  ahead.
  I 
  was 
  f e e l i n g 
  p r e t t y 
  unsteady 
  on my feet 
  in any case, 
  and running 
  at full speed would 
  have 
  been 
  worse. The 
  ground 
  was trembling 
  constantly now, one long, drawn-out quake that was 
  amplifi ed through the Cicada’s long legs.
  I slowed as I approached Kirkpatrick’s position, 
  not wanting to end up trapped like him. Through 
  the helmet, I could sense the surface yielding 
  slightly with each step, but it did seem to be 
  holding.  With each step I took, though, my entire 
  forty tons was concentrated on the relatively 
  small print of just one of my three-fl anged feet, 
  smaller by far than the enormous footprint 
  of an Atlas.
  Literally, I had to be very careful 
  of where I stepped.
  I don’t think the Pegasi saw 
  me coming, so intent were 
  they on the trapped 
  Atlas, 
  fi ring 
  into it from 
  just 
  thirty 
  m e t e r s 
  a w a y ; 
  Kirkpatrick’s 
  left arm was junked, 
  hanging 
  uselessly 
  from the exposed ball joint, and the grinning demon’s head had taken several 
  direct hits.
  I came in with both of my lasers fi ring, the beams fl ashing as they sliced 
  through clouds of sulfur dust. That dust was a problem for energy weapons, since 
  it attenuated the beams, but when I got up close like this, they still packed plenty 
  to our lines.
  And that’s when Kirkpatrick went nuts.
  He’d been maintaining a steady covering fi re with lasers, LRMs and autocannon, 
  holding the six remaining hovercraft at bay. When he heard my call for the medics, 
  though, he bellowed something unintelligible over the combat frequency, and 
  charged, a lumbering berserker wading into the melee. By the time I 
  was on the ground again, he was a kilometer off , chasing the retreating 
  hovercraft with great, ponderous strides.
  “Kirkpatrick!” I yelled. “Get your ass back here!”
  “Negatory, Skipper!” was his reply. “I’m gonna drekkin’ fi nish this! 
  ...”
  The thing was, those hovercraft could easily have 
  outdistanced him. Instead, they were staying just 
  beyond his reach, weaving and evading as 
  they led him farther and farther out onto that 
  shimmering sulfur plain.
  I was just trying to fi gure out what their 
  strategy was, what the hell they were up to, 
  when Kirkpatrick’s Atlas broke through the 
  surface.
  From a distance, it looked as though 
  he’d taken a step and suddenly 
  dropped 
  into 
  the 
  ground, 
  leaving only his torso, arms, 
  and 
  that 
  ridiculously 
  grinning ogre’s head 
  free.
  “God!” Beth 
  said at my 
  side. “What 
  happened 
  to him?”
  “The sulfur is melting,” I told her. I could feel the feat rising 
  from the yellow rock around me. “Melting from underneath. 
  He just broke through, like a guy trying to walk on thin 
  ice!”
  It was an uncomfortable metaphor when the 
  air was this blazing hot, but it seemed to describe 
  Kirkpatrick’s plight perfectly. Through my binoculars, 
  I could see him waist-deep in liquid yellow rock; the 
  stuff  becomes red at higher temperatures, say, around 200 
  Celsius. This stuff  was still yellow, and from here it looked like 
  the consistency of thick honey.
  Kirkpatrick’s Atlas was thoroughly trapped.
  The hovercraft were circling the bogged-down 
  ’Mech, careful to stay out of the arcs of 
  Kirkpatrick’s autocannon and SRMs. 
  As they circled, they poured volley 
  after 
  volley 
  into 
  his 
  battered 
  torso, 
  pummeling 
  Kirkpatrick 
  with medium lasers and short-
  ranged missiles. Impact after 
  impact rocked his ’Mech, and I 
  saw smoking fragments of armor 
  spinning off  through the air.
  I could see only one way to save the 
  big 
  idiot. 
  Turning, I sprinted for Connelly’s abandoned Cicada, 
  scrambled up the handholds, and squeezed into the cockpit.
  The coolant vest had been sliced open by shrapnel. The hell with it; I’d cook if 
  I had to. The neurohelmet settled down over my head and shoulders, and I felt 
  the link switch on. Lots of people have the notion that MechWarriors pilot their 
  BattleMech by guiding it through the helmet. What a neurohelmet actually does 
  ARTIST: BRENT EVANS
  PUBLICATION: TECHNICAL READOUT: 3050 UPGRADE
  YEAR: 2007
  code to unlock the controls, then stood up.
  was h
  ged a
  four
  as ju
  s I’d 
  and
  the 
  n un
  ld a
  goin
  an 1
  that
  mage
  stem
  ting 
  acro
  ats 
  bi
  l o
  ahea
  I 
  f e e
  p r
  uns
  on m
  in an
  and r
  ave 
  tre
  ke th
  k’s p
  m. T
  ce y
  seem
  h, my
  e re
  ange
  us fo
  very 
  Pega
  inten
  he t
  to it
  just 
  m e
  a w
  Kirkpa
  l ft
  j
  , a lumbering berserker wading into the melee. By the time I 
  he 
  aft w
  atri
  tor
  hin
  nce
  his
  him
  ring
  just
  wa
  rkp
  a d
  en a
  d 
  i
  onl
  hat 
  g o
  ” B
  my
  hat 
  ed 
  sulfu
  e ye
  bro
  s a
  this
  ck’s
  see 
  com
  This
  iste
  atric
  hove
  care
  ck’s
  cir
  olle
  pu
  ediu
  m
  roc
  okin
  g off  through the air.
  d
  l
  t
  th
  bi
  idi t
  YEAR: 2007
  I tap-screened the damage-control report. The Cicada w
  how badly? Line schematics came up, highlighting damag
  red. The center-torso Magna 200 laser was off -line, and 
  ten heat sinks were down. The Hartford J15 B comm wa
  support was minimal, and my personal coolant system, as
  ascertained, was useless.
  But I could still stand, still move, 
  I leaned into it and throttled up 
  plant, I was able to lurch into a
  run.
  For short stretches, I cou
  match a Pegasus hovercraft 
  out, topping out at better tha
  but only a fool would hold 
  for long, especially with dam
  y
  ’Mech’s internal coolant sys
  it down to a ground-eat
  fi ve, pounding 
  sulfur fl 
  the 
  c
  a
  f
  o
  a
  at full speed would
  ha
  worse. The 
  ground
  was 
  constantly now, one long, drawn-out quak
  amplifi ed through the Cicada’s long legs.
  I slowed as I approached Kirkpatrick
  not wanting to end up trapped like him
  the helmet, I could sense the surfac
  slightly with each step, but it did s
  holding.  With each step I took, though
  forty tons was concentrated on the
  small print of just one of my three-fl a
  smaller by far than the enormou
  of an Atlas.
  Literally, I had to be v
  of where I stepped.
  I don’t think the 
  me coming, so i
  they on th
  Atlas, 
  int
  j
  Kir
  ground again, he was a kilometer off , chasing the retreating 
  with great, ponderous strides.
  ick!” I yelled. “Get your ass back here!”
  y, Skipper!” was his reply. “I’m gonna drekkin’ fi nish this! 
  g was, those hovercraft could easily have 
  ed him. Instead, they were staying just
  s reach, weaving and evading as 
  m farther and farther out onto that 
  g sulfur plain.
  t trying to fi gure out what their 
  s, what the hell they were up to, 
  atrick’s Atlas broke through the 
  distance, it looked as though 
  a step and suddenly 
  into 
  the 
  ground, 
  ly his torso, arms,
  ridiculously 
  ogre’s head 
  eth
  y
  ur is melting,” I told her. I could feel the feat rising 
  llow rock around me. “Melting from underneath. 
  oke through, like a guy trying to walk on thin 
  n uncomfortable metaphor when the 
  s blazing hot, but it seemed to describe 
  s plight perfectly. Through my binoculars,
  him waist-deep in liquid yellow rock; the
  mes red at higher temperatures, say, around 200 
  s stuff  was still yellow, and from here it looked like 
  ency of thick honey.
  ck’s Atlas was thoroughly trapped.
  ercraft were circling the bogged-down 
  eful to stay out of the arcs of 
  s autocannon and SRMs. 
  rcled, they poured volley
  ey 
  into 
  his 
  battered
  mmeling 
  Kirkpatrick 
  um lasers and short-
  issiles. Impact after
  ked his ’Mech, and I
  ng fragments of armor
  ff through the air.
  ARTIST: BRENT EVANS
  PUBLICATION: TECHNICAL READOUT: 3050 UPGRADE
  YEAR: 2007
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  56
  
  S T A R F I R E
  gravitational squeeze on the gas giant, stirring up its core and causing it to 
  generate more internal heat than usual ... a lot more heat. When Ptolemy B made 
  its closest passage to Champollion, once every 150 years, the side of Rosetta 
  facing Champollion was briefl y heated by the giant planet to over 120 degrees 
  Celsius, well above the boiling point of water.
  And just above the melting point of sulfur.
  We were gone long before things got that hot, but it turned out that the 
  melting was helped along by the tidal eff ects on Rosetta itself. It was actually 
  hotter underground than on the surface. We fi gured out later that those sulfur 
  plains were already molten under a thin crust of hot-but-still-solid sulfur. When 
  Kirkpatrick took his 100-ton Atlas out onto that plain, he’d inevitably reached a 
  point where the crust could not support his assault ’Mech’s mass, and he’d broken 
  through—with fatal results.
  No wonder the people living on Rosetta had all of their domed communities on 
  the side of the moon facing away from Champollion. Back in 2878, or during the 
  close passage before that, in 2728, the unexpected fl ood of molten sulfur would 
  have buried the SLDF depot, along with any local communities that had been 
  on that hemisphere of the planet. The records of that fl ood must be common 
  knowledge to native Rosettans—but had long since been lost and forgotten by 
  everyone else.
  Colonel Hansen even wondered if the Rosettans had used that knowledge 
  deliberately, luring Kirkpatrick out onto that plain, knowing that if they could trap 
  or destroy the Atlas there, they’d have easy pickings with the rest of us. He told 
  me it wasn’t my fault ... that I’d probably saved the entire force with my one-’Mech 
  charge into that dust cloud.
  Maybe.
  And maybe the commander of that hovercraft lance didn’t know what he was 
  doing either.
  Me, I still wonder if the damage to Connelly’s Cicada had been caused by a 
  salvo of head hunters. We may never know for sure, but it was a damned lucky 
  shot, if not.
  It’s just possible that the lokies had a small supply of the things saved from 
  before the last round of sulfur fl oods. It would be one way for an almost-
  nonexistent local military to fi ght off  marauders, pirates, and other unpleasant 
  characters out in the anarchy of the Periphery.
  I do wonder if the lokies are going to try to dig out that depot, once Ptolemy 
  B recedes again and Champollion settles down. The doorway into the SLD Depot 
  was completely submerged again, once the sulfur turned liquid, but they might 
  be able to clear it out, chisel those legendary Star League ’Mechs free of their 
  yellow rock crypts, and uncover thousands of Starfi re head-hunter missiles.
  Or will someone else show up to grab that prize, someone else clued in by 
  Carlyle’s idealistic generosity?
  Actually, though, I doubt anyone is going to have time for archaeological 
  pursuits during the next few years—even ones with as critical a military application 
  as this. On the long voyage back to Tharkad, we received a message relayed 
  through the HPG station at Alekseyevka. While we’d been on our way to Rosetta, 
  Melissa Steiner had married Hanse Davion in a gala ceremony on far-distant old 
  Earth. “My dear ... I give you the Capellan Confederation,” had been Davion’s words 
  to his new bride, launching what would undoubtedly become known as the 
  Fourth Succession War. The signatories of the Concord of Kapteyn—the Draconis 
  Combine, House Liao’s Capellan Confederation, and House Marik—would all be 
  committed against the Steiner-Davion alliance, the Federated Commonwealth. 
  Most of the fi ghting will be in toward the core of the Inner Sphere, in places more 
  strategically important than Rosetta.
  No one will have time or ships or BattleMechs to spare for the far-off  Periphery. 
  Maybe we’ll have a chance to go back some day.
  Or maybe the SLDF depot will be forgotten for another century and a half.
  But I want to go back. I owe it to a brave MechWarrior named Julian 
  Kirkpatrick.
  Even if he was an idiot.
  of heat. I slammed three bursts into one of the circling ’craft before he knew I was 
  there, carving through one of the SRM launchers mounted above his aft deck.
  Then a second hovercraft skewed past the Atlas and slammed hard into my 
  right leg; the impact jolted me and I took a step back, wondering if I was going to 
  fall. I didn’t, quite, and the hovercraft rebounded from my leg and drifted a bit too 
  close to the trapped Atlas. Kirkpatrick twisted his machine’s torso and brought his 
  immense right arm down in front of the racing hovercraft. The resulting collision 
  ripped the vehicle’s hover skirt wide open, causing it to drop and tumble across the 
  ground, smashing it like a toy. At the same moment, a third hovercraft managed 
  to brake to a halt thirty meters in front of me and avoid a similar collision ... and as 
  it slowed I opened up with both lasers, volleying bolt after bolt into the machine’s 
  forward armor, skirts, and deck, blowing open the cockpit and shredding the high 
  stabilizer fi n aft.
  Seconds later, the stricken vehicle exploded, fl ame pouring from engine hatch 
  and cockpit. The four surviving Pegasus hovercraft broke and ran, then, racing 
  away across the desert toward the south, raising rooster-tails of yellow dust 
  behind them.
  “Kirkpatrick!” I yelled over the comm ... then remembered my comm suite was 
  dead. I wondered how the hell I was going to get Kirkpatrick out of there. With 
  molten sulfur encasing his legs, he couldn’t get free—he was as trapped as an 
  elephant in a tar pit. And the heat inside his ’Mech must be soaring.
  He leaned his ’Mech forward, trying to drag himself free one-handed, but 
  actually managed to sink a bit deeper into the yellow liquid. I stepped back a few 
  meters, unable to help with no arms, willing him to eject ...
  The Atlas exploded when the heat overload detonated the on-board ammo, 
  the blast opening a gaping crater in the solid sulfur crust that very nearly caught 
  me as well. Bits of hot metal pinged and banged off  my Cicada, and the blast wave 
  nearly knocked me down.
  Somehow, somehow, I kept my feet as I searched for some sign that the big 
  idiot had punched out in time.
  He hadn’t.
  ▲▼▲
  It was a long walk back to the dig. I had to take it slow because my Cicada 
  was threatening to overload at any second. The outside temperature was up to 
  fi fty degrees Celsius; the ground temperature was closer to eighty ... and getting 
  hotter with every step back. The ’Mech’s internal temperature was a sweltering 
  forty-seven, and my uniform was drenched with sweat.
  They were evacuating the dig when I got back. The subsurface sulfur was 
  melting quickly, fl owing in a sluggish mass to fi ll in the carefully cut steps and force 
  its way inside the open depot doors. Donnellson, my 2IC and the commander of 
  one of the Pattons, had already ordered the tanks, the troops, and the diggers to 
  fall back toward the DropShip. I saw her wave at me from the tank’s commander’s 
  hatch as I approached, pointing at the fl ooding depot and gesturing as if to say 
  “What the hell do we do?”
  There was nothing for it but to head back to the ship and boost off -planet.
  I felt empty, a bit lost. I suppose it was to be expected. Personally, I couldn’t 
  stand Julian Kirkpatrick ... but he was one of mine, know what I mean?
  A few hours later, we were boosting for orbit, then settling in for the long haul 
  out to the system jump point. The lokies didn’t try to stop us. I sat down to write 
  my after-action report. How the hell was I going to tell the Colonel that we’d had 
  everything we’d gone to Rosetta to fi nd ... and come up empty?
  Worse, we’d lost a good MechWarrior, and his irreplaceable machine.
  It was the planet ... that, and going in without a clear picture of what was 
  waiting for us. We—Beth and I—had thought we understood the interaction 
  of the system’s elements—Ptolemy A and B, and Champollion and its 
  misbegotten moon.
  That was the unexpected, though, the orbital interactions. Even at its closest, 
  Ptolemy B couldn’t add much heat to Rosetta, but what it did do was put the 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  57
  
   
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: CLASSIC BATTLETECH: A GAME OF ARMORED COMBAT
  YEAR: 2002
  YEAR: 2002
  YEAR: 2002
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  58
  
   
  ARTIST: TOM BAXA
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH FOURTH EDITION
  YEAR: 1996
  YEAR: 1996
  YEAR: 1996
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  59
  
  T H E  A T L A S  B A T T L E M E C H
  CLOCKWISE FROM TOP RIGHT:
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH TRADING CARD GAME
  ARTIST: DOUG CHAFFEE
  PUBLICATION: TECHNICAL READOUT: 3025, REVISED
  YEAR: 2002
  ARTIST: KEVIN LONG
  PUBLICATION: THE FALL OF TERRA
  YEAR: 1996
  ARTIST: MIKE JACKSON
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH FOURTH EDITION
  YEAR: 1996
  ARTIST: JEFF LAUBENSTEIN
  PUBLICATION: FIRST STRIKE
  YEAR: 1996
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  60
  
  T H E  A T L A S  B A T T L E M E C H
  T H E  A T L A S  B A T T L E M E C H
  ARTIST: DOUG SHULER
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH CAMO SPECS
  YEAR: 1988
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: CLASSIC BATTLETECH:
  A GAME OF ARMORED COMBAT
  YEAR: 2002
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH REINFORCEMENTS
  YEAR: 1987
  ARTIST: DOUG SSHHULER
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH CAMO SPECS
  ARTIST DOUG SHHULER
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  61
  
  T H U S  I T  S H A L L  S T A N D
  ARTIST: LES DORSCHEID
  PUBLICATION: THE BATTLE OF COVENTRY
  YEAR: 1996
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  62
  
  T H U S  I T  S H A L L  S T A N D
  “Ten days ago you were Jade Falcon,” Samson said. “Today you are a Dragoon. 
  You wore the bondcord, you swore the oath. Are you reconsidering?”
  “Neg.”
  “Then stop acting like a bloody Falcon, Barron. You’re a Dragoon. We don’t 
  bother with zellbrigen. It’s too wasteful.”
  “Wasteful?” Barron chuff ed. “You are calling the distillation of two hundred years 
  of Clan combat wasteful? An honorable duel between two warriors. Wasteful?”
  “Aff ,” Samson said. “It wastes the most precious commodity in the universe, 
  Barron.” A triple-toned beep snapped from the communicator on his web gear. 
  He pulled it free and read the short text displayed.
  “What ‘precious commodity,’ Lieutenant?”
  Samson clipped the communicator back on his belt and signaled the other 
  jocks to mount up. “The only thing they’re not making more of,” he said.
  “Time.”
  THE DALES
  COVENTRY
  LYRAN ALLIANCE
  15 APRIL 3058
  Shapes moved between the trees in the pre-morning twilight. The ’Mech’s 
  sensors drank information, broadcasting nothing but soaking up every erg of 
  radiation striking their inputs. Even the ’Mech’s cockpit lights were off . The pilot 
  sat pensively in his command couch, watching. The shapes revealed themselves. 
  “Elementals,” he murmured, not loud enough to trigger his microphone. A 
  larger shape moved in the background. “Shadow Cat.” He waited, still watching. 
  More shapes—the smaller, bulky, less angular shadow of Elemental armored 
  infantry. An ad hoc Star, he fi gured. Four Points of Elementals and an OmniMech.
  “Prey,” he breathed. A switch brought his ’Mech to life.
  “Baker-Third,” he said. His radio was on.
  Across the woods the Jade Falcon ’Mech slowed, its angular torso twisting 
  under the pull of heavy abdominal myomers to face toward him.
  “Attack your nearest target,” he ordered. “Ten seconds from hack.”
  The Elementals burst into motion. From where they had been striding quickly 
  forward they erupted into the air on silver jets, moving obliquely to their original 
  direction of travel. The Shadow Cat, forty-fi ve tons of Clan-made OmniMech, 
  twisted its feet around in line with its torso and strode forward.
  The man in the ’Mech grinned, a harsh grin, a hunter’s grin. His ‘Mech lurched 
  into motion, gyros whining as he slammed his throttles forward. “Jade Falcon!” he 
  roared. “I am Samson Furey, lieutenant of Wolf’s Dragoons.” He touched a control 
  on his console, sending a time hack.
  His speakers crackled as the Shadow Cat’s pilot spoke. “You dare claim the name 
  of an honorable Clan, mercenary?”
  Samson smiled. His computer pinged a range on his heads-up display, six hundred 
  meters between the Shadow Cat and his Black Hawk. Six seconds. He brought his 
  OmniMech’s arms—and the PPCs and lasers mounted there—up to bear.
  “I won this Bloodname in the fi rst months of the invasion,” Samson said, 
  watching the clock count downward. “When I was a Smoke Jaguar.”
  “And now you are a mercenary!”
  “I am,” Samson said, still grinning. The counter clocked to zero.
  Three dust-gray ’Mechs—all of them wearing snarling black wolf’s heads on red 
  disks—rose from concealment and opened fi re. Stuttering ruby laser fi re and the 
  heavy coruscating wash of PPCs lit the damp morning air. A Point of Elementals 
  died.
  “Cowards!” the Shadow Cat’s pilot screamed. “You strike like bandits!”
  Five hundred meters. The trees between them thinned. Samson adjusted his aim, 
  painting the crosshairs over the Cat’s jutting nose. “Not bandits,” he murmured. 
  “Dragoons.”
  He fi red.
  ▲▼▲
  “The Jade Falcon was correct,” MechWarrior Barron said.
  Samson looked away from the wreckage of an Elemental suit. He’d been toeing 
  the shattered helmet with his boot, admiring the craftsmanship of the falcon 
  plumage painted across the top. Barron stood a few meters away. He wore a jock’s 
  out-of-cockpit undress, Dragoon blue coveralls and a ballcap with the red Delta 
  Regiment D. His face was composed, but Samson had seen Clansmen conceal 
  contempt before. Crinkles around the eyes.
  “Do you feel like a bandit?” Samson asked.
  “I am abtakha.”
  “As was I.”
  “As you are, Star Commander.”
  “Lieutenant.” Samson turned to face the bondsman squarely. “You are a Dragoon 
  now, Barron. There are no Stars in Delta.”
  “Bloody freebirth ranks,” Barron spat.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  63
  COVENTRY
  World Name:
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  Position in System:
  Time to Jump Point:
  Number of Satellites:
  Surface Gravity:
  Atm. Pressure:
  Equatorial Temperature:
  Surface Water:
  Recharging Station:
  HPG Class Type:
  Highest Native Life:
  Population (3058):
  Socio-Industrial Levels:
  A paradise world when it was ﬁ rst settled, Coventry had 
  become an industrial and agricultural powerhouse by the time 
  the Lyran Commonwealth was born. The world became a 
  major trade center for the Commonwealth and the nearby Rim 
  Worlds Republic, and eventually developed signiﬁ cant military 
  industries.
  Today, Coventry is home to a range of major manufacturers 
  for the Lyran Alliance, including Coventry Metal Works, Deﬁ ance 
  Industries, Ceres Metals, Greenbill Aerospace and Nashan 
  Computers. Its subtropical islands also host a moderate tourist 
  business. The Succession Wars and industry have not harmed 
  the world’s natural beauty.
  While relatively well off during the Succession Wars, Coventry 
  was a target of major Clan raids and the site of a turning point 
  in the Clan invasion.
  e
  h
  w
  n
  p
  s
  h
  d
  s
  l
  o
  o
  o
  u
  h
  G
  h
  f
  a
  f
  m
  e
  t
  r
  O
  a
  r
  r
  d
  r
  s
  y
  C
  s
  R
  a
  n
  a
  a
  d
  o
  N
  s
  i
  W
  e
  G
  J
  p
  a
  V
  v
  o
  v
  a
  e
  ts
  e
  A
  e
  b
  o
  r
  3
  v
  y
  S
  t
  e
  r
  v
  p
  y
  e
  :
  E
  n
  a
  w
  l
  c
  b
  n
  r
  o
  r
  r
  L
  8
  i
  o
  e
  l
  i
  m
  a
  N
  C
  o
  s
  p
  t
  n
  o
  e
  a
  w
  s
  u
  :
  T
  R
  u
  W
  i
  d
  n
  a
  e
  Y
  s
  t
  s
  d
  e
  C
  y
  s
  u
  w
  d
  S
  d
  s
  l
  n
  g
  v
  w
  r
  a
  ﬁ
  e
  u
  o
  r
  M
  f 
  p
  t
  T
  w
  s
  o
   
  a
  o
  s
  n
  h
  e
  a
  e
  d
  m
  ﬁ
  e
  d
  e
  C
  C
  t 
  t
  D
  f
  t
  a
  e
  t
  n
  p
  m
  u
  s
  a
  r
  t
  t
  become an industrial and agricultural powerhouse by the time
  j
  t
  d
  t
  f
  th
  C
  lth
  d th
  b
  Ri
  p
  ,
  y
  p
  g
  y
  Computers Its subtropical islands also host a moderate tourist
  Today Coventry is home to a range of major manufacturers
  While relatively well off during the Succession Wars Coventry
  y
  g
  y
  i
  i
  l
  C
  h
  S
  i
  I d
  t i l L
  l
  Highest Native Life:
  g
  g
  S
  f
  W
  Atm Pressure:
  i
  P
  J
  i
  T
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  COVENTRY
  THUS IT SHALL STAND
  J A S O N  S C H M E T Z E R
  
  T H U S  I T  S H A L L  S T A N D
  Until the Clans called on Luthien, capital of the Draconis Combine, Samson 
  Furey had been a proud warrior of Clan Smoke Jaguar, winner of a Bloodname 
  at twenty-six and a Star Captain in command of a Trinary of OmniMechs. He 
  had believed the superiority of the Clans, and the ideology of the Crusaders, 
  who believed that it was the Clans’ sacred duty to conquer the Inner Sphere and 
  capture Terra. He hadn’t had any doubts.
  Until Luthien.
  Captured by mercenaries and made bondsman, Samson had suff ered through 
  his crisis of faith. He’d emerged from that with a new understanding of warfare, 
  a new respect for his new Clan—the Dragoons—and a new recognition of much 
  of himself. He was truly a Dragoon now, and an offi  cer. His lieutenant’s disc was 
  barely a year old, and the major gave him most of the new bondsmen to break in. 
  He was good as this task; he knew the right buttons to push, having pushed them 
  in himself carefully.
  A Clan Trueborn such as he had been when he’d been a Smoke Jaguar would 
  have challenged the Marauder IIC’s pilot, and fought him in open battle, honorably, 
  with the others forming a Circle of Equals around him. Challenges had their place, 
  even in the Wolf Pack.
  The battlefi eld was not one of them.
  The Marauder had thirty-fi ve tons over his Black Hawk, and a bevy of weapons 
  above and beyond the third PPC that outmatched his two. It carried more armor 
  and a boatload of heat sinks. It also lacked the one fl aw that most advanced 
  ’Mechs were saddled with—the vulnerable extra-light engine. In order to kill this 
  ’Mech Samson would have to core out the engine or decapitate it … and that 
  would take the whole of Baker Company.
  Which meant he had to fi ght for the time it would take the captain to bring the 
  rest of the company up. Five minutes, give or take.
  There would be no Circle.
  ▲▼▲
  The table of organization for Baker Company listed Samson’s ’Mech as a Black 
  Hawk OmniMech, fi fty tons, Confi guration Alpha. It had started that way, but 
  Samson had worked with his technicians to modify it a bit. Where a normal Alpha 
  carried a pair of anti-missile systems in the shoulders, Samson’s ’Mech replaced 
  them with heat sinks. Instead of the single pulse laser, he split the weight across 
  two standard extended-range middle beamers. It gave him an edge in heat 
  dissipation, as the two extra sinks would keep up—barely—with the PPCs, and 
  when the heat rose too high, the beamers gave him bite long enough to cool.
  The rise they’d used for line of sight dropped off  about thirty meters straight 
  down. Samson eyed the Marauder’s course, checked his sensors, and stepped off  
  the cliff  face. He stomped the Black Hawk’s jump jets into life halfway down, coming 
  to a knee-bending landing below, and then stalked forward. Roars announced 
  the rest of his lance following, and missiles from the quick-fi ring Baboon pelted 
  the rock face behind them.
  “Rope-a-dope?” Cruz asked.
  “Roger that,” Samson said. Barron moved up to pace him. Cruz fell in behind 
  Lyons.
  “You are headed away from the Marauder,” Barron said a few moments later.
  “I know,” Samson said.
  “But—“
  “But nothing, nestling,” Samson said. “Watch your sector.”
  “Aff !”
  Samson slowed the Black Hawk to a crawl. His sensors blipped at him. A large 
  mass of metal was moving through the trees about one hundred fi fty meters 
  forward. He couldn’t make it out—the woods were much thicker here—but he 
  didn’t expect it to be the Marauder. One of the Griffi  ns, probably. They had the 
  speed to get this close this fast. He pushed a dead, half-rotted hardwood out of 
  his way and moved toward it.
  “Sir,” Barron warned.
  “Don’t shoot until I tell you,” Samson whispered.
  A green-painted Griffi  n IIC burst from the trees ninety-meters ahead of him, 
  weapons raised. Samson didn’t move. The Griffi  n didn’t move.
  No one fi red.
  Samson moved the Black Hawk around to the side. He kept the ’Mech’s 
  movements slow, as if he were checking his footing with each step. The Jade 
  ▲▼▲
   The Black Hawk’s cockpit was still warm, despite the cool morning air and the 
  open hatch. Samson sealed the hatch as he dropped into the command couch, 
  pulling the neurohelmet from the overhead rack and settled it into place. His 
  tactical console was beeping softly. He secured his helmet and looked.
  Five red dots were blinking at him, two kilometers away and approaching 
  slowly. Looking for your patrol? he wondered. “Baker-Third, report status.”
  “Three-Two, up,” Sergeant Hannah Lyons said.
  “Three-Three, up,” Sergeant Benicio Cruz reported. His Enforcer was still.
  “Three-Four, nominal,” Barron said. If a ’Mech could be said to sulk, his Vindicator 
  was sulking.
  “Incoming,” Samson said, “two minutes.”
  “We staying or going, Ell Tee?” Lyons asked. Her ’Mech, a slender Hatchetman 
  in Delta grays, took a practice swing with its deadly three-ton hatchet at a nearby 
  Coventry fi r. The tree swayed with the displaced air as the blade passed near it.
  “Two seconds,” he said, then toggled a diff erent frequency. “Baker Six, Baker 
  Three-Six.”
  “Furey. Go.” Captain Matthew Norman—Baker Six—sounded busy.
  “Incoming Star,” he said, reading off  the coordinates. “We just killed a patrol. 
  They’re probably coming to look for them.”
  “Status?”
  “Golden.” They’d lost a bit of armor taking down the Star—Barron, of course, 
  had blundered into a Gauss round from the Shadow Cat—but nothing serious.
  “IDs?”
  “Not yet.”
  The was a pause—two seconds, no more—before Norman spoke. “Battalion 
  wants this line held,” he said. “Cavalry’s coming, Sam. Six minutes.” There was a 
  click and then atmospheric squeal.
  “Quite a talker, the captain,” he chuckled. Samson toggled the lance frequency.
  “We’re holding them. Help’s on the way.”
  “Joy,” Lyons said.
  “Let’s get out and see what we’re up against,” Samson said. He used the 
  touchscreen on his tactical map to place a few nav points, then squirted the map 
  packet to his lance. “Recon points marked. We should get a good line-of-sight 
  there, see what we’re up against.”
  The nearest high ground—a rise, if it could be called such, above trees—was 
  about four hundred meters to the east. The Black Hawk strode forward, shouldering 
  the Coventry fi rs out of the way. The rest of his lance fell into line behind him, 
  Lyons and Cruz thirty meters out to either side, Barron ninety meters behind. They 
  covered the ground in a little more than a minute, and as the Black Hawk’s canopy 
  cleared the treeline the computer started beeping with ’Mech identifi cations.
  Two light Baboon support ’Mechs. A pair of middleweight Griffi  n IIC second-
  line ’Mechs. And in the center of the Star’s tactical column, eighty-fi ve tons of 
  Marauder IIC. As the Dragoon ‘Mechs detected them the column leads—the 
  Griffi  ns—stutter-stepped as they picked up the Dragoon ‘Mechs.
  “Shit,” Samson muttered. He started to look at the range but jerked to the right 
  as a trio of star-bright PPCs slashed past his canopy. “Close enough,” he said. 
  “Contact forward!”
  “Orders?”
  “Five minutes,” he said. “We hold them for fi ve minutes and Six will be here.”
  “Is that all?” Cruz said. His ’Mech staggered as a Jade Falcon laser carved more 
  than half-a-ton of armor from his left shoulder.
  “Who’s got who?” Samson asked.
  “Well, the big boy’s got you,” Lyons said. “Cruz has one of the Griffi  ns, and I’ve 
  got the other. One of the Baboons just launched at Barron.”
  “I thought we disregarded zellbrigen, quiaff ?” Barron said.
  “Aff , in the normal course of events,” Samson said. “But recall what I said it 
  cost?”
  “Time?”
  “And what do we have to spend?”
  “Time.”
  Samson smiled. “Let’s play with the birdies, kids,” he said.
  ▲▼▲
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  64
  
  T H U S  I T  S H A L L  S T A N D
  ARTIST: EARL GEIER
  PUBLICATION: NULL SET
  YEAR: 1992
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  65
  
  T H U S  I T  S H A L L  S T A N D
  and Cruz checked in. Neither of them had gone ka-boom, a voice in his head told 
  him with a chuckle.
  “Impressive gunnery, Lieutenant.”
  Samson laughed at the tonelessness of the kid’s voice. Barron could have been 
  that Baboon pilot—for all intents, had been that Baboon’s pilot, eleven days ago. 
  He gathered the Black Hawk into a half-crouch.
  “Now for the big fi sh,” he said, and kicked down on the jump jet pedals.
  ▲▼▲
  He knew the plan was shot by the time the Black Hawk reached the apogee of 
  its jump.
  Samson had intended to let his sensors get a good sip of information without the 
  blurring distraction of the forest. His long-range sensors pinged announcements 
  and painted seven green icons on his screen, a klick and a half distant toward 
  Leitnerton. Baker Company.
  A half-dozen red icons were clustered among them.
  “Baker Six, Three-Six,” Samson sent as the Black Hawk dropped toward the 
  ground.
  “Going to be late, Sam,” Captain Norman said. Samson heard the bells of heat 
  overload alarms in the background of the transmission. “Two Stars, six plus four.”
  Six ’Mechs and four Points—twenty—Elementals.
  “Do you need support, sir?”
  “When you’re done in there, Sam. I can’t have a heavy in my backfi eld.”
  “Roger that, Captain,” Samson said, and cut the channel. He stomped the Black 
  Hawk’s foot, clawing a rent in the soft forest fl oor. “Shit.”
  Barron’s Vindicator dropped out of the sky forty meters short of where Samson 
  had landed. He appeared through the trees about ten seconds later. “Sir! I saw–”
  “So did I.”
  “Baker-Third,” Samson said. “We’re on our own.”
  “Unity, Ell Tee,” Cruz said. “Four on three, with a Marauder?”
  “The captain’s bogged down with a Binary,” Samson said. “Report status.”
  “One Griffi  n destroyed,” Lyons said. “An earth-shattering ka-boom.”
  “I heard.”
  “The Marauder is between us,” Cruz said, reading off  a position report. “I’ve been 
  playing tag, but he’s good. Couple more hits and I’m done.”
  Samson grimaced. “What about the other two?” His sensors were blank—the red 
  icons representing the other Jade Falcon ’Mechs were cross-hatched, indicating 
  approximations, not fact.
  “The other Griffi  n is shadowing the Marauder,” Lyons said. “I think he’s hoping 
  the big boy will scare me up.”
  “The last Baboon?”
  “Lost it in the tr—“
  Missile exploded against the Black Hawk’s right arm and right leg. Samson 
  hurled the OmniMech forward, out of the line of fi re, as the last Baboon stepped 
  through a narrow breach in the trees. It twisted to follow him while its weapons 
  recycled. Samson saw the jets as compressed air blew the last wisps of exhaust 
  from the launcher before cycling the next warheads in. It stepped closer …
  … into a pattern of ruby laser fi re from Barron’s Vindicator. The young jock was 
  swinging his ’Mech around the Black Hawk. The big Warrior PPC in the Vindicator’s 
  forearm came up, static ghosts dancing around the aperture as its capacitors 
  discharged. The lightning-snap shot took the Baboon in the shoulder, tearing its 
  left arm off  and spinning the twenty-ton ’Mech around.
  “Never mind,” Samson spat. He jerked at his controls, bringing his ‘Mech 
  around.
  “Neg!” Barron cried. “He is mine!” The Vindicator crashed forward.
  “Boy—“
  “NEG!”
  The Baboon righted itself and drove left, away from the two Dragoon ’Mechs. 
  A half-fl ight of missiles arrowed past Samson to spend themselves against the 
  virgin armor over the Vindicator’s left thigh. Samson cursed under his breath and 
  wrenched at his controls. The Black Hawk’s arms were coming up.
  The Vindicator’s PPC fl ared to life again, this time smashing the armor 
  protecting the Baboon’s heart. From Samson’s Clan-made monster, that shot had 
  cored the other Baboon. Barron’s ’Mech mounted the inferior Inner Sphere-made 
  weapon, however. It only destroyed the Jade Falcon’s torso armor and nicked the 
  Falcon ‘Mech did the same, mirroring him. A few steps more and it disappeared 
  into the woods.
  “Why did you not fi re?” Barron asked.
  “He’s not my opponent.”
  “Zellbrigen?”
  “Aff .”
  “For time,” Barron spat.
  “Aff .”
  “So we can gang up on them with the rest of the company?”
  Samson grinned, stepping the Black Hawk into the path crushed by the Griffi  n 
  IIC. “Of course. We’re dishonorable bandits, quiaff ?”
  “Aff .”
  Wrong answer. Samson risked a glance off  his track to check his tactical map. 
  The green icons of his and Barron’s ’Mechs were vibrant and green, as was the red 
  of the recently-departed Griffi  n. The others—both Dragoon and Jade Falcon—
  were half-translucent approximations. The sensors couldn’t pin them down—too 
  much interference from the trees and terrain.
  “We should be near the Baboons,” Samson said a minute later. “Anything?”
  “Neg,” Barron said.
  A boom erupted, loud enough to reverberate through the thick canopy 
  ferroglass of the Black Hawk and shake the broad leaves the blackpalms nearby. 
  He checked his sensors but nothing had changed. Someone’s gone ka-boom.
  “And when we reach the Baboons?”
  “How long do you think you can hide from that Star in this mess?” Samson 
  asked. Two minutes left.
  “In this?” The sneer in Barron’s voice was audible. “Forever. Did I wish to hide, 
  that is.”
  “And so when we reach the Baboons, and we destroy them, and zellbrigen 
  ends, how long do you think it will take us to get past the Marauder and back to a 
  position to support Six when he arrives with the rest of the company?”
  “Long enough,” Barron said.
  “Aff .”
  A ping announced another MAD contact. Samson looked at his map and 
  smiled—the last Baboon has remained where he’d stopped, waiting for one of the 
  others to be killed so he could engage in honorable battle. Samson oriented the 
  Black Hawk toward the contact and pushed forward, picking up speed. Seconds 
  later, he cleared a small rise and there it was.
  No one would ever call the Baboon an imposing ’Mech, not when placed 
  next to the angular grace of the Marauder IIC or the imposing bulk of a ninety-
  ton Mauler. Twenty tons, and most of those missile launcher, the Baboon was an 
  excellent choice of ’Mech for warriors just out of the sibko, a ride for them to learn 
  their place in the Clan and the patience—some called it humility—that a warrior 
  needed to survive the bloodlust of combat.
  Samson stabbed the Black Hawk’s arms forward like he was surprised to see the 
  ’Mech. The Baboon stood motionless, the dull-green paint doing a decent job of 
  folding it back into the shadows beneath the towering Coventry fi r it was nestled 
  against. Its arms stayed motionless at its side. The Black Hawk’s systems detected 
  no active targeting.
  One minute.
  “Freebirth,” Barron muttered, loud enough to trip his microphone and send the 
  curse across the meters to Samson’s ears. The Baboon twitched. The Jade Falcon 
  jock must have seen the spike on his sensors as the Vindicator transmitted.
  Impressive discipline, nestling, Samson thought. He twisted the Black Hawk’s 
  torso away, as if searching for another target. I hope you survive to become a 
  bondsman. His cheeks tightened, pulling his face into a predatory rictus beneath 
  is neurohelmet.
  The Black Hawk’s right arm snapped out, as fast as a man’s. The Baboon didn’t 
  have time to move, to shoot, to do anything. The PPC that replaced the Dragoon 
  Omni’s right fi st snarled iridescent particles at just beneath a laser’s velocity. 
  The coruscating shot struck the Baboon dead-center, eating at the armor there, 
  through the armor there, and devoured the heart of the Jade Falcon ’Mech. It 
  dropped as fast as Coventry’s gravity could grab it.
  So much for zellbrigen. He eyed the fallen ‘Mech for a moment, then dialed his 
  radio’s power up. “Baker-Third: rally, rally, rally.” He swung the Black Hawk around, 
  toward the way he’d come. Barron’s Vindicator stood watching.
  “What?” Samson asked. Acknowledgement clicked through his system as Lyons 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  66
  
  T H U S  I T  S H A L L  S T A N D
  The soft explosion barely rocked Samson. He was already halfway turned over 
  from the collision, ignoring the new red warning lights fl ashing on his console, 
  when he saw it.
  The Marauder IIC.
  Brilliant green, well-painted with a fi erce green jade falcon stooping as if it 
  would fall off  the ’Mech’s nose and fl ay its enemies. Samson grunted, rolling the 
  Black Hawk. “Savashri!” he cursed, falling back unconsciously on the diction of his 
  youth.
  The Marauder IIC seemed to regard the wreckage of the Griffi  n for a moment—
  but only an instant—before it set itself and fi red. All three PPCs, three identical 
  weapons to those in Samson’s Black Hawk’s forearms. Three bolts of subatomic 
  hell. All three struck their target. 
  Blowing Barron’s Vindicator right off  its feet.
  ▲▼▲
  “Kid!” Samson yelled. He worked the Black Hawk to its feet and kicked the 
  jump jet pedals. The Black Hawk hurtled into the air and back, over the writhing 
  Vindicator, to land with a copse—a slender copse—of trees between it and the 
  Jade Falcon monster.
  Static crackled across the space between the two ’Mechs. “Still here,” Barron 
  gasped. “He spread the shots. Lost about three tons of armor, but everything still 
  works.”
  Samson grinned. “Then get up, nestling!”
  The Marauder advanced. Samson toggled his screens to thermal: the Jade 
  Falcon ’Mech was warm but not overheated too badly. Damn heat sinks! He’d been 
  hoping the heat burden would slow it down but it wasn’t. He checked his own 
  levels, and watched the heat sinks bleed off  the last of his waste heat.
  “Almost there,” Cruz reported.
  “The same,” from Lyons.
  “Okay,” Samson murmured. He sidestepped the Black Hawk far enough around 
  the trees to get a line on the Marauder. He fi red, both arms. The PPCs tore matching 
  scars across the Jade Falcon’s left chest and left thigh. The medium lasers, fi ring 
  two instants later, scorched dual paths down the ’Mech’s right shin. Most of three 
  tons of armor shed in less than ten seconds.
  The Marauder barely stumbled before it fi red back. Two of the Jade Falcon’s 
  PPCs devoured the trees between Samson and the Marauder. The third burst 
  through the confl agration and drilled most of the way through the Black Hawk’s 
  chest armor. Samson staggered back under the impact, letting it push him back 
  and out of sight behind the newly-growing smoke and pyre.
  “Barron?”
  The Vindicator dropped out of the air behind him. Samson glanced at it as it 
  landed, but then jerked his head back around to stare. The forty-fi ve ton ’Mech 
  lurched as it landed, its left knee actuator failing in a shower of rose-colored 
  sparks.
  “Freebirth!” Barron swore. “Well, I was operable.”
  Samson smiled. “Stick with me, kid.” He backpedaled.
  “Contact!” Cruz shouted.
  Samson looked up, trying to see through the smoke. A breeze whispered 
  through—it might have been wash from Barron’s landing—and drew aside the 
  curtain of smoke. Cruz’s Enforcer waded out of the treeline behind the Marauder 
  and raised both arms. The big laser fi red fi rst, striking the Marauder square in 
  the back. Samson saw the refl ected light as the armor exploded away. Then the 
  Enforcer’s right arm came into line and bucked as the LB 10-X cannon fi red. Sparks 
  fl ashed from across the Marauder IIC’s frame as the submunitions sanded armor 
  from the Jade Falcon ’Mech. It slowed, twisting in place to bring one arm to bear 
  on the Cruz’s ’Mech.
  “Easy, big boy,” Lyons said. Her Hatchetman appeared sixty meters south of 
  Cruz’s ’Mech, arms leveled. Two pulse lasers sputtered light against the Marauder’s 
  side. Her cannon boomed, sending solid-shot rounds across the small clearing. 
  They connected with the Marauder’s right leg, staggering it.
  Four on one, Samson thought. He kept backpedaling, trying to increase the 
  distance between them. We’ve got him. He’s got to know that. They’d hit the 
  Marauder at least once in almost every armor zone. A Dragoon in this situation 
  and with that much damage would cut and run to try and save his machine.
  The Jade Falcon straightened up and turned back toward the two newest 
  latticework structure beneath. Nice shot, though.
  The Vindicator’s medium pulse laser fl ashed, driving ruby energy into the 
  gaping wound from the PPC. The Baboon collapsed, its engine scramming as its 
  shielding was devoured. Barron dragged his charging ‘Mech to a stop with the 
  fallen Jade Falcon at his feet.
  “Second Baboon down,” Barron said on the lance frequency.
  “First blood for the rook, Ell Tee?” Cruz asked.
  “First blood.”
  “Ooh-rah, kid,” Lyons said.
  “There’s still two more of them,” Cruz put in.
  “Then let’s deal with them.”
  ▲▼▲
  “This way,” Cruz said. Static rippled through the radio—evidence of the near-
  passage of an ionizing PPC bolt. “That was close. The Griffi  n is still with him.”
  “I can deal with the little one, if we can get them apart,” Lyons said. Samson 
  could hear it in her voice—the Hatchetman was slapping the haft of its hatchet 
  against its other hand. He was surprised he couldn’t hear the clangs.
  “We’ll take them together,” Samson said. “Six will need us soon.”
  “We could disengage,” Cruz said. “Rally with the rest of the company.”
  “We could,” Samson allowed. “But I’m the Ell Tee, and I say we’re not. Quiaff ?”
  “Aff .”
  “He is coming,” Barron said. The Vindicator pointed.
  A Coventry fi r could grow to sixty or seventy meters if given enough nutrients, 
  a break from the wind, and a few decades. The line in front of them must have 
  been some of the oldest in the forest. Like watchmen. Samson washed his sensor 
  focus across them and it beeped: heavy metal.
  “Got them,” he whispered. “Close on me.” He raised the Black Hawk’s arms, licked 
  his lips. Flinched as missiles burst against the Black Hawk’s left side. He looked 
  up.
  The fi nal Griffi  n IIC, forty tons of Clan refi nement to a classic BattleMech, 
  dropped out of the sky on fl aming jets. The large laser buried in the Griffi  n’s chest 
  glared at him, bursting more than a half-ton of armor from his left leg, nearly 
  laying it bare.
  “Contact,” he screamed. Then he fi red.
  Both PPCs smashed into the Griffi  n’s torso, one to either side. The ravenous 
  bolts stripped the armor protection from its side torsos but didn’t penetrate. 
  The ’Mech staggered as it landed, almost two tons lighter than when it left the 
  ground. Samson leered, started the Black Hawk forward.
  Barron fi red past him, his smaller PPC no less brilliant in the fl ashing light. It 
  took the Griffi  n high in the chest, just missing the gaps torn by Samson’s strike. 
  The Griffi  n stumbled back a step, driven by the impact. Barron’s missile barrage 
  fl ew wide, exploding in the branches of the great fi r behind the Jade Falcon.
  “Run away, little bird,” Samson rasped. His throat was parched in the heat of his 
  cockpit. He ignored it, bringing his lasers to bear. He fi red. Both beams converged 
  on the Griffi  n’s left leg, eating deeply into the armor. The Griffi  n’s laser fl ashed 
  again, the wet loam bursting in steam explosions between the Black Hawk’s legs. 
  Splinters exploded from the ground and shredded themselves against his leg 
  armor.
  “He will not,” Barron said. He didn’t.
  The Griffi  n charged.
  Samson set himself and drew a bead. Both lasers and PPCs fl ickered out, 
  caressing the armor over the Griffi  n’s arms, its leg, and its denuded torso. The 
  ’Mech’s left arm fl ew away, clipped at the shoulder. The Griffi  n stumbled, nearly 
  fell, but the Falcon jock must have clutched in his gyros tight. It lowered its right 
  shoulder, sparks snapping beneath the tortured armor, and accelerated.
  “Shit,” Samson whispered.
  The Griffi  n’s shoulder deformed under the impact as it took the Black Hawk just 
  under its right side, actually lifting the fi fty-ton OmniMech a meter or so from the 
  ground and depositing it on its back. Sensors screamed for attention as the Griffi  n 
  clanged away from the impact, light glaring from its torso. The impact had driven 
  parts of its own structure through its engine shielding—if it had been a man, he’d 
  have broken his clavicle and driven several ribs into his lungs. The Griffi  n made 
  it almost forty meters past where the Black Hawk lay and then skidded to stop. 
  Plasma wuff ed out from the breached reactor, fi nishing the Griffi  n.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  67
  
  T H U S  I T  S H A L L  S T A N D
  of his ’Mech.”
  “Then let’s go.”
  The Marauder IIC had left a path through the woods where he’d crushed the 
  trees out of his way. Samson led the trio toward the fi rst gap, apprehension 
  clawing at his stomach. The Black Hawk’s heats sinks wicked the last of the heat 
  overload free while the life support made the cockpit tolerable again.
  Approaching at half-speed, Samson swept his sensor focus 
  across the trees to either side; were he the Marauder’s pilot, 
  he’d be waiting on the other side, ready to ambush 
  the fi rst ’Mech through. The Black Hawk didn’t 
  detect anything but Samson wasn’t taking any 
  chances. He rushed the opening, twisting the 
  Black Hawk’s torso to the right just in case 
  he found eighty-fi ve tons of pissed-off  
  Jade Falcon waiting for him.
  There was nothing. He kept moving, 
  clearing the way for the others. 
  Another ’Mech-sized hole appeared 
  in the trees in front of him. “He’s 
  headed for the company,” Samson 
  said. He adjusted the Black Hawk’s 
  course. “Come on.”
  “Ell 
  Tee—“ 
  Lyons’ 
  voice 
  disintegrated in wash of plasma-
  discharge static. Samson looked 
  up into his three-sixty HUD and 
  gasped. The Hatchetman was 
  listing to the side, blue-white static 
  traceries slithering across it. Its left 
  arm had been amputated.
  The 
  Marauder IIC 
  had 
  circled 
  around.
  The big ’Mech slapped a thick-bodied 
  fi r out of the way with a smoking PPC-arm 
  and brought the other one to bear. Lyons 
  was still disoriented from the fi rst strike and way 
  overbalanced from the loss of the arm. She staggered. 
  Samson clutched at his controls, willing the OmniMech to 
  turn. Slow… too slow—
  Barron’s Vindicator hit the Hatchetman in a credible body tackle, taking 
  both ’Mechs down. The Marauder’s second PPC tore over the pile of ’Mechs. 
  Barron struggled to extricate himself from the fallen Hatchetman. Lyons’ cursing 
  fi lled the lance channel.
  Samson completed his turn. “Howdy,” he whispered, and squeezed his 
  triggers.
  Both PPCs slashed at the Marauder’s left shoulder, tearing the limb off  at the 
  joint. Sparks showered from the blown actuator as the arm fell away, dropping 
  to the forest fl oor like the tailings from a grinder. Heat blossomed again in the 
  Black Hawk’s cockpit, but Samson ignored it. He squeezed his secondary triggers, 
  hitting the Marauder with the paired lasers. Both shots struck true, savaging 
  the little remaining armor over the Marauder’s chest. A sickly-green fl ash-puff  
  announced the death of a heat sink.
  “Fall, dammit,” Samson growled.
  The Marauder righted itself and turned away from the fallen Dragoons. The 
  lasers, quiet until now, fl ared to life, cutting at the exposed myomers and structure 
  on the Black Hawk’s leg. A lurch and fl ashing alarms told him the Jade Falcon had 
  fused his ankle, hobbling the Black Hawk. Samson stumped to the side, trying to 
  put the Marauder between him and the fallen Dragoons. The Jade Falcon jock 
  would have to decide.
  “Dammit, kid, get off  me!”
  “I am trying!”
  Samson fl icked his eye between his HUD and his PPC indicators. Four seconds… 
  six… eight… green. He fi red, held down the triggers. The lasers would only be a 
  second or more…
  His right-arm PPC missed, destroying yet another tree. The left-arm weapon 
  connected, spreading plasma and kinetic damage across the Marauder’s left chest. 
  ’Mechs, Lyons and Cruz. It started forward, a slow walking pace, and brought its 
  weapons to bear. Samson opened his mouth to shout a warning, closed it. Cruz 
  and Lyons were good jocks. They didn’t need warnings. The Marauder fi red.
  Three PPC struck Cruz’s Enforcer full in the chest, one smashing at the armor 
  over the fi fty-ton ’Mech’s heart and the other two on the side already weakened by 
  the fi ght with one of the Griffi  ns. Those two beams did the most damage, slicing 
  through armor and structure both to destroy the vulnerable 
  shielding protecting the extra-light engine. The Enforcer 
  managed another step before collapsing. Cruz’s 
  swearing trailed off  as his transmitter lost power, 
  but Samson knew the jock was still cursing in 
  his now-darkened cockpit. Three to one, he 
  corrected himself.
  Even outnumbered the Marauder IIC 
  was enough machine to take out all 
  three Dragoon ’Mechs and escape. 
  Its weapons carried enough force 
  to match the three Dragoon 
  machines’ combined fi repower, 
  and its armor would hold up to 
  repeated strikes. The Dragoons’ 
  would not: another hit on any 
  of Barron’s exposed surfaces 
  would amputate the limb easily, 
  and the Black Hawk’s armor was 
  in similar shape. Lyons was fresh 
  but thin--one good exchange 
  with the Marauder and she’d be 
  in the same state.
  “Stick and move, people,” Samson 
  ordered. He jammed the throttles to 
  the stop, angling the Black Hawk into 
  a leaning run. The next time he stopped 
  he’d be on the ground--or the Marauder 
  would. They couldn’t stand still against the 
  assault ’Mech’s fi repower.
  “I can’t run, you know that,” Barron spat. Samson 
  grinned. A contraction; soon he’ll be back-shooting 
  Capellans with the rest of us.
  “Best speed and keep to cover.” The Black Hawk shouldered through a 
  stand of young fi rs, shattering the six-meter-high trees like weeds. He rotated the 
  torso around, trying to bring his guns to bear. The Marauder was twisting away to 
  track Lyons. Samson fi red.
  One of this PPC missed wide, immolating an ancient fi r. The other struck the 
  armored bollard over the Marauder’s left knee. The casing shattered and fl ew 
  apart, but the armor did its job and kept the delicate knee actuator intact. The 
  Jade Falcon ’Mech staggered, but the impact threw its shots off . Instead of spread 
  trip PPC fl ares across Lyon’s Hatchetman, only one connected, ripping into the 
  armor over its left thigh.
  Barron, staggering after Samson’s Omni, managed to tag the Marauder again in 
  the chest with his PPC, but his missiles and laser missed. Lyon’s cannon missed—
  shaken by the PPC strike, no doubt—but two of her lasers connected, striping the 
  armor on the Marauder’s left forearm.
  We’ve got a chance, Samson realized.
  The Jade Falcon must have been thinking the same thing. He shifted his advance 
  to face the gap left by Cruz’s fall and lurched into a sprint. Samson grunted and 
  reversed his own turn to follow. The Marauder disappeared behind a line of fi rs 
  before Samson’s PPCs recycled. Snarling inside his helmet, Samson slowed. “Form 
  on me,” he said.
  “We’re following him?” Lyons asked.
  “He’s headed toward the rest of the company.”
  “Good. There’s more of them than there are of us.”
  Samson swallowed. “We can take him, and we can’t let him get behind the Six.”
  “We’re not going to catch him talking about it,” Barron said.
  “Anyone see sign of Cruz?”
  Lyons laughed. “He’s fi ne, Ell Tee. I saw him out of his cockpit kicking the side 
  overload free while the life support made the 
  Approaching at half-speed, 
  across the trees to either 
  he’d be waiting on 
  the fi rst ’Mech 
  detect anythi
  chances. H
  Black Ha
  he fou
  Jade 
  T
  cle
  An
  in
  h
  g
  lis
  tra
  arm
  Th
  around
  The bi
  fi r out of t
  and brought
  was still disorien
  overbalanced from t
  Samson clutched at his c
  turn. Slow… too slow—
  a
  age, s c g
  both to destroy the vulnerable 
  -light engine. The Enforcer
  re collapsing. Cruz’s 
  mitter lost power, 
  still cursing in 
  ee to one, he 
  uder IIC
  out all 
  ape. 
  rce 
  on 
  r, 
  o 
  ’ 
  y 
  , 
  s 
  h 
  e 
  be 
  mson 
  les to 
  wk into 
  k
  stopped 
  e Marauder
  ill against the 
  Barron spat. Samson 
   he’ll be back-shooting 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  68
  
  T H U S  I T  S H A L L  S T A N D
  The sparking shoulder actuator darkened abruptly as the power connections 
  severed. The lasers hit the same part but only further damaged already-fused 
  components. Heat alarms burst to life in Samson’s cockpit.
  The Marauder fi red again. Samson saw blue-white, felt the Black Hawk lurch—
  —and then blinked at the tree canopy above him. What…
  “Get up, Ell Tee.”
  Samson shook his head… he worked his controls, rolled the balky Black Hawk 
  to its chest, then pushed it to its feet. Its left arm was snagging—the elbow is 
  fried—but he got to his feet. Where…
  The Marauder IIC was down and smoking.
  “How long was I out?”
  “Not long,” Lyons said.
  “You got him.” He dialed up the magnifi cation on his display. The Marauder’s 
  chest was intact but a glance at the thermal showed it glowing. It had 
  lost its reactor shielding. He tried to judge the damage, but it 
  was too complex. “Lyons?”
  “It was the kid, Ell Tee,” she said.
  “Barron?”
  “You were down, Lieutenant,” the former bondsman 
  said. “Sergeant Lyons was having trouble standing. There 
  was nothing else to be done.”
  “I’m not dressing you down, kid,” Samson said with a chuckle.
  “We disregarded zellbrigen,” Barron said.
  “Aff .” Samson quieted the alarms screaming for his attention. “Just like 
  bandits.”
  “Neg,” Barron said. “Like Dragoons, quiaff ?”
  Samson laughed. “Unity, kid. Finally.” He turned the Black Hawk and started to 
  hobble back toward the opening in the trees. “Let’s go get Cruz.”
  “Unity,” Barron said hesitantly. “I begin to see.”
  “There’s hope for you yet, kid,” Lyons said. She shuffl  ed her battered, one-
  armed Hatchetman into line. “Let’s go.”
  “…until we all shall fall…” whispered across the radio.
  ARTIST: EARL GEIER
  PUBLICATION: THE BATTLETECH COMPENDIUM 
  YEAR: 1990
  the power connections
  damaged already-fused
  pit.
  t the
  hat…
  led t
  s sna
  s dis
  i
  owin
  but 
  n 
  re 
  chuc
  tenti
  lack 
  et C
  ed h
  g
  y
  e Black Hawk lurch—
  k
  …
  the balky Black Hawk
  agging—the elbow is
  splay. The Marauder’s
  I h d
  ng. It had 
  it 
  kle.
  ion. “Just like 
  Hawk and started to
  k
  ruz.”
  er battered, one-
  ARTIST: DUANE LOOSE
  PUBLICATION: TECHNICAL READOUT: 3058 UPGRADE
  YEAR: 2006
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  69
  
  T H E  B L A C K  W I D O W
  ARTIST: STEVE VENTERS
  PUBLICATION: MECHWARRIOR: THE 
  BATTLETECH ROLE PLAYING GAME
  YEAR: 1986
  ARTIST: TODD MARSH
  PUBLICATION: TALES OF THE BLACK 
  WIDOW COMPANY
  YEAR: 1985
  ARTIST: DOUG SHULER
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH CAMO SPECS
  YEAR: 1988
  CK 
  ARTIST: STEVE VENTERS
  PUBLICATION: MECHWARRIOR: TH
  BATTLETECH ROLE PLAYING GAME
  BATTLETECH ROLE PLAYING GAME
  YEAR: 1986
  HE 
  ARTIST: DOUG SHULER
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH
  YEAR: 1988
  ARTIST: LIZ DANFORTH
  PUBLICATION: MORE TALES OF THE BLACK WIDOW
  YEAR: 1990
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  70
  
  T H E  B L A C K  W I D O W
  ARTIST: TIM BRADSHEET
  PUBLICATION: MORE TALES OF THE BLACK WIDOW
  YEAR: 1990
  ART
  ART
  ARTIST
  IST
  IST T: T: TIM
  IM
  IM BRA
  R
  BRA
  BRADSH
  DSH
  DSH
  DSHEET
  EET
  EET
  EET
  In any fi ctional setting with a pantheon of characters, every fan 
  gravitate towards a favorite: Boba Fett and Darth Vader, James T. Kirk, 
  Wolverine, and so on. These characters encapsulate everything that 
  makes a particular setting cool. What’s more, they kick butt, don’t take 
  prisoners and are the ultimate male/female; you want to date them 
  but you’re afraid they’ll break your arm if you try a move. 
  For the BattleTech universe, with its legions of characters literally 
  of every stripe, there is still one that stands above the rest: Natasha 
  Kerensky. Sexy, deadly, uncouth, enigmatic. From the moment the Tales 
  of the Black Company scenario pack was published, Natasha Kerensky 
  took center stage as the ultimate warrior, with an unknown history 
  and an attitude of “gun you down or kiss you.” As the BattleTech story 
  unfolded across the years and the secrets of her past were revealed, 
  she became, if possible, even more powerful and alluring. Her call-
  sign, the Black Widow, a perfect totem for the perfect warrior. 
  There are numerous fantastic characters in BattleTech, many with 
  just as long and storied histories: Morgan Kell, Yorinaga Kurita, Kai 
  Allard-Liao. And additional characters are added continuously as the 
  ever-changing, epic storyline continues, some of who will become fan 
  favorites. 
  Yet they’re all measured against the Black Widow and her 
  Warhammer.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  71
  
   
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  72
  
   
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATIONS: CLASSIC BATTLETECH 
  INTRODUCTORY BOX SET AND TOTAL WARFARE
  YEAR: 2006/2007
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  73
  
  A  L I T T L E  P I E C E  O F  W A R
  ARTIST: STEVE VENTERS
  PUBLICATION: THE BATTLETECH COMPENDIUM
  YEAR: 1990
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  74
  
  A  L I T T L E  P I E C E  O F  W A R
  Cluster, have been assigned the task of rooting out and destroying these guerrillas. 
  And you, Point Commander Einar, with your Elementals, will track them for us. 
  You will trail them to their lair and destroy them. If in your judgment the enemy 
  proves to be too strong, you will pin them in place until the rest of the Cluster 
  arrives to wipe them out.”
  For a moment Einar was silent.
  “Star Captain, I appreciate the honor you do me, and your confi dence in my 
  THULE CITY
  THULE
  GHOST BEAR OCCUPATION ZONE
  22 MAY 3050
  Acrid fumes from burning petrochemicals, melted wiring and charred fl esh 
  rose up to sting Elemental Point Commander Einar’s eyes. Not fi ve meters from 
  where he stood a bomb had shredded a captured hover transport—and its cargo 
  of technicians and dismounted Ghost Bear warriors—to a stinking mass of seared 
  metal and charred fl esh.
  Though genetically engineered and specifi cally bred for size and strength, 
  inured to the sight and sound of a battlefi eld and trained to ignore all else, Einar 
  was human. Caustic vapors still burned the sensitive membranes of his eyes. 
  With a snort of disgust, he slammed the visor of his heavy powered armor closed, 
  cutting off  the stench of the smoldering wreck, and with it the eye-smarting 
  chemical-laden smoke.
  It had been two months since Clan Ghost Bear and their cousins swept across 
  the Periphery and into the Inner Sphere to capture Thule from the barbarians who 
  held it. And, in those two months, those barbarians had begun to learn how to 
  fi ght.  They had destroyed the garrison forces the Ghost Bears had left behind and 
  forced Alpha Galaxy to return again. Still, there was little honor in the way they 
  fought, as the burning hover truck proved. Reports were coming in from every 
  world conquered by the Clans. It was the same everywhere. Instead of facing up to 
  the Crusading Clans, in open and honorable combat and conceding defeat once 
  they had been beaten, the Inner Sphere surats took to the hills, and continued their 
  resistance. They launched hit-and-run raids on lightly protected repair facilities. 
  They planted bombs and vibration-sensitive mines to kill men and destroy ‘Mechs. 
  They sniped at leaders, technicians and dismounted warriors. There had even been 
  reports that, in some quarters, some Inner Sphere cowards had crept into barracks 
  and encampments to cut the throats of Clan warriors as they slept.
  Here on Thule, things had been little diff erent. The troops of the Free Rasalhague 
  Republic had shown themselves to be of little better quality than the rawest 
  trainees or the bandits who tried to stand in the way of the Clans as they raced 
  each other for the prize of being the fi rst to liberate Terra. The second round of 
  fi ghting across Thule’s icy southern plains had ended days ago yet the blood of 
  Clan warriors was still being shed in the snow by guerrillas. The vehicle bomb 
  which had just detonated in the heart of Thule City, the planetary capital, was 
  something new in Einar’s experience. It was cowardly murder and nothing more.
  “Freebirth!” Einar cursed through clenched teeth, so great was his rage and 
  frustration at the barbarians who preferred assassination to honorable combat. 
  “You said something, Point Commander Einar?”
  “Apologies, Star Captain Arden Vong,” Einar spoke slowly in response to his 
  immediate superior’s polite reproof. “My outrage against these stravag attacks 
  got the better of me. It shall not happen again.”
  “Indeed, Point Commander Einar.” The tone of Vong’s reply gave no hint of the 
  meaning of her words. Was the Star Captain accepting Einar’s assurances of his 
  future control of his emotions, or sharing his anger at the dishonorable murder 
  of her comrades?
  “Since you feel this way, Point Commander, you will be pleased to know that Khan 
  DelVillar has decided to put an end to these attacks. She has come to believe these 
  attacks are not the work of the local populace, but are the last vestiges of defi ance 
  by the Rasalhague military who failed to defend Thule. What they could not hold 
  through force of arms, they now seek to deny to us through arson and murder.”
  Vong paused. Einar had detected rising anger in her tone, and he knew she was 
  now mastering her emotions.
  Though he may rage
  The wise bear fi ghts from the head
  Not from the heart…
  … Or so held The Remembrance, the epic poem which told the tale of the Clans, 
  and imparted wisdom to the children of Kerensky.
  “We, Point Commander,” Vong resumed, “and by that I mean the Fiftieth Strike 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  75
  THULE
  World Name:
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  Position in System:
  Time to Jump Point:
  Number of Satellites:
  Surface Gravity:
  Atm. Pressure:
  Equatorial Temperature:
  Surface Water Coverage: 
  Recharging Station:
  HPG Class Type:
  Highest Native Life:
  Population Size (3050):
  Socio-Industrial Levels:
  A chilly world on the Periphery border, Thule is a sparsely 
  populated planet. A former member of the Principality of 
  Rasalhague, Thule was captured along with the rest of the 
  Kingdom by Shiro Kurita’s armies. Considered unimportant by 
  many and strategically worthless by others, the world avoided 
  the destruction of the Succession Wars through its isolated 
  location. Even the Ronin War bypassed Thule. Despite being the 
  target of frequent bandit raiding, war only truly came to Thule in 
  March 3050 when Clan Ghost Bear captured the world. 
  Thule has three major continents: southern Vik, equatorial 
  Akranes, and northern Husavik. Thule City, the world’s capital, 
  is situated toward the south of Vik, along with Thule’s primary 
  starport. To the north lies the Fresdon Plain, and within it the 
  treacherous broken terrain of the Fresdon Desert. Here the 
  Free Rasalhague Republic’s First Hussars valiantly attempted 
  to defend the world against elements from three Galaxies, 
  before escaping via the Great Fresdonian River onto the world’s 
  oceans.
  Located within the world’s temperate regions, Akranes is lightly 
  populated and mostly given over to agriculture and vacation 
  spots. Husavik is a frigid wasteland, home to isolated research 
  stations and Thulian bears.
  c
  p
  t
  n
  u
  c
  e
  t
  d
  y
  d
  a
  c
  o
  u
   
  h
  a
  a
  .
  a
  m
  e
  t
  r
  l
  H
  s
  o
  d
  h
  0
  f
  E
  r
  d
  u
  d
  y 
  d
  o
  N
  s
  i
  W
  a
  e
  G
  J
  e
  a
  U
  g
  b
  h
  w
  t
  w
  u
  o
  a
  S
  T
  a
  r
  r
  i
  v
  y
  S
  e
  e
  r
  v
  a
  p
  y
  e
  :
  L
  R
  e
  o
  t
  e
  n
  b
  R
  f
  e
  n
  L
  3
  i
  o
  o
  e
  i
  m
  a
  u
  e
  n
  j
  n
  d
  n
  e
  t
  s
  f
  e
  s
  0
  a
  u
  :
  T
  s
  n
  t
  t
  s
  c
  o
  i
  a
  c
  t
  a
  a
  e
  e
  s
  t
  F
  n
  B
  ,
  p
  s
  s
  e
  e
  m
  e
  u
  F
  d
  u
  s
  r
  e
  W
  C
  b
  b
  d
  P
  g
  i
  u
  y
  h
  s
  e
  i
  e
  a
  D
  ,
  t
  h
  r
  y
  r
  t
  e
  h
  h
  h
  t
  e
  d
  h
  o
  V
  w
  m
  p
  h
  w
  n
  e
  P
  t
  H
  h
  s
  s
  d
  o
  b
  d
  o
  s
  i
  p
  t 
  m
  p
  o
  u
  g
  a
  n
  y
  r
  populated planet. A former member of the Principality of 
  Kingdom by Shiro Kurita’s armies
  Considered unimportant by
  y
  g
  y
  y
  Thule has three major continents: southern Vik
  equatoria
  T
  ocation Even the Ron n War bypassed Thule Despite be ng the
  i
  ’
  h
  T
  h
  ki
  V
  f
  h
  h
  d
  d
  i
  starport. To the north lies the Fresdon Plain, and within it the
  s
  R
  lh
  R
  bli ’
  Fi
  t H
  li
  tl
  tt
  t d
  Socio Industrial Levels:
  S
  Highest Native Life:
  S
  f
  W t
  C
  S
  Atm. Pressure:
  Ti
  t
  J
  P i t
  T
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  S
  THULE
  T
  A LITTLE PIECE OF WAR
  T H O M A S  G R E S S M A N
  
  A  L I T T L E  P I E C E  O F  W A R
  Einar preferred a ‘Mech-killing laser, but left the individual choice of weapons 
  up to his warriors. Ranulf and Thea imitated their commander by choosing the 
  laser. Jurusk liked a rotary-barrel machine gun. Carlo took an almost un-Clanlike 
  delight in using a fl amer as his primary weapon. 
  Completing the Elemental’s deadly complement was a 
  dual-tube missile launch pack, set high up above the 
  armor’s shoulders. The whole eff ect was to give the 
  Elemental the silhouette of a demon out of old 
  Terran myth.
  Though Einar held no belief in supernatural 
  beings of any stripe, he knew most of his 
  Inner Sphere foes did. If the outline of his 
  Elemental powered armor gave him a 
  psychological edge over his enemy, so 
  much the better.
  ▲▼▲
  “Contact!”
  Einar recognized Elemental 
  Thea’s voice. Before she could 
  elaborate, a deep stuttering 
  bark echoed among the 
  snow-covered rocks. About 
  thirty meters to his left, Einar 
  saw clouds of dust spout and 
  rocks go bounding crazily into the air 
  as a burst of autocannon fi re missed 
  its target, the shells ricocheting off  the 
  boulders.
  “Contact, left! Action left front!” Thea 
  continued. “Light armor and infantry in 
  defi lade!”
  The sharp crack-whoosh of a missile launcher 
  interrupted her report.
  “I count three armored vehicles and about 
  twenty infantry. No BattleMechs, I repeat, no 
  ‘Mechs.”
  “Understood,” Einar barked. “Thea, Carlo, hold position and 
  give us suppressing fi re. Jurusk, Ranulf, we will attack the enemy’s 
  fl ank en echelon. Now!”
  Almost immediately, a harsh whip-crack sounded as Thea fi red her laser. A 
  brace of twisting smoke trails followed the laser’s brilliance as short-range missiles 
  smashed into the enemy, who were still concealed from Einar’s sight.
  To the Point Commander’s right, Ranulf triggered his powered armor’s jump 
  pack, throwing the Elemental thirty meters forward before he touched the 
  ground again. Ranulf turned sharply left and leapt again. At the same moment, 
  Einar bounded forward, but only half as far as his subordinate before likewise 
  turning in toward the still hidden enemy. As he triggered his jump pack, he saw 
  Ranulf savage a hover tank with his laser.
  Saracen, I think they call it, Einar noted, seeing the missile launch tubes stacked 
  in a fl exible mount on the vehicle’s back.
  Before Einar could assess the damage Ranulf had done to the Saracen his jet-
  assisted leap passed its high point, and he dropped back to the rocky surface. On 
  his right, Jurusk’s heavy machine gun was already chattering away, spitting death 
  and tracers into a hastily-prepared foxhole full of unarmored infantrymen.
  Einar’s lips curled in an ironic smile as he remembered Khan DeVillar’s words 
  when Alpha Galaxy came to Thule. At seeing how the First Husars had dug in, 
  occupying a series of trenches, the Khan said, “How polite of you to spare us the 
  eff ort of digging your graves.” 
  Leaning forward, Einar threw his Elemental suit into a heavy lumbering run. He’d 
  gone only a few jarring paces when he spotted the plank-like shape of a hovertank. 
  Before Einar could stop or change direction, the tank’s turret swung toward him, 
  revealing the long slim barrel of an autocannon. The weapon thumped, spitting 
  a stream of explosive shells at Einar, but the Rasalhague gunner had been in too 
  much of a hurry to get in the fi rst shot. The shells detonated among the stones 
  warriors, but I must protest. This is not a job worthy of Trueborn warriors. It is a 
  task for our follow-on forces, for provisional garrison Clusters, or even for solahma 
  troops.”
  “That may be true, Point Commander Einar.” The silky tone of 
  Vong’s reply was more fi tting a Nova Cat or Steel Viper than a 
  Ghost Bear. “However, these orders come directly from 
  Khan DelVillar.
  “Muster your Point. You have three hours with 
  which to equip yourselves. I leave the outfi tting 
  of your Elementals to your discretion. When 
  you are ready, you may begin. You will keep 
  me advised of your position and of the 
  progress of your mission. That is all, 
  Point Commander Einar.”
  ▲▼▲
  “Point 
  Commander 
  Einar. The trail dies in the 
  rocks less than three 
  kilometers ahead. These 
  savashri hills are swept by 
  this never-ending gale. 
  There is no snow, and the 
  ground is frozen—almost 
  permafrost. It holds no 
  track of man or machine.”
  Einar looked up the long, 
  boulder-strewn grade to where 
  Elemental Jurusk stood indicating 
  the higher slope with his battle 
  armor’s clawed left arm.
  The 
  mind-numbing 
  search 
  had 
  crisscrossed the hilly terrain north and east of 
  Thule City. Eventually, Jurusk, the Elemental 
  Point’s de facto scout, picked up a series of faint 
  and intermittent signs. With the certainty of an 
  experienced predator, Jurusk knew this was the trail of 
  the guerrillas who had murdered his comrades.
  “Thermal sensors have been unable to pick up any trace of the 
  enemy,” Jurusk continued. “It is so cold that any heat is drained away before it has 
  the chance to take hold.”
  “We must continue.” Einar gave the order after a moment’s deliberation. 
  “Though the trail has wound around hills and through ravines, they have kept 
  up a general east-by-north heading. We will fan out in a hunting line and keep an 
  east-by-north heading. We should cross their trail again soon.
  “Jurusk, you are the center of the line. The rest of us will form on you. Thea and 
  Carlo to the left, Ranulf and I to the right.
  “Go carefully. I would not put it beyond these surats to have left vibrabombs in 
  their wake. I have no wish to lose any of you.”
  Einar’s warning about vibrabombs, powerful tremor-sensing land mines which 
  could be detonated by the vibrations of a passing BattleMech or vehicle, was not 
  truly necessary. Each of the four Elementals knew the Rasalhague guerrillas had 
  made free use of the passive weapons, sowing them by the score in alleyways, 
  farm fi elds, and along major traffi  c routes. Though the mines seldom killed 
  MechWarriors—crippling their machines instead—a correctly-set vibrabomb 
  would explode directly under the feet of a passing Elemental. Such explosions 
  were usually fatal.
  Brief choruses of “aff ” sounded from the three men and one woman of his 
  Elemental point as the battle-hardened warriors took up an extended line-abreast 
  formation. Each warrior spaced about fi ve meters between himself and his mates. 
  Any more or any less and they ran an increased risk of missing the enemy’s trail 
  when and if it should reappear.
  For a moment Einar watched his Elementals climbing up the rocky slope. He 
  was intensely proud of his Point. Each had proven themselves to be skilled and 
  cunning warriors. 
  Completing the Elementals d
  dual-tube missile launch p
  armor’s shoulders. The 
  Elemental the silho
  Terran myth.
  Though Einar 
  beings of any s
  Inner Sphere f
  Elemental p
  psychologi
  much the
  t
  sa
  rocks g
  as a bur
  its target
  boulders.
  “Contact, 
  continued. “L
  defi lade!”
  The sharp crack-
  interrupted her rep
  “I count three a
  twenty infantry. No
  ‘Mechs.”
  “Understood”Einar barked “T
  g a Nova Cat or Steel Viper than a 
   orders come directly from 
  ave three hours with 
  I leave the outfi tting 
  r discretion. When
  in. You will keep
  n and of the 
  That is all, 
  r 
  long,
  where 
  ndicating
  his battle 
  search 
  had 
  orth and east of 
  k, the Elemental 
  up a series of faint 
  h the certainty of an
  k knew this was the trail of 
  ered his comrades
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  76
  
  A  L I T T L E  P I E C E  O F  W A R
  PUBLICATION: THE BATTLETECH COMPENDIUM
  YEAR: 1990
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  77
  
  A  L I T T L E  P I E C E  O F  W A R
  ARTIST: EARL GEIER
  PUBLICATION: THE BATTLE FOR TWYCROSS
  YEAR: 1990
  The long bound ended when his steel-booted feet slammed down on the 
  Scimitar’s rear hull. Einar stooped. With one scything swing of his left arm, he 
  clawed a long ragged gash in the tough fabric of the tank’s hover skirt. The tank 
  lurched as part of its air cushion bled away, but that minor wound alone would 
  not bring the armored vehicle down.
  The gunner swung the turret, apparently hoping to sweep Einar off  the 
  tank’s hull with the long gun barrel. The Rasalhague tanker had not counted on 
  the agility of the Clan-designed Elementals. Einar jumped from the hull deck 
  to the top of the turret as easily as an unarmored man might walk up a fl ight 
  of steps.
  Kneeling again, he fi red into the engine cover which had already been 
  dented in by the impact of the heavy Elemental armor’s landing. The abused 
  steel grating screeched in protest and gave way. At least some of the laser’s 
  energy leaked through. The tank’s engine coughed and stuttered like a man 
  struck a hard blow to the solar plexus. Einar spared it no more of his attention.
  He turned on his knees. Grasping the tank commander’s hatch with the 
  suit’s claw, Einar heaved. The thick armored plug remained in place. Einar gave 
  a second pull and then a third and the hatch cover peeled away. Casting aside 
  the mangled steel disk, Einar thrust his left arm into the Scimitar’s fi ghting 
  compartment and triggered the anti-personnel machine gun mounted behind 
  the claw.
  Steel-cored bullets caromed and whined off  the inside of the tank’s armor. 
  The vehicle lurched again, but this time it was no mere fl inch of mechanical 
  pain. It was the thrashing of a living, but wounded, beast whose brain had 
  died. 
  Einar leapt from the Scimitar’s turret and turned in time to see the tank, its 
  crew dead at their stations, crash into a rock outcropping and fl ip onto its side. 
  The hover tank’s unseen lift fans still spun at nearly full power, blowing dirt and 
  small stones outward in a coarse expanding cloud, but they would never again 
  drive the combat vehicle. Not in the service of the Rasalhague Republic.
  Einar scanned the battlefi eld and spotted a pair of unarmored infantrymen 
  hunkered in a shallow trench. They were struggling to replace the bulky twin-
  chambered launch cartridge of a portable missile launcher. The enhanced 
  vision of his Elemental suit’s visor revealed the noses of the stubby projectiles 
  to be red.
  Infernos.
  Einar again brought his machine gun into play. Tracers tore into the dirt 
  along the rim of the foxhole and walked up the body of the soldier holding the 
  missile launcher. Before the loader could snatch up the weapon and unleash 
  the incendiary warheads on his tormenter, Einar’s laser blew him in half.
  Before the dead man hit the ground Einar was scanning for another target. 
  He found none. The bodies of conventional infantrymen were scattered all 
  across the rocky slope. About two-hundred meters from where he stood, the 
  Saracen rested on its collapsed skirts, smoke pouring from its open hatches. A 
  pair of tracked APCs sat undamaged in a shallow defi le, abandoned by their 
  crews.
  “Report,” he barked into his commlink.
  One by one, his warriors responded with variations on the same message: 
  the enemy had been destroyed.
  “Very well.” Einar looked again at the dead missile team. After the fi ght with 
  the Scimitar, destroying the unarmored infantrymen had been anti-climactic. 
  Not every battle culminated in a grand duel between commanders. Most often 
  they petered out as attrition took its toll.
  Unfortunately for Einar, the ambush had cost his Point. No warrior had 
  been lost, but a few more than half of the Point’s anti-armor missiles had 
  been expended. With no way to replace them in the fi eld, the Point would be 
  hampered in its eff ectiveness if they encountered heavier armor or BattleMechs. 
  Still, it never occurred to Einar to turn back for new supplies. He had been given 
  an assignment, and he would not return until he had fulfi lled his mission. If that 
  meant shedding his armor and fi ghting with tooth and claw, as does the Bear, 
  he would do so.
  “Fan out.” Einar pointed at the APCs. “The enemy infantry arrived in those 
  two tracked carriers. They must have left signs we can follow. I want to locate 
  these surats before nightfall. I want to destroy them as soon as we can. I want 
  to end this stravag mission and get back to fi ghting worthy of a real warrior, not 
  chasing honorless guerrillas across these cursed hills.”
  behind Einar, passing over his high-mounted missile launchers. Einar skidded 
  to a halt, dropped his targeting reticle into place over the vehicle’s hull. He 
  waited for a heartbeat until the circular indicator fl ashed green, indicating a 
  lock, and pressed the trigger.
  One salvo of his short-range anti-armor missiles streaked across the sixty 
  meters separating Einar and the tank, which he now recognized as a Scimitar. The 
  warheads plowed into the vehicle’s hull, shattering armor, but accomplishing 
  little else. Einar added a bolt of laser fi re, and triggered his jump jets again, 
  before the enemy gunner could do a better job of lining up his sights.
  The Point Commander’s leap carried him to his right. Then, as the Rasalhague 
  tank crew pivoted their vehicle on its cushion of air to follow the massive 
  Elemental, Einar jumped again, this time to his left.
  YEAR: 1990
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  78
  
  A  L I T T L E  P I E C E  O F  W A R
  enemy machines they expected to face. It took Einar a moment, but he recognized 
  the high-combed, boxy head of a Centurion.
  “Elemental Jurusk, you and Elemental Ranulf will move in as close as you feel 
  practical to the enemy camp. You will gather information and report back to 
  me. I do not want you to engage the enemy at this time. There is at least one 
  BattleMech down there. If it is alone, we might be able to engage and destroy 
  these surats. If there are more ‘Mechs, it would wasteful to throw ourselves into 
  this fi ght. As much as I would like to destroy these cowardly murderers ourselves, 
  if they are too strong, we will have to call for Star Captain Arden Vong and our 
  own ‘Mech forces.”
  “Understood, Point Commander Einar.” The disappointment may not have been 
  plain in Jurusk’s voice, but there was an underlying tone of that emotion. Briefl y, 
  Einar wondered if he should speak to his subordinate when they returned to their 
  base at Thule City. Perhaps in studying the enemy and his culture, as Jurusk was 
  wont to do, the Elemental was becoming contaminated by the weaknesses of the 
  Inner Sphere.
  Einar shook his head. The movement, though invisible behind his visor, was 
  betrayed by a slight swaying of the Elemental armor. Jurusk was an experienced 
  warrior, descended from a proud bloodline. He could no more be contaminated by 
  the weak and hedonistic culture of the Inner Sphere than could the Khan herself.
  “Very well, Elemental, proceed.”
  Jurusk motioned to Ranulf, and the pair slipped away into the descending 
  gloom.
  ▲▼▲
  Less than an hour later, the pair returned from the reconnaissance. Their report 
  was not good.
  “Point Commander, the enemy camp is laid out thus.” Jurusk grasped a heavy 
  stick in his armor’s clawed hand. With it, he sketched out a crude diagram of the 
  guerrillas’ laager. 
  “They are protected to the east and the south by the ridge, and by that spur 
  there. The ground to the north and west is broken but passable, with the roughest 
  terrain being to the north. There are six armored vehicles of various types drawn 
  up here.” Jurusk indicated the northwest corner of the camp. “The heaviest of 
  ▲▼▲
  The trail left by the cleated steel tracks of the armored personnel carriers was 
  indeed easy to fi nd. That did not mean that it was easy to follow. At fi rst, the 
  signs led southward away from the battle area. After a dozen kilometers, the trail 
  curved wide around a burnt-out village and resumed the east-by-north heading 
  the Elementals had followed away from their base.
  “Point Commander Einar,” Elemental Carlo said, surveying the wrecked homes 
  and charred shops of the settlement. “I had not realized our operations had 
  extended this far into the hills.”
  “They have not, Elemental Carlo, not until now. These barbarians, like lower 
  caste children, believe if they cannot possess something, no one shall.” Einar’s 
  anger fl ared at the wastefulness of burning villages in the wake of a retreat. “It is 
  a useless tradition stemming back to ancient Terran history. If you cannot take it 
  with you, put it to the torch. Now we see how willing these savashri barbarians 
  are to destroy what they cannot hold. We see again that they cannot hold to a 
  batchall. Our bid was for the whole planet and everything it held. And again, they 
  have broken the terms of the batchall.
  “The sooner the children of Kerensky crush these cowards, and drive them from 
  Terra, the better it will be for all.”
  “Point Commander Einar.” Jurusk’s voice. Einar had sent him out ahead to 
  pick up the trail. “There are several trails leading to and from this village. I 
  had to follow each of them a distance in an eff ort to sort them out. I believe I 
  have isolated the correct tracks. We may proceed whenever you are ready.”
  “Very well, Jurusk. Well done.” Satisfaction was plain in Einar’s voice. “Hold your 
  position, the rest of us will join you soon.”
  ▲▼▲
  “You see here, Point Commander, this set of tracks. These were made by one of 
  the armored personnel carriers we saw back there. One of them has a large chip 
  out of one of the cleats on its right side.” Jurusk pointed to an indentation left in 
  the half frozen soil by one of the APCs treads. Where all of the other impressions 
  were relatively clear, this one had a long jagged ridge running from center left 
  to upper right. The ridge had been formed when a cleat with a matching void 
  space was pressed into the ground by the weight of the carrier. The marks were 
  distinctive, making it certain that these tracks were the same ones the Elementals 
  had been following since the ambush.
  Einar nodded. “Well done Elemental Jurusk. I shall make note of your 
  performance when I make my report to Star Captain Arden Vong.”
  Jurusk’s armored head bobbed as he bowed his gratitude to his Commander. 
  Einar was not stingy with acknowledgements when his troops performed well. If 
  they won glory, there was glory for him as well as their Point Commander.
  “We shall continue on,” he said straightening from where he crouched over 
  tracks. “Jurusk, you shall lead. Follow the signs and direct us how we should go. 
  But remember, these warriors have no honor. Beware of traps. Beware of mines. I 
  have no wish to lose any of you needlessly.”
  “Aff , Point Commander.” There was a touch of almost un-Clanlike irony in Jurusk’s 
  voice. He did not say it, but every Elemental in Einar’s point—Einar included—
  knew what Jurusk was thinking.
  You are perfectly willing to lose us if the needs of the Clan so dictate.
  ▲▼▲
  “There, Point Commander Einar, do you see them?”
  “I see them, Elemental Jurusk.” The pair of unarmored infantrymen were barely 
  visible in the gathering darkness, but a fl ick of a control turned the world seen 
  through the viewscreen of his Elemental armor into an otherworldly vista of false 
  colors. The thermal viewer let Einar see the men clearly where they were standing 
  sentry at the point of a long, high spur of rock which projected from the side of a 
  ridge, like a buttress from a cathedral. 
  Behind them, almost masked by the three-meter-high spur, Einar could just 
  make out the head and shoulders of an Inner Sphere BattleMech. Lacking the 
  space for some of the luxuries of its larger cousins, Elemental armor did not 
  boast the detailed “warbook” database available to those warriors who piloted 
  OmniMechs. Elementals were forced by necessity to memorize the details of the 
  ARTIST: MATT WILSON
  PUBLICATION: FIELD MANUAL: WARDEN CLANS
  YEAR: 1998
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  79
  
  A  L I T T L E  P I E C E  O F  W A R
  ARTIST: JEFF LAUBENSTEIN
  PUBLICATION: WOLF CLAN SOURCEBOOK
  YEAR: 1991
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  80
  
  A  L I T T L E  P I E C E  O F  W A R
  them is an old Goblin. We estimate there to be approximately fi fty unarmored 
  infantry in the camp.”
  “How did you arrive at that estimate, Elemental Jurusk?”
  “Because, Point Commander Einar, that is the usual infantry support complement 
  for four BattleMechs.” Ranulf answered for his comrade.
  Jurusk confi rmed Ranulf’s statement.
  “Yes, Point Commander, I saw a full Star … or lance, as they call them … of 
  BattleMechs, here.” Jurusk drew a handful of small circles in the center of the 
  enemy camp. “I believe the Rasalhague troops wish to protect their ‘Mechs, those 
  being the most valuable assets they have.”
  “Aff .” Einar agreed. “We cannot eff ectively attack this encampment. We must 
  therefore hold our position and observe the enemy, and call for heavy ‘Mech 
  forces to deal with these barbarians.
  “Elemental Thea, you will have fi rst watch. Find a good spot to observe, but do 
  your best to stay out of sight. Jurusk, Ranulf, you have done well. Take your rest. I 
  will contact Star Captain Arden Vong.”
  ▲▼▲
  Vong’s answer to Einar’s report was curt, and merely confi rmed her earlier 
  orders. “Hold position, observe, do not allow the enemy to escape. We will come 
  up as quickly as we may.”
  ▲▼▲
  The weak sunlight of evening had failed completely, plunging the enemy camp 
  into complete darkness. The guerrillas might as well have been walking about 
  in broad daylight for all diff erence it made to the Elementals. Their visors were 
  equipped with the fi nest night vision equipment the Ghost Bears’ scientist caste 
  could design. They could watch the enemy using thermal or light amplifi cation 
  viewers while remaining hidden in the shadows of a moonless night. The 
  Elementals’ weapons were vastly superior to anything the Inner Sphere could 
  fi eld, and man-for-man, the genetically engineered, selectively-bred Clan warriors 
  were superior in every way to their enemy.
  But, every soldier knows that Dame Fortune will always play a role in any battle. 
  On this night, her inconstant favors preferred Rasalhague to Clan Ghost Bear.
  “Freebirth!” The oath cutting across the commlink was punctuated by a ripping 
  bust of machine gun fi re. Einar and his troops jolted from their rest. A second 
  burst of fi re was answered by a weaker, lighter third.
  “Report!” Einar roared.
  “Point Commander,” Carlo answered. “A stravag patrol all but tripped over me. I 
  tried to eliminate them quietly, but they fi red on me. I have eliminated the patrol, 
  but am now taking automatic rifl e fi re from inside the enemy camp.
  “I am afraid, Point Commander, we no longer have the option of waiting for Star 
  Commander Arden Vong.”
  “Understood.” Einar’s voice dropped into a snarl. A glance at the chronometer 
  built into the heads-up display of his helmet read thirty-fi ve minutes past local 
  midnight. According to Arden Vong’s estimate the ‘Mech forces should be arriving 
  at Einar’s position within the hour.
  “Attention to orders. We have been discovered. We cannot allow the enemy 
  to escape. We will make every eff ort to pin him here until our comrades arrive. 
  Every warrior will push forward into the enemy camp. We will kill as many of his 
  warriors, and destroy as many of his machines as we are able. Our primary target 
  is those BattleMechs.
  “I realize we have depleted our missiles, but we are still Ghost Bears. We are 
  strong. We are fearless. We shall maul these barbarians, and we shall have 
  victory.
  “Attack!”
  At Einar’s roared order, the Elementals leapt into action.
  Einar saw a trio of soldiers running trough the camp towards the parked tanks. 
  A long burst of tracers from the machine gun mounted on his left arm chopped 
  them down before they’d gone halfway. To make sure the tanks were out of 
  commission, Einar blasted each of the armored vehicles with several bolts from 
  his suit’s laser. Though no one vehicle suff ered fatal damage it was enough to 
  make any tank crew think twice before mounting up.
  Second thoughts on a battlefi eld were often fatal.
  Turning his attention away from the tanks, Einar waded into the enemy camp. 
  Twice infantrymen sought to bar his way. Twice they fell to Einar’s weapons.
  Now, let the full fury of the Ghost Bear run wild.
  Now, let his fangs bite, and his talons rend.
  Now, let him feast on the bodies of those who would hunt him.
  Never before had the words of The Remembrance rung so true in Einar’s heart 
  as on this night. 
  The shape of the Rasalhague Centurion rose up in Einar’s viewscreen. Einar’s 
  laser-targeting reticle came up over the ’Mech’s heart. A second later, the nearly-
  invisible bolt of amplifi ed light burned across the darkened battlefi eld to slash 
  into the Centurion’s left breast. Einar added a second bolt of laser fi re to the 
  damage he’d already infl icted on the enemy machine. Armor slagged and ran like 
  thick syrup under the beam’s caress. 
  Einar threw himself into a run and, three long bounding strides later, triggered 
  his jump jets. The Elemental rose high into the night air, giving him a brief aerial 
  view of the battlefi eld. Tracers and laser fi re crisscrossed the enemy camp. One of 
  the Rasalhague ’Mechs, possibly an old-model Assassin, was already active and 
  moving. 
  Perhaps these barbarians are not so stupid after all. It seems they have had the 
  sense to keep at least one of their ’Mech powered up and ready for battle.
  There was no time for more observation. Einar’s leap had carried him clear of 
  the Centurion and into that ’Mech’s rear. Whirling with far more grace than would 
  have been thought credible, given the sheer bulk of the Elemental suit, Einar 
  savaged the Centurion’s weaker back armor with both laser and machine gun. A 
  single scarlet thread lanced out from the enemy ’Mech’s spine, but Einar’s small, 
  agile Elemental armor was too fast for the ’Mech’s pilot to track. The  medium laser 
  blasted into the frozen ground.
   The Elemental Point Commander touched the control to bring his one 
  remaining missile salvo into play. As the targeting sight drifted across the dark 
  bulk of the Centurion’s back, a fl icker of movement caught Einar’s eye.
  The Ghost Bear warrior saw a lone Rasalhague infantryman rise up from behind 
  a boulder. The man dropped to one knee and aimed a twin-barreled short-range 
  missile launcher at Einar. With the clarity that sometimes accompanies such 
  moments the Clan warrior noticed that the noses of the rockets were painted a 
  dark color. Not the light red of incendiary rounds.
  The infantryman fi red.
  ▲▼▲
  Why is my face cold and wet?
  The thought puzzled Einar mightily, and for a long moment, he could not 
  furnish the answer.
  The stravag missile.
  With a jerk, the Elemental pushed himself to his knees. It took an eff ort of his 
  will to force back the gray clouds, and even more to clamber to his feet. Icy wind 
  whipped across the left side of Einar’s face, driving thin snow through the hole 
  where half of his helmet visor should have been. It felt as though his cheek and 
  scalp on that side had been severely lacerated.
  “The stravag missile.” Fortune had smiled on him. The guerilla’s missile must 
  have struck his armor only a glancing blow. The shaped-charge warhead had 
  ripped open his visor from just above his left eye back to near the mid-point. His 
  heads-up display was dead. Indicator lights told Einar that his laser and machine 
  gun were still functional, but his missile launcher was dead. 
  “Point Commander! You are alive!”
  “Aff ,” Einar barked. “Can you see how badly I may be hurt?”
  “Your helmet and visor are destroyed, as is your left-side missile launcher. There 
  is a gash in the armor on your right thigh.” Thea, like any good warrior, fi rst reported 
  on his capability to continue the fi ght. “Your face is streaked with mud, blood and 
  HarJel. You are very lucky, Point Commander, that the blast did not take your eye.”
  “Aff . I am alive, and can still fi ght. Now, let us return to the battle.”
  “Are we included in your battle plan, Point Commander Einar?”
  “Of course, Star Captain Arden Vong,” Einar replied, turning to face the tall, 
  hunched forward Timber Wolf piloted by his immediate superior. “It is good to 
  have you with us.”
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  81
  
  A  L I T T L E  P I E C E  O F  W A R
  Still the Elemental charged forward. A small object hurtled at him. Grenade 
  fragments clattered off  his armor. Some found their way through the gaping tear 
  in Einar’s helmet. Metal gouged the fl esh of his face and neck, cracked three teeth, 
  and ruined the cartilage of his left ear.
  Then, Einar was among them, and the foes of the Ghost Bear perished.
  ▲▼▲
  “Well, Point Commander Einar, you are resting comfortably?”
  “I am too comfortable, Star Captain Arden Vong.” Einar replied, looking up at 
  his commander from the hard steel and plastic chair he occupied while a fi eld 
  surgeon sealed up the last of his wounds. His wounds were more severe than Einar 
  had initially thought. One piece of shrapnel had penetrated the thick muscles of 
  his neck, stopping only half a centimeter from his carotid artery.
  But it had stopped, and he had killed every one of the guerrillas who challenged 
  him.
  “Huh,” Vong snorted. “You did well, Point Commander. Take time to heal, then 
  return to duty.”
  She spun on her heel and was gone.
  Elemental Thea stepped up to take Vong’s place.
  “So, Point Commander, when will you return to Strana Mechty?”
  “Why should I return to the homeworlds?” Einar asked.
  “You must.” A thin smile creased Thea’s craggy face. “You must undergo The 
  Clawing. If you do not, those facial scars may give people cause to think you have. 
  And deceit is not Clanlike.”
  Thea turned to go, leaving a bark of laughter in her wake.
  “Report.”
  “The enemy is there,” Einar said, gesturing with his armor’s clawed hand. “They 
  are drawn up in laager below that ridge. Four BattleMechs, a few damaged 
  vehicles and unarmored infantry. Our attack scattered them. You should be able 
  to attack straight into the heart of their camp.”
  “Aff , Point Commander Einar.” Vong paused for a moment, and Einar had the 
  distinct feeling she was peering closely at the damage to his Elemental armor.
  “Point Commander, your armor is too badly damaged for you to rejoin the fi ght, 
  and you have won honor enough on this mission. Stay here. Keep watch, and do 
  not allow any of the enemy to break out, quiaff ?”
  For a moment Einar’s spirit rebelled at being assigned to the role of perimeter 
  guard. But he quickly understood that Vong was correct. If he fought now, he 
  would risk his life in a fi ght that was already all-but-won.
  “Aff , Star Captain.”
  Sparing no more words for her subordinate, Vong pointed her Timber Wolf 
  straight into the heart of the Rasalhague camp. Four heavy OmniMechs followed 
  her into the fi ght.
  “Thus perish all who seek to challenge the Ghost Bear,” Einar nodded.
  But the guerrillas seemed determined not to perish easily. Just at the edge of 
  his no-longer-amplifi ed vision, Einar spotted a handful of fi gures slipping from 
  shadow to shadow—fugitives seeking to escape from the battlefi eld rather than 
  face an honorable death, or being taken as isorla by the victors.
  With a roar, Einar launched himself at the enemy. His left arm swung up, its 
  machine gun chattering. A few of the shadowy forms tumbled to the ground. The 
  rest turned, panic showing in their actions, and attacked their attacker.
  Automatic rifl e fi re clawed at him to pock his armored arms and legs. A faint 
  green thread burned through the smoke-laden air to scorch the dark gray paint 
  on his breastplate.
  ARTIST: DAVID MARTIN
  PUBLICATION: INVADING CLANS
  YEAR: 1994
  ARTIST DAVID MARTIN
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  82
  
  A  L I T T L E  P I E C E  O F  W A R
  ARTIST: JEFF LAUBENSTEIN
  PUBLICATION: WOLF CLAN SOURCEBOOK
  YEAR: 1991
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  83
  
  E L E M E N T A L S
  E L E M E N T A L S
  E L E M E N T A L S
  ARTIST: MATT PLOG/CHRIS LEWIS
  PUBLICATION: TECHMANUAL
  YEAR: 2007
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  84
  
  E L E M E N T A L S
  the TOADS
  CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: RICK HARRIS/MECHWARRIOR SECOND EDITION/1991 • JOEL BISKE/WOLF CLAN 
  SOURCEBOOK/1991 • EARL GEIER/THE BATTLETECH COMPENDIUM/1990 • JEFF LAUBENSTEIN/WOLF CLAN 
  SOURCEBOOK/1991 • WILL NICHOLS/A TIME OF WAR: THE BATTLETECH RPG/2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  85
  
  R E M A I N I N G  U N P E R C E I V E D
  ARTIST: KEVIN MCCANN
  PUBLICATION: A GUIDE TO COVERT OPS
  YEAR: 2004
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  86
  
  R E M A I N I N G  U N P E R C E I V E D
  HIAKRU-WELLER TRAINING FACILITY
  HOFF
  DRACONIS MARCH, FEDERATED SUNS
  28 NOVEMBER 3021
  “If anyone mentions effi  ng ninjas to me again, I will effi  ng kill him.”
  “Mickey,” Sol chuckled, slapping me on the back as we shuffl  ed out of the 
  briefi ng room. “You’re taking this stuff  way too seriously.”
  “No, I’m not. We just lost three hours of our lives that we’re never getting back. 
  Three effi  ng hours of ninja might, ninja are said to, and it is believed that ninja . . . 
  Blah, blah, and effi  ng blah. Not a defi nite word about threat potential in the here 
  and now. Just a lot of holovid nonsense tarted up to make the intel boys look like 
  they’re earning their salaries.
  “Why can’t they brief us on the real covert ops threats, eh? What about some 
  data on the effi  ng Death Commandos that old man Liao uses, or Marik’s Eagle 
  Corps. And if they’ve got to bleat about the Kuritan threat, what about giving 
  us the skinny on the effi  ng DEST troopers? Why do we get briefed on fairy-tale 
  assassins and saboteur refugees from Kuritan costume dramas?”
  Sol shrugged. “Forewarned is fore-armed?”
  “It only matters if it’s real. Our own black ops boys are plenty good and can 
  do half those so-called ninjutsu tricks themselves.  Give our guys in the Foxes 
  the right equipment, and they can do most of the rest. Everything else is just 
  dramavid, know-nothing outgassing.  If the brass want us forewarned, why ain’t 
  they warning us about what the real bad guys can do?”
  “We got that brief last year. Remember?” Sol put an arm around my shoulder 
  and whispered conspiratorially. “You know, we didn’t start hearing about black-
  clad bad guy stuff  till them NAIS big shots showed up. I think this bunch of 
  domeheads has got some kinda paranoidal delusional thing going and all this 
  stuff  is just ta keep them happy. Them domeheads from the Institute get a little 
  weird sometimes, and this bunch is weirder than most. You seen the headband 
  their boss wears, right? It’s one of them Kuritan haki-maki things. They say his dad 
  was Kuritan, too. So maybe he got told bedtime stories about ninjas, you know? 
  Scarred him for life kinda thing.”
  Sol was right about the timing. “Maybe you got something there,” I admitted.
  “Sure I am. Anyway, it don’t matter. You and I been working security here for 
  long enough to know that nobody’s spooks are getting in here. Not with us on 
  the job, right?  You know I’m right, old buddy.  The only ninja we’re ever gonna see 
  are the ones in that briefi ng.”
  “You are a dead man.” He didn’t know I was speaking prophetically. “You said 
  that word.”
  Sol smirked. He was sure I wouldn’t fulfi ll my vow and ace him, what with us 
  having been partners since I got to base three years ago. He shouldn’t have been 
  so sure. 
  “I’ll postpone your demise for the moment, but only because I’ve got a date this 
  weekend that I don’t want to miss on account of being in the guardhouse.”
  Sol laughed, long and hard. He kept chuckling the whole way back to barracks. 
  We had the night shift, so we needed to catch some sleep while we could. I lay in 
  my bunk, thinking about what he’d said.
  There really hadn’t been any talk about ninja before the Institute domeheads 
  showed up. Maybe they knew something we didn’t. Well, it was for effi  ng sure they 
  did, being genius scientists and all, but I’m talking about something practical, the 
  sort of thing that might aff ect the life of poor schlumps like Sol and me, who had 
  to guard the high and mighty domeheads and their toys. Or maybe it was what 
  Sol was talking about—one of the eccentricities they were famous for. I have to 
  tell you, my money was on the eccentricity horse in this race. Ninja. I mean, who 
  could look at modern societies and really believe such fossils from Earth’s Middle 
  Ages still existed?
  But the brass was worried about something, because they had doubled staffi  ng 
  since the Institute guys had showed up with that hammer-headed prototype 
  BattleMech they were running on the test courses. You know, that medium 
  chassis with the big old hatchet for a right arm. An effi  ng hatchet. What were they 
  thinking?
  Eccentric? More like crazy.
  Even armed with something as weird as a hatchet, a new BattleMech design is 
  a serious military secret, though. It’s fair cop to be worried about word getting out 
  about it, or anything associated with it. Like that new gizmo that came in two weeks 
  ago, the one that’s supposed to improve BattleMech function. I don’t suppose I’ll 
  ever know what it does. Guards like Sol and me just don’t got no need to know. 
  And you know what else? I don’t really care. That’s not my job. I just keep 
  important stuff  safe. And whatever that gizmo is, it’s important. How do I know 
  that when I don’t know what it is? I’m not stupid, you know. The brass stepped up 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  87
  HOFF
  World Name:
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  Position in System: 4
  Time to Jump Point:
  Number of Satellites: 
  Surface Gravity:
  Atm. Pressure:
  Equatorial Temperature:
  Surface Water Coverage:
  Recharging Station:
  HPG Class Type:
  Highest Native Life:
  Population Size (3021):
  Socio-Industrial Levels:
  Hoff was originally settled for its agricultural potential, though 
  it subsequently industrialized and became a center for advanced 
  technology research. The Succession Wars wrecked the 
  planet’s industrial base and drove it to an unusually primitive 
  state (analogous to Terra’s early 19th century) centuries behind 
  its neighbors, leaving it as a sleepy, agrarian world traded 
  between Houses Davion and Kurita until the last years of the 
  Third Succession War.
  In 3019, the NAIS selected Hoff to host several advanced 
  technology facilities, starting with the revival of the abandoned 
  Friden Aerospace Park. This small spaceport has been turned 
  into a test facility where NAIS scientists—including members 
  of the famed Team Banzai—are rumored to be working on a 
  number of new technologies.
  While Hoff is unusually backward, Duke Bradley Cheel has 
  not missed the possibilities presented by all the educated, 
  brilliant personnel stationed at Friden and other NAIS-run 
  facilities. Cheel has been bartering avidly with Hoff’s assets—
  land, labor, and good food—to train a new crop of teachers, 
  invest in infrastructure and spin-off light industries supporting 
  the research centers.
  h
  b
  h
  e
  n
  d
  w
  n
  e
  e
  n
  b
  o
  o
  u
   
  h
  a
  a
  .
  a
  m
  e
  t
  r
  l
  O
  H
  o
  m
  s
  e
  g
  c
  b
  a
  n
  g
  u
  a
  d
  o
  N
  s
  i
  W
  a
  e
  G
  J
  e
  a
  F
  w
  a
  p
  c
  h
  s
  s
  ,
  o
  t
  e
  y
  i
  r
  i
  v
  y
  S
  e
  e
  r
  v
  a
  p
  y
  e
  :
  F
  n
  c
  m
  s
  W
  D
  v
  o
  r
  u
  l
  L
  3
  i
  o
  o
  e
  i
  m
  a
  a
  o
  a
  e
  k
  a
  s
  o
  e
  a
  e
  s
  1
  a
  u
  :
  T
  b
  s
  —
  N
  i
  c
  n
  s
  e
  d
  e
  d
   
  e
  w
  e
  m
  t
  u
  o
  d
  i
  d
  m
  s
  p
  h
  t
  s
  c
  g
  u
  e
  s
  e
  v
  h
   
  a
  n
  l
  B
  n
  t
  r
  y
  u
  a
  e
  l
  e
  w
  i
  s 
  h
  e
  w
  n
  u
  w
  e
  h
  k
  m
  b
  a
  r
  d
  e
  c
  a
  l
  o
  b
  r
  o
  n
  a
  m
  n
  o
  t subsequently industrialized and became a center for advanced 
  planet’s industrial base and drove it to an unusually primitive
  g
  y
  y
  technology facilities starting with the revival of the abandoned
  between Houses Davion and Kurita until the last years of the
  b
  id
  l
  i
  i
  S
  A
  N
  h
  li
  f
  of the famed Team Banzai
  are rumored to be working on a
  Whil
  H ff i
  ll
  b
  k
  d
  D k
  B
  dl
  Ch
  l h
  W
  Socio Industrial Levels:
  S
  Highest Native Life:
  S
  f
  W t
  C
  S
  Atm. Pressure:
  Ti
  t
  J
  P i t
  T
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  S
  HOFF
  H
  REMAINING UNPERCEIVED
  D
  R O B E R T  C H A R R E T T E
  
  R E M A I N I N G  U N P E R C E I V E D
  But you don’t want to hear that, do you?
   Anyway, Sol had cheated his way through three card sessions and we were 
  well into a fourth when the randomizer called us to duty. It was our fourth for 
  the night. There were two other sweep teams already out on their own runs, so I 
  didn’t see the point of sending us out as well. Ours was not to reason why, so the 
  cards went down. We did the usual cussing as we pulled on our armor and got 
  our weapons from the locker. I mean, who really wants to go walkabout at o-dark-
  hundred on a cold winter night?
  I checked the com panel to see what we’d drawn.
  “Geez, we got an effi  ng full perimeter sweep.”
  “Again?” Sol whined. It was the second of the night. The rest of the guys waiting 
  for their calls made the usual bad jokes about us enjoying ourselves on our little 
  stroll. 
  Sol leaned over my shoulder to check the panel for himself. “At least we’ve only 
  got the one building check this time around.”
  I saw he was right. Just one. And it was the equipment bunker. I smiled.
  “What are you grinning about?” Sol asked as he fastened his helmet’s 
  chinstrap.
   “It’s end-of-sweep,” I told him. “You know I hate the way the sweat you build up 
  when you’re inside chills you out as soon as you hit the outside air. I only get to 
  have that fun once this time.”
  Multiple buildings checks, with the constant in and out, are the worst on cold 
  nights. 
  It was 03:02 when we clocked out of the guardroom. It had been effi  ng cold 
  outside—it had gotten effi  ng colder.  We shivered our way through the compound. 
  The most notable thing was that there was nothing to note. The place was as still 
  as always. We didn’t even see any of the other two teams on their rounds. Other 
  than the scuff  of our boot soles and the rustle of our belt loads against our body 
  armor, there was nothing to hear. We kept it that way as long as we were outside, 
  not so much to follow the book but because Sol likes it that way. He even waxes 
  poetical about the blessed quiet of the night when you get him drunk enough.
  We weren’t drunk enough, though. Not even a little. Though I got to say I 
  wouldn’t have minded a little alcoholic blood warmer at that point. Like I said, it 
  was effi  ng cold.
  Sol’s odd fascination with night’s quiet aside, it does get really quiet in the deep 
  night, quiet in a way that sometimes seems more than normal. It’s not something 
  that only happens when trouble is about to come stomping in on you and ruin 
  your day, like in the dramavids. It’s a natural thing. And this night was quiet, very 
  their alertness spot checks the day it arrived. They don’t do that for unimportant 
  stuff ; it’s too much work for them.
  So what’s the big deal with this thing? Of course that’s not for us bottom-
  rung guys to know. They don’t even tell us what it’s called.  Not that we don’t 
  know. You can’t work security and not overhear stuff . So I know the domeheads 
  call it an “oscillation overcompensator.”  Which tells me exactly nothing. I’m a 
  footslogger, just a regular PBI, and not a lordly MechJock. Those ‘Jocks, they’re all 
  overcompensating, if you ask me. You know what I mean?
  Anyway, that’s what we were guarding. Every morning a full squad of armed 
  guards would watch the domeheads collect their little toy from the equipment 
  bunker and escort it over to the ‘Mech bunker. After the big tin man did his day’s 
  trials, another squad would escort it and the domeheads back to the equipment 
  bunker and watch as they laid the gizmo into its storage crate for the night. I 
  pulled that duty slot more than once. 
  And every night, turn on turn, we’d babysit it.
  It was a very well-guarded storage crate in a very well-guarded equipment 
  bunker on a very well-guarded base. It wasn’t the sort of place that ninja or any 
  other covert ops type got into. And if they did, getting out would have been even 
  harder, once the alarm went up. And it would have gone up, if you know what I 
  mean. We proved that a dozen times over when the Foxes tested us. Caught them 
  every time. Sure there was that one time they got into the bunker, but they didn’t 
  get out, did they?
  Like I said, Sol and me were on night shift, running the dead man’s watch. As 
  usual, we were on a randomized schedule, taking diff erent patrol routes across 
  the base and mixing up the outside patrols with building sweeps. Patrols with 
  fi xed schedules make it too easy for the bad guys. Even so, all the hoofi ng around 
  the base was just a supplement to the real security, all the locks, alarm triggers, 
  and vid surveillance. That’s what really makes it hard on the bad guys. The extra 
  patrols are just icing on the cake.  It’s the thing to do, I suppose, especially if you’re 
  babysitting something as supposedly-valuable as this overcompensator. Not that 
  anybody asked my opinion.
  I gotta tell you, those extra patrols were more work than we were used to, but 
  what are you going to do? It’s the job. And I know randomized start times and 
  sweep orders are the way to go. I understand why it’s got to be that way, but you 
  have no idea what it does to the card games in the guardroom. I mean, shouldn’t 
  that be taken into account, you know, as a morale factor or something? Those 
  unscheduled calls to duty were playing hob with my concentration. And as for 
  how easy it made it for Sol to slip a few extra cards up his sleeve ... 
  ARTIST: MATT PLOG
  PUBLICATION: MECHWARRIOR THIRD EDITION
  YEAR: 1999
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  88
  
  R E M A I N I N G  U N P E R C E I V E D
  quiet. It was the kind of quiet that, if I was a character in a holonovel, I’d be saying 
  it was too quiet. 
  And you know what happened next?
  Nothing.
  We fi nished the perimeter walk and reached the equipment bunker at 03:45. 
  I watched Sol’s back as he punched in his code and ran the biometric scans. The 
  door slid aside and a blast of blessedly warm air hit us. He stepped inside and 
  turned to cover me as I took my turn at the keypad. I fumbled it, and I cussed. My 
  hands were numb from the cold.  I bet the guys monitoring the vid surveillance 
  on the door were amused, sitting there all nice and warm at their monitor station. 
  I blew the second try, too. I got it right on the third try, did my biometrics, and 
  joined Sol inside. We both watched until the door closed. Nobody came through 
  with us. There were no shadows, barely glimpsed, rushing toward the door to 
  slide something into place to hold it open. It was another quiet night, just like 
  every night since the pumped-up security routine got dumped on us.
  As the door lock light came on Sol observed, “Warmer in here.” 
  Master of observation, that Sol. Rubbing my hands together, I agreed. I’m a 
  master, too.
  The bunker’s lighting was low, per AFFS regs on power conservation. The 
  gloomy ceiling wasn’t that far over our heads, but we couldn’t see the structural 
  beams without using our night goggles. Which we didn’t.  Quartermaster 
  Sergeant Zerbinski was unpleasant to us working stiff s when we brought back 
  depleted batteries, so we used them only when it made sense to use them. The 
  subdued glow panels scattered along the walls spilled separate pools of light that 
  were bright enough to navigate by. Still, it was gloomy and there were shadows 
  everywhere. If you were the sort to get easily spooked, you might have found the 
  atmosphere perfect for your paranoia, but we were used to it.
  The ferrocrete walls echoed our steps as we walked down the access ramp. At 
  the fi rst turn, Sol stopped and put a hand on my arm. I stopped, too.
  “Did you hear something?” he asked.
  I told him I hadn’t. The only people authorized for the bunker this time of day were 
  us guards and the Institute honchos. None of the domeheads had been logged in 
  as present, and we were the only security team in the building. We looked back the 
  N P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P EE
  P E
  P E
  P
  R C
  R C
  R C
  R C
  R C
  R C
  R C
  R C
  R C
  R C
  R C
  R C
  R C
  R CC E I
  E I
  E I
  E I
  E I
  E I
  E I
  E I
  E I
  E I
  E I
  E I
  E
  V E
  V E
  V E
  V E
  V E
  V E
  V E
  V E
  V E
  V E
  V E
  V E D
  R E M A I N I N G  U N P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P E
  P
  R C
  R C
  R C
  R C
  R C
  R C
  R C
  R C
  R CC
  R CC
  R C
  R C
  R C
  R CC
  R CC
  R C
  R
  ARTIST: JIM HOLLOWAY
  PUBLICATION: INTELLIGENCE OPERATIONS HANDBOOK
  YEAR: 1993
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  89
  
  R E M A I N I N G  U N P E R C E I V E D
  I knew I was lucky I hadn’t caught the blade’s edge during the defl ection. I also 
  knew my plan to catch the next cut against my weapon barrel and magazine to 
  trap it was in the crapper. That thing was more than sharp enough to cut through 
  anything I was wearing or holding. I had to dodge her shots. 
  I fi gured that if I could get outside her reach far enough to bring my weapon 
  into play, I’d drill her. But I had already seen how fast she was and didn’t fancy my 
  chances of that. That left me only one option. I had to get inside her reach where 
  the sword couldn’t play. I was bigger than her, probably stronger. In close was 
  where I wanted to be.
  Somehow I managed to dodge her next strike, and the one after that. Then my 
  back slammed up against the wall. I felt conduit against my neck and my shoulders 
  pressed against support arches. She paused. Maybe she was savoring the 
  moment of the kill. I don’t effi  ng know.
  The sword came for my neck. I ducked. There was a shock and a 
  sudden coolness against my scalp. I fi gure her stroke took off  a slice of 
  my helmet. That sword was too effi  ng sharp.
  Which, it turns out, was good for me. Her stroke went on to hit the 
  arch on my right and burrow into it. It went deep. Too deep for 
  her to pull it out quickly.
  I didn’t give her time to free it. I 
  jammed my weapon between us, 
  trying to get the muzzle under her 
  chin. I fi red.  My shots killed the ceiling 
  real good. I felt my index fi nger snap as 
  she twisted the weapon out of my hands.
  I tried to fi ght through the pain. She 
  caught my left wrist as I grabbed at her. 
  Slipping under my arm, she went for the arm 
  break. Like I said, she was smaller than me so that 
  move wasn’t going to be easy for her. But she was good. 
  As she spun, her foot brushed against the back of my knee. The 
  tendon folded. My own body had betrayed me into her play.
  Clinically, I know what happened.  Both my elbow and 
  shoulder joints were dislocated, but I never felt that through 
  the explosion of pain that came with the shattering of my 
  humerus.
  Somewhere in that inferno of pain, our positions 
  shifted. I guess I got a grip on her with my good 
  arm and shoved her against the wall. I felt something 
  shift as we hit. The effi  ng sword. Our combined 
  weight levered it free and started spinning its 
  monomolecular point right at me. I got my 
  elbow up and got lucky; I caught it on the fl at. 
  The blade fl ipped over, still spinning. I think it 
  kissed her throat and touched her jugular, 
  because there was a sudden spray of red.
  It was a fl uke. I know it was an effi  ng 
  fl uke, but in a situation like that, you take 
  what you can get and are thankful. I was 
  effi  ng thankful.
  I felt the life go out of her. 
  She crumpled to the fl oor as I 
  stepped back. Me? I was puking 
  out my guts.
  I know, I know. I should 
  have called in then and there. 
  You try being rational and 
  thinking clearly with parts of you 
  broken and pain screaming in your head. 
  Anyway, when her sword cut my helmet, 
  it trashed my helmet’s com-link.
  I stared at her. Her goggles were gone now, and I saw her almond eyes, brown 
  and lifeless. There was a cloth band around her brow, like that hachimachi thing 
  the lead domehead wears. This one had a unit fl ash, gray on gray and nearly 
  invisible against the fabric. I didn’t recognize the design, but it was a Kuritan 
  motif. I wasn’t surprised by that.
  way we had come and saw nothing. He shrugged, and we moved on.
  He stopped me again at the third turn. There was still nothing to be seen.
  “You’re jumpy tonight,” I told him.
  He huff ed out a sigh. “Must be all that ninja talk.”
  I did not kill him at that point. It wasn’t the right time.
  We checked the fi rst locker at 03:55 and moved on through the others in 
  sequence. Sol didn’t hear any more phantom sounds. We reached the last chamber 
  at 04:15. The oscillation overcompensator was sitting in its charging cradle, just 
  like it had been when the last team had checked through a half hour before. I 
  walked across to check the settings on the storage crate, because 
  the domeheads wanted a log of its environmental status. I called in 
  the numbers then clicked off  the com and turned, ready to make 
  some witty remark to Sol about 
  getting back to his cheating.
  Dropping down from the 
  ceiling behind Sol was a dark 
  fi gure with its hands folded across 
  its chest. As those hands passed Sol’s 
  head, they moved apart. I couldn’t 
  see the cord but I could see the 
  line of blood that sprang up 
  across Sol’s neck, just above the 
  collar of his fl ak jacket. 
  It was over before I could move.
  Sol was down, his neck pumping 
  blood as his head rolled away.
  I have to admit I froze for a moment. I was 
  the effi  ng one who was supposed to kill him, 
  not somebody else. 
  I took in a lot in that moment, the way you 
  do when time seems to freeze. I saw that the 
  assassin was dressed in some kind of mottled, 
  dark gray body suit, a perfect match for the 
  facility’s ferroconcrete.  I noted the style 
  of that suit. If it had been black, it could 
  have come out of the morning briefi ng. 
  An effi  ng ninja suit. But there was a 
  holstered pistol on one hip, modern web 
  gear, and heavy goggles covering the 
  eyes.  This was no fairy tale. 
  In that moment I also realized 
  I was facing a woman. I’ve never 
  much liked killing women, but I’ve 
  done it when I had to. Better them 
  than me, you know? She had killed 
  Sol in less time than it takes to tell 
  it. I was next on her list.
  My weapon was slung. I went 
  for it, fast as I could.
  She took a step towards me, 
  holding her right hand out to the 
  side. I swear, an unsheathed sword fl ew 
  out of the darkness and into her hand 
  like she was some kind of mystic 
  space knight. It spooked me, I 
  gotta tell you it did.
  That blackened blade was 
  coming for my head. I didn’t 
  have time to do much. Not enough to bring my 
  weapon’s muzzle into line. But I did get the barrel up against the outside of her 
  sword, defl ecting it. That sword didn’t cleave through my helmet and into my skull 
  as she intended. Instead, it slithered down my shoulder armor. In my peripheral 
  vision, I saw a wafer-thin slice of metal fl utter away. The Davion sword-and-sun 
  fl ashed in the light as the slice tumbled like a wind-caught autumn leaf.
  I think that’s when I pissed my pants.
  The effi  ng sword had to be an old Star League monomolecular-edged blade. 
  Somehow I managed to dodge her next strike, an
  back slammed up against the wall. I felt conduit aga
  pressed against support arches. She paused. 
  moment of the kill. I don’t effi  ng know.
  The sword came for my neck. I duck
  sudden coolness against my scalp. I fi gu
  my helmet. That sword was too effi  ng sh
  Which, it turns out, was good for me.
  arch on my right and burrow into
  her to pull it out quic
  I didn’t
  jammed
  trying t
  chin. I fi r
  real good
  she twisted t
  I tried to 
  caught my left
  Slipping under m
  break. Like I said, she
  move wasn’t going to be ea
  As she spun, her foot brushed aga
  tendon folded. My own body had b
  Clinically, I know what happ
  shoulder joints were dislocated
  the explosion of pain that c
  humerus.
  Somewhere in that 
  shifted. I guess I got 
  arm and shoved her aga
  shift as we hit. The 
  weight levered it 
  monomolecular 
  elbow up and g
  The blade fl ipp
  kissed her thr
  because there
  It was a fl 
  fl uke, but in 
  what you ca
  effi  ng than
  I felt th
  She
  ste
  thi k
  ngs on the storage crate, because
  ts environmental status. I called in
  e com and turned, ready to make 
  t 
  oss
  Sol’s 
  n’t 
  e 
  e.
  mping 
  oment. I was 
  d to kill him, 
  nt, the way you 
  I saw that the 
  d of mottled,
  atch for the 
  the style 
  it could
  briefi ng.
  e was a
  ern web 
  g the 
  ed 
  er 
  ve
  m
  d
  ll 
  nt 
  me,
  the 
  rd fl ew
  hand 
  stic 
  I 
  s
  ’t
  ARTIST: MARK GIBBONS
  PUBLICATION: MECHWARRIOR THIRD EDITION
  YEAR: 1999
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  90
  
  R E M A I N I N G  U N P E R C E I V E D
  “Yeah. All the way up the chain. They gave me these.” Thumping the shiny bits 
  of metal on my chest. “The Badge of Valor and the effi  ng Medal of Valor. Aaron 
  Sandoval himself put them around my neck and off ered me the thanks of a 
  grateful star nation. In place of my right arm, I’ve got a promotion and pension 
  from the crown.”
  “And what of the overcompensator that the intruder left behind?”
  “A fake, of course.  A ruse to fool the monitors until morning. It was supposed to 
  buy time for the infi ltration team to escape.”
  “Which they did handily.”
  I didn’t like his choice of phrase, but I kept my mouth shut and let him 
  continue.
  “Other sources confi rm that the shell was a perfect copy while inside was 
  nothing but sand, measured to match the proper weight. That sand was an 
  interesting touch, as it was green silica with a chemical signature unique to the 
  beaches of the Weyyan island chain on the Marik world of Bordon. A clever use 
  of misdirection, somewhat devalued by your report and the identifi cation of the 
  operatives’ unit fl ash as Kuritan.”
  His teeth glinted as he smiled. I don’t know which he appreciated more, the 
  Kuritan attempt at misdirection or that fact that the misdirection had been 
  unmasked. I know which part I liked best.
  “And what about your fumbling at the access point? It raised no concerns?”
  “Nobody questioned it. The codes you supplied were good, so they never 
  registered the entry of our agent. I hope he got out okay. I wouldn’t be here if he 
  hadn’t sealed my wound before I bled out.”
  “His fate is not your concern. You did all that was asked of you. It is not your 
  fault that our plans were preempted by the actions of the Kuritans. The important 
  matter is that the overcompensator is removed from Davion hands. There may be 
  future opportunities for it to come into our hands. For the moment all is well.”
  Well? Who did he think he was kidding?  I am an effi  ng one-armed cripple, you 
  bastard! I wanted to shout it at him, but you don’t shout at a special operative of 
  Max Liao’s Maskirovka, and you most certainly don’t call him a bastard to his face. 
  Not if you want to leave a room alive.
  He shifted slightly in his seat. Could he feel my rage? His voice didn’t waver in 
  the least.
  “You shall continue in your role. Gather intelligence for us. You current 
  circumstances should off er some unique opportunities.” He rose, still in the 
  shadows, and stepped to the door that I couldn’t see in the darkness. I heard it 
  open. “You have your orders. And you have the thanks of a grateful star nation.”
  Then he was gone.
  I didn’t curse him to burn in seven diff erent hells until I was sure he was out of 
  effi  ng earshot.
  I haven’t seen him since that meeting. I’ve made a life for myself, as much as an 
  effi  ng crippled Davion pensioner can. I go to the veterans’ hospitals and I hang 
  around the bases. People talk to me about a lot of stuff , and some of it would 
  probably be of interest to certain parties. I haven’t told anyone anything. But I will 
  tell you one thing. And you better believe it. 
  If anyone mentions effi  ng ninja to me again, I will effi  ng kill him.
  No, my surprise came when I stumbled to the com console to call for back-up 
  and a new voice spoke.
  “You can call no one. It is disabled.”
  I turned to see another effi  ng ninja. This one was a man, as big as me but 
  leaner. There were wisps of red hair peeking out from beneath his cowl. The effi  ng 
  monomole sword was in his hands. He must have picked it up when I turned my 
  back. Where he’d been before that, I have no effi  ng idea.
  “Kill with the sword, die by the sword. It’s not just poetic, it’s an honor.” He 
  fl ourished the blade, fl icking the last few drops of his fellow ninja’s blood to spatter 
  the wall, before bringing the point in line with my eyes. “Now, my troublesome 
  Fedrat, it is your honor.”
  He blurred into motion.
  I didn’t feel the strike that took off  my right arm at the shoulder. I did feel the 
  elbow that smashed into my mouth. I lost teeth. His leg swept my feet from 
  beneath me and I went down, cracking my head against the fl oor.
  I passed out.
  The rest is hazy at best. I was fading back and forth, but I remember images like 
  frozen moments in a strobe light. 
  Feet in front of my face. Those effi  ng split-toed tabi boots walking away from me.
  A shadow man hefting the overcompensator in his hand. But it’s in the storage 
  crate, too.
  Blood pooling. Mine. Bright red.
  A hand fumbling with a wound sealer spray. My hand? Hell, it had to be my 
  hand. Would the effi  ng ninja bandage me?
  The alarm. Loud, but very, very far away.
  Medics bending over me. Shouting. 
  Pain. Universes of it.
  More feet. Boots running everywhere.
  Blackness. Lots of long, deep blackness.
  My memories don’t get coherent until the second or third time I woke up in the 
  base hospital.
  Anyway, that’s what happened. I don’t remember anything else about the 
  incident. I don’t know how they got in. I don’t know what happened to the 
  intruder’s body. That’s it.
  ▲▼▲
  “Recorded and sealed by Corporal Mickey Rearden,” stated a synthesized 
  voice. “1 February 3022. 13:45. Filed at Hiak—” 
  I shut it up, fl opping the leaden lump that had been my left hand before the 
  ripping away of my weapon had broken fi ngers and ripped nerves and tendons 
  beyond repair on to the effi  ng off  switch. 
  The man sitting across the table let silence fi ll in the shadow-fi lled room. 
  I couldn’t see his expression. He might have been pondering the report, or he 
  might have been asleep, bored by it all. After several minutes of silence that grew 
  ever more annoying, he asked a question.
  “They accepted the report at face value?”
  ARTIST: LIAM CURTNER
  PUBLICATION: A TIME OF WAR: THE BATTLETECH RPG
  YEAR: 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  91
  
   
  ARTIST: ALEX IGLESIAS
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH INTRODUCTORY BOX SET 
  (25TH ANNIVERSARY EDITION)
  YEAR: 2009
  YEAR: 2009
  YEAR: 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  92
  
   
  ARTIST: TODD LOCKWOOD
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH FOURTH EDITION
  YEAR: 1996
  YEAR: 1996
  YEAR: 1996
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  93
  
   
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: COMBAT EQUIPMENT
  YEAR: 2005
  YEAR: 2005
  YEAR: 2005
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  94
  
   
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: CLASSIC BATTLETECH: THE GAME OF ARMORED COMBAT
  YEAR: 2002
  YEAR: 2002
  YEAR: 2002
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  95
  
  M A R S H  O W L
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: TECHMANUAL
  YEAR: 2007
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  96
  
  M A R S H  O W L
  to Terry, Tai-sa Stavarkos had graciously deferred the gift, citing her desire to 
  continue to serve the Coordinator as her father had—at the helm of Stavrakos 
  family’s Katana. Instead, his Tai-sa had humbly requested her Tai-shu award the 
  BattleMaster to Chu-sa Isoguri. His family’s Hatamoto-Chi, in which Isoguri had 
  fought valiantly against the Ghost Bear Clan on Kiesen, had been destroyed by 
  a Davion DropShip’s heavy guns even as the cowardly enemy had scrambled to 
  escape his rightful wrath.
  Terry had seen none of that. Nor had he witnessed the battle—or series of 
  battles—on Proserpina that had reduced the magnifi cent machine below him to 
  a walking ruin. None of that mattered. What mattered was the BattleMaster was 
  now all his. Or, more properly, his responsibility until he and his crew restored it 
  to combat readiness. 
  If pressed, Terry would admit the MechWarriors of the Twelfth Dieron Regulars 
  were probably better known than the techs who kept their war machines in 
  KENNEBUNKPORT AIRFIELD 
  ORLEANS PROVINCE, PROSERPINA 
  BENJAMIN MILITARY DISTRICT, DRACONIS COMBINE
  2 FEBRUARY 3066
  Locals swore the Orleans marsh owl was mostly harmless, despite its 
  appearance. Petty Offi  cer Technician Terry Ohn was not so sure. The nocturnal 
  hunter had a stout, muscular body, a wingspan of more than a meter, and a 
  heavy, sharply curved beak; everything it needed to be very dangerous. Though 
  he’d been assured the powerful beak was designed for cracking the shells of the 
  armored newts that made up the bulk of its diet, not tear human fl esh, Terry was 
  certain the bird could improvise if it wanted to.
  Which is why he gave the Orleans marsh owl sleeping on the bandstand at the 
  rear of the observation lounge a wide birth. It had appeared, nest and all, a week 
  ago. At fi rst he’d though its presence meant an end to his daily retreats, but for 
  seven days it had done nothing but sleep soundly during his visits. Today the bird 
  seemed to be sleeping more on its nest than in it; he suspected there was a new 
  clutch of eggs beneath it—her.
  The VIP observation lounge of the Zephyr-class luxury airship was half an oval 
  of opulence framed by a curving row of viewports—though Terry doubted fl oor-
  to-ceiling expanses of clear crystalline could properly be called “ports.” A circular 
  skylight above the half-oval’s focus illuminated the central bar. Watery sunlight 
  infused the ivory leather—not neoleather—and exotic woods with radiance; 
  brass and crystal glittered. Terry skirted the island of light, staying in the cool 
  shadows as he wove between tables and lounge chairs to his accustomed seat. 
  He knew if he looked up through the skylight, he’d see Proserpina’s great arc 
  of its planetary ring, visible from this latitude as a ghostly fan of silver above the 
  blue-white sky. When he’d arrived on-planet—was it only two weeks ago?—he 
  thought he’d never grow tired of staring at the spectacular arc. Now….
  Finding his place—a loveseat at the left end of the long row of couches, 
  loveseats, and divans that faced the great wall of viewports—Terry unslung his 
  shoulderbag and set it on the low table. He noted, not for the fi rst time, how its 
  square, utilitarian lines clashed with the elegant opulence of his surroundings as 
  he unpacked his water bottle, noteputer, and thermal bowl of stew. 
  Fingers of breeze wafted across the observation lounge from the gaping frame 
  that had held the starboard viewports and tugged at his thinning hair. Terry 
  smoothed his transparent comb-over out of habit, well aware the gesture was 
  futile, and settled into his loveseat. The air forced from the leather—not neoleather, 
  he could not stop marveling—upholstery seemed to echo his contented sigh as 
  he sank into the cushion’s depths.
  He glanced to his left, but neither sound seemed to have disturbed the new 
  mother in her sleep.
  Terry surveyed the swarming activity of the salvage yard spread below his 
  vantage like a tabletop game. The silver rings of Proserpina could not compare 
  to the bustling activity surrounding the dozen BattleMechs that stood or lay on 
  the tarmac; humanoid giants among the mechanical corpses of land tugs and 
  harvesters, shuttles and airliners. But these latest arrivals to Kennebunkport 
  Airfi eld weren’t corpses. They were wounded warriors, waiting amongst the 
  sensor-confounding masses of refi ned and rusting metal for the fabled salvage 
  and repair techs of the Twelfth Dieron Regulars to restore them to life.
  And central among then was his current pride, only the fourth BLR-K3 
  BattleMaster to step out of the assembly bays at Luthien. It was at once a venerated 
  design whose very antiquity demanded respect, and a variant so new that repair 
  templates were not available to frontline units. The latter aspect was a problem, 
  given the amount of damage the war machine had taken, but that obstacle only 
  added to the honor of having his crew chosen to eff ect its restoration.
  Terry had heard Tai-shu Isoroku Kurita himself had off ered the BattleMaster 
  to Tai-sa Katherine Stavrakos in recognition for her leading the Twelfth in their 
  brilliant rescue of the Forty-sixth Dieron on Ashio, then assuming command 
  of the combined force to drive the Davions from the planet. In one week, she 
  had ended a battle that had dragged on for months. The way the story came 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  97
  PROSERPINA
  World Name:
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  Position in System:
  Time to Jump Point:
  Number of Satellites:
  Surface Gravity:
  Atm. Pressure:
  Equatorial Temp:
  Surface Water:
  Recharging Station:
  HPG Class Type:
  Highest Native Life:
  Population (3066):
  Socio-Industrial Levels:
  Proserpina is the archetypical core world of the Inner Sphere: 
  a world that thrived under Terran management and has suffered 
  almost three centuries of abuse and violence at the hands 
  of the Inner Sphere and Periphery. Stephen Amaris started 
  Proserpina’s fall, but it was the unmitigated violence wrought 
  by the Great Houses that truly ravaged the world. Two of its ﬁ ve 
  continents are uninhabitable thanks to the Succession Wars, 
  and nerve and biological agents continue to taint the air and 
  water across the planet. 
  Despite 
  its 
  battered 
  state, 
  Proserpina 
  continues 
  to 
  demonstrate the industrial might of a core world. Its rich mineral 
  veins and thriving industries give its inhabitants (in their sealed 
  and ﬁ ltered homes) an enviable standard of living and enable it 
  to export critical military goods to whichever House rules it in a 
  given year.
  n
  x
  ﬁ
  s
  o
  n
  e
  h
  r
  o
  o
  u
  e
   
  h
  a
  a
  .
  a
  m
  e
  t
  r
  l
  R
  r
  e
  d
  r
  e
  r
  e
  s
  e
  n
  h
  h
  p
  d
  o
  N
  s
  i
  W
  a
  e
  G
  J
  e
  a
  O
  c
  o
  v
  t
  s
  t
  d
  e
  H
  f
  h
  i
  r
  3
  v
  y
  S
  e
  e
  r
  v
  a
  p
  y
  e
  :
  S
  m
  s
  n
  a
  p
  o
  i
  e
  b
  e
  t
  d
  e
  L
  6
  i
  o
  i
  m
  a
  r
  s
  t
  r
  t
  c
  b
  h
  t
  a
  s
  d
  c
  s
  :
  T
  P
  o
  a
  s
  m
  g
  l
  s
  P
  e
  p
  e
  N
  t
  e
  t
  e
  s
  a
  a
  e
  p
  s
  n
  A
  h
  P
  n
  e
  m
  y.
  a
  n
  e
  e
  b
  e
  e
  e
  t
  h
  a
  e
  v
  r
  H
  v
  t
  r
  S
  o
  n
  n
  t
  n
  s
  c
  t
  e
  T
  e
  m
  a
  d
  I
  h
  n
  e
  o
  o
  s
  h
  r
  b
  e
  n
  W
  s
  u
  r
  a
  e
  a world that thrived under Terran management and has suffered 
  of the Inner Sphere and Periphery
  Stephen Amaris started
  p
  g
  g
  Despite
  its
  battered
  state
  Proserpina
  continues
  to
  continents are uninhabitable thanks to the Succession Wars
  c
  d
  i
  h
  i(
  ib
  h
  i
  d
  i
  i
  i
  h
  d
  and ﬁltered homes) an enviable standard of living and enable it
  a
  Socio Industrial Levels:
  S
  Highest Native Life:
  S
  f
  W t
  S
  Atm. Pressure:
  Ti
  t
  J
  P i t
  T
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  S
  PROSERPINA
  P
  MARSH OWL
  K E V I N  K I L L I A N Y
  
  M A R S H  O W L
  ARTIST: STEVE VENTERS
  PUBLICATION: MECHWARRIOR: THE 
  BATTLETECH ROLE PLAYING GAME
  YEAR: 1986
  fi ghting trim, but that improbable factoid did not concern him. The people who understood the 
  nature of war knew that while battles were won through valor and blazing guns, it was determined 
  techs delivering solid maintenance that enabled victory. And among those who understood this 
  truth, the Grease Monkeys of Unswervable Power were legend.
  Terry wedged a fragment of broken ashtray under the downhill edge of his noteputer, adjusting 
  until he found a comfortable reading angle. His eyes fl ickered from the diagnostic assessment of 
  the BattleMech’s damage to the machine itself as he ate his lamb stew. Someday he would marry a 
  woman who cooked as well as the new petty offi  cer of the mess.
  Chu-sa Isoguri’s BattleMaster—temporarily Petty Offi  cer Terry Ohn’s BattleMaster—had 
  died of a thousand cuts. More than fi ve tons of armor had been pared away, exposing 
  snaking myomer muscles along its left arm and both legs. And four of its eighteen 
  heat sinks had been destroyed. Both of these were simple enough repairs. 
  Routine. Except that without repair templates, his people were having to 
  fabricate armor plates from scratch. And, though Luthien Armor Works 
  had brought almost everything else up to Draconis standards, the 
  cooling system was still completely Lyran. His people were having 
  to hand-machine adapter couplings for each new heat sink; they 
  were lucky the Lyran models used a refrigerant similar to what he 
  had in stock.
  More problematic were the weapons. Unlike other K3 variants, 
  this ‘Mech retained the paired extended range medium lasers 
  in the left torso, instead of mounting them to the rear. One of 
  the lasers was a loss—its capacitor bank fatally fractured by the 
  impact that had shattered its external tube. That was another 
  quick fi x: remove the Lyran RAMTech 1500Z and modify the 
  mounts to accept a good Diverse Optics model. The second 
  was more of a problem. It was salvageable, which meant the 
  quartermaster wouldn’t let Terry simply swap it out—resources 
  were scarce, even for the Chu-sa. It would have to be repaired, 
  modifying Draconis parts to fi t a Lyran weapon. Labor intensive, 
  but doable. The second pair of ER medium lasers—which the 
  Luthien designers had moved from the right torso to the left 
  arm—fi eld-tested operational. But Terry wouldn’t trust that 
  testimony until their heat sinks were online and he squeezed 
  the trigger himself. Of course, the brace of Diverse Optics 
  Sunbeam ER large lasers Luthien had mounted high on the 
  BattleMaster’s chest were in perfect working order. He wasn’t 
  aware of a more rugged design. The big problem—
  Terry’s handset sounded, its nerve-jarring buzz scattering 
  his thoughts. 
  He silenced it, but not quickly enough.
  A nails-on-chalkboard screech of outrage brought him to 
  his feet. Facing the new mother, he spread his hands in what he 
  hoped was a placating gesture.
  “It’s okay….”
  The marsh owl was having none of it. Glaring balefully, she advanced to 
  the edge of the bandstand and spread her wings wide, shielding her nest. 
  “Your eggs are inedible,” Terry explained, trying to keep his voice light and 
  tension-free. “And note the brown coveralls; I’m a technician, not a fi ghter.”
  The owl screeched again.
  “I’m irritable when I’m woken out of a sound sleep, too.” Terry 
  sympathized.
  He kept his movements slow, continuing to make what he hoped 
  were soothing sounds as he collected his noteputer and policed the 
  remains of his lunch. He reminded himself that Orleans marsh owls 
  were offi  cially harmless, never attacking anything larger than a newt, 
  but the argument wasn’t convincing in the face of Mother’s threat 
  display. Terry was certain any attempt to get close to her nest would 
  end badly.
  “Very clever repurposing of that speaker housing,” Terry said, striving 
  for placating sincerity as he eased toward the exit. “Good use of 
  found materials, too. That’s a lot like what I do on my job.”
  Whether or not the owl agreed was not clear. The bird 
  shifted position as he moved, keeping herself between Terry 
  and her clutch. She did not screech again, but her gimlet 
  gaze never wavered.
  mprobabl
  while bat
  aintenan
  ys of Uns
  ent of br
  table rea
  e to the m
  well as the
  Master—t
  More than
  s along it
  stroyed. 
  thout rep
  om scratc
  rything e
  complete
  er couplin
  dels used
  e the we
  paired e
  of mou
  s capacito
  ed its ex
  yran RAM
  od Diver
  . It was 
  let Terry
  e Chu-sa
  s to fi t a L
  pair of E
  moved fro
  tional. Bu
  t sinks w
  course, t
  s Luthien
  e in perfe
  design. T
  ed, its n
  quickly e
   screech
  mother, h
  esture.
  ving non
  nd and sp
  e,” Terry e
  he brown
  ain.
  m woke
  nts slow, 
  s he colle
  e reminde
  never att
  ’t convin
  n any att
  ng of tha
  s he eas
  t’s a lot li
  owl agre
  oved, kee
  not scree
  M A R S H  O W L
  ARTIST: STEVE VENTERS
  PUBLICATION: MECHWARRIOR: THE 
  BATTLETECH ROLE PLAYING GAME
  YEAR: 1986
  le factoid did not concern him. The people who understood the 
  ttles were won through valor and blazing guns, it was determined
  nce that enabled victory. And among those who understood this 
  wervable Power were legend.
  roken ashtray under the downhill edge of his noteputer, adjusting 
  ading angle. His eyes fl ickered from the diagnostic assessment of 
  machine itself as he ate his lamb stew. Someday he would marry a
  e new petty offi  cer of the mess.
  temporarily Petty Offi  cer Terry Ohn’s BattleMa
  M ster—had 
  n fi ve tons of armor had been pared away, exposing 
  ts left arm and both legs. And four of its eighteen 
  Both of these were simple enough repairs. 
  pair templates, his people were having to
  ch. And, though Luthien Armor Works
  else up to Draconis standards, the 
  ely Lyran. His people were having 
  ngs for each new heat sink; they 
  d a refrigerant similar to what he 
  eapons. Unlike other K3 variants,
  extended range medium lasers
  nting them to the rear. One of 
  or bank fatally fractured by the 
  xternal tube. That was another 
  MTech 1500Z and modify the 
  rse Optics model. The second 
  salvageable, which meant the
  y simply swap it out—resources 
  . It would have to be repaired, 
  Lyran weapon. Labor intensive, 
  R medium lasers—which the
  om the right torso to the left 
  ut Terry wouldn’t trust that 
  were online and he squeezed 
  he brace of Diverse Optics 
  n had mounted high on the 
  ect working order. He wasn’t 
  The big problem—
  erve-jarring buzz scattering 
  enough.
  h of outrage brought him to 
  he spread his hands in what he 
  ne of it. Glaring balefully, she advanced to 
  pread her wings wide, shielding her nest. 
  explained, trying to keep his voice light and 
  n coveralls; I’m a technician, not a fi ghter.”
  en out of a sound sleep, too.” Terry
  continuing to make what he hoped
  ected his noteputer and policed the 
  ed himself that Orleans marsh owls 
  tacking anything larger than a newt, 
  ncing in the face of Mother’s threat 
  tempt to get close to her nest would 
  t speaker housing,” Terry said, striving
  ed toward the exit. “Good use of 
  ke what I do on my job.”
  ed was not clear. The bird 
  eping herself between Terry
  ech again, but her gimlet
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  98
  
  M A R S H  O W L
  “Our engineers have established a ford here,” the point of the sudden up-turn 
  glowed blue, “which will remain undetectable until we use it. And by the time we 
  cross, we will have fl anked the bulk of the Dracs.”
  “Sir?” Captain Forbes interrupted. 
  Mike sat up a bit and felt the other recon jockeys shift with her. Huxtable liked 
  to talk and did not appreciate anyone interrupting his briefi ngs with questions. 
  But the Major nodded to Forbes with no sign of censure.
  “Isn’t that going too far around for too little advantage? Why not a broken fi eld 
  run, breaking west of the Rhone?”
  “It may come to that,” the Major agreed. “This probe could end up a feint, the 
  vanguard of our breakout, or the fi rst step towards something else entirely. It all 
  depends on what we fi nd.
  Michelson frowned, fi rst at the wall screen, then at her noteputer. The map 
  was sketchy, lacking in detail. Small towns and large farms were denoted by dots 
  without submaps. There could be a lot out there they didn’t know about
  “In many ways, the worst case scenario would be discovering we had a clear 
  shot,” the Major said. “Taking it would turn into a foot race over open terrain with 
  no defensible place to go to ground between us and our objective. However, that 
  apparent tactical suicide might make it our best strategic choice.
  “Of particular interest is this facility,” a gold ring appeared around one of the 
  featureless dots. “Kennebunkport Airfi eld.”
  “Airfi eld?” 
  Michelson tried to look as though as if she had not blurted the question.
  “Airfi eld,” Major Huxtable confi rmed. “Concrete and/or asphalt landing surface, 
  completely unsuitable for DropShip use. Repeated DropShip use. It’s our hope the 
  Dracs have overlooked that qualifi er. Because what it is is a fl at and stable piece 
  of land—with none of the sand traps or soup pits that make the plains useless to 
  us—outside the umbrella the Dracs have thrown over Orleans.”
  Huxtable paused, looking over the map. “And that is the crux of the ‘something 
  else entirely’ I just mentioned. Commodore Richardson has assembled a DropShip 
  taskforce. They are prepared to touch down just long enough to take us aboard. 
  I don’t need to tell you the process will take several hours, but during that time 
  our tactical airwaves will be fi lled with chatter about abandoning Proserpina 
  unconditionally. Disinformation which we hope will slow the Dracs’ hand.
  “Because we are not leaving.”
  A line of gold dashes connected Kennebunkport Airfi eld to Goddard 
  Dropport.
  “What we will do is make a ballistic jump,” Huxtable said. “It will be a rough trip, 
  because our ‘Mechs will travel unsecured—ready for rapid deployment. We will 
  hit the ground at Goddard shooting. Break the back of the Drac occupation with 
  all their combat assets out of position.”
  Mike nodded. It would reverse the tactical situation on Proserpina in a single 
  action. Provided it worked.
  “Our intel is old—Kennebunkport was not a point of interest until today,” the 
  Major smiled grimly. “The airfi eld was abandoned by commercial lines decades 
  ago. It is—or was, last we knew—used by several local cargo concerns and has an 
  extensive junkyard. It’s something of a graveyard for transport vehicles.
  “Now is the time for decisive action,” Huxtable said. “We must carve out the 
  heart of the Drac occupation. And we are presented with three choices on how to 
  do that: Punch directly north, through the Drac lines. Head south of west along the 
  fen, fl anking the Dracs before turning north. Or head due south to Kennebunkport 
  Airfi eld and jump over their forces to strike directly at their heart.
  “We know what lies to our north. Your mission is to scout the fen and the airfi eld. 
  Bring back the information we need to make the right choice.”
  ▲▼▲
  KENNEBUNKPORT AIRFIELD 
  ORLEANS PROVINCE, PROSERPINA 
  BENJAMIN MILITARY DISTRICT, DRACONIS COMBINE
  03 FEBRUARY 3066
  “Our own parts, fabricated to order.”
  Terry grinned at the wonder in Petroccelli’s voice as he stood beside her, 
  watching the fl atbed truck back carefully into position. He knew her amazement 
  was only half in jest.
  The Ghost Bears had pounded the Twelfth Dieron mercilessly on Kiesen. Not 
  because they had made it easy for the invaders. Quite the opposite. The warriors 
  “In fact, I think I’ll be getting back to work now.”
  He shut the door gently and hurried down the dark corridor. Fishing his handset 
  from its belt holster, he keyed the recall.
  “Go,” he said when Technician Petrocelli acknowledged.
  “New conduit and juncture assembly for the right arm weapons array just arrived,” 
  she answered. “If we pull the crew off  the leg armor, we can get the linkage installed 
  and snake the myomer before the housing arrives.”
  “Get started. I’m on my way.”
  ▲▼▲
  EIGHTH CRUCIS LANCERS OPERATIONS HQ
  ORLEANS, PROSERPINA 
  DRACONIS MARCH, FEDERATED SUNS
  Leftenant Eunice “Mike” Michelson studied the map on the wall screen, aware it 
  was identical to her noteputer’s display, as she half-listened to the Major briefi ng the 
  recon company.
  The Davion green doughnut toward the right was Orleans, Michelson and the 
  MechWarriors around her; the blue covering the lower right corner the ocean at 
  their backs; the tan to the south the Orleans Fen, a blend of marsh, plain and prairie 
  stretching fl at as a pool table from the Great Dismal Swamp until it abruptly became 
  an alkali desert. To the upper left, amid the grey that depicted mountains, was the 
  gold sunburst of the Goddard Dropport; once the Lancers’ base of operations, now 
  the heart of the Draconis occupation. 
  “Morally, Proserpina is a member world of the Federated Suns,” Major Huxtable was 
  saying. “Strategically, a strongly garrisoned Proserpina is vital to the security of the 
  Draconis March. But tactically our position on Proserpina has become problematic. 
  Whether we hold this world now or must launch a costly campaign to retake it later 
  will depend on our next action. Quite frankly, we no longer have the resources nor 
  the support of the locals to win a war of attrition. Victory will depend on bold and 
  decisive action.”
  Mike tuned him back out, studying the tacsit as she waited for him to get to the 
  meat of the mission.
  Between the doughnut of Orleans and the golden sunburst was a mottled expanse of 
  greens and browns denoting a variety of terrains, several black lines representing roads, 
  and two large red crescents marking the location of their enemies. Or as near the locations 
  as their limited intel could place them. The First Ghost to the north, the First Sword of Light 
  to the east of the Ghosts. Neither force matched the Eighth Crucis Lancers, even in their 
  depleted state, but the two combined presented a serious obstacle. 
  A much less defi ned shape, an area of red to the west and south so diff used it 
  appeared pink, indicated the suspected range of operations for the Twelfth and 
  Forty-fi fth Dieron Regulars—the Drac units tasked with mopping up tertiary targets 
  while the big boys faced off  against the Islamabad Sluggers of the Eighth. Even less 
  was known about these units beyond the fact that they had Clan experience and that 
  the relatively fresh Twelfth, which usually fi elded relatively fast medium ’Mechs, had 
  surprised First Battalion with a company of heavies and assaults. Including at least 
  one BattleMaster among the Naginatas and O-Bakemonos. Where the Dieron Regulars 
  were now was the stuff  of speculation—with some credible theories placing them as 
  far away as Conqueror’s Pride.
  “—How far will depend on what we fi nd,” Major Huxtable was saying. “While it 
  would be tempting to hope the alkali fl ats would make perfect DropShip pads, they 
  are as unstable as the fens bordering the swamps. Where one is barely solid wetland, 
  the other has pockets of dust in fi ne sand concealing pits, spires and God knows what 
  else. A deathtrap for heavy BattleMechs, much less a DropShip.”
  Mike blinked. How had they gotten to DropShips? She tried to replay what Huxtable 
  had been saying while she studied the map. No go; her brain was not a recorder.
  “The Dracs believe the terrain west and south is eff ectively impassable to us; they’re 
  not covering that route,” Huxtable smiled. “We could very well use their complacency 
  to our advantage.”
  A curving line appeared on the wall screen, tracing a path from the doughnut 
  down to the left before cutting sharply back up to the golden sunburst.
  “This route keeps the Rhone River and the Dismal Swamp between us and the 
  Dracs. There’s a lot they can do to cut us off , but little they’re likely to try. From their 
  perspective, it will look as though we’re letting the terrain defeat us.”
  From Mike’s perspective, too, but she kept her face impassive, waiting for the Major 
  to make his point.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  99
  
  M A R S H  O W L
  to extrapolate from what remained of the anchors and earlier recordings of the 
  intact assembly.
  “We thought it prudent to test our design for fi t and fi nish before installing the 
  weapon system.”
  “Prudent,” agreed Firenze, her tone revealing nothing.
  Without another word, she turned on her heel and was gone. 
  “Well,” Petrocelli said, watching the muscular woman’s broad back 
  as she strode to her own work area and her crew swarming 
  over their Grand Dragon, “It’s good to know we have at 
  least one MechWarrior to protect us.”
  “You think we need protection?”
  “We are in the middle of nowhere. Just us, a 
  dozen broken BattleMechs, an ad hoc machine 
  shop and four thousand dead airplanes,” 
  Petrocelli replied. “If the Fedrats come our 
  way we will be helpless.”
  “If the Fedrats try to cross the fl ats 
  to reach the greater Kennebunkport 
  metropolitan area and wildlife reserve, 
  they’ll show up like a roach on a 
  wedding cake,” Terence countered. 
  “The Twelfth—those of us piloting 
  working BattleMechs—would pound 
  them to spare parts before they were 
  halfway here.”
  Petrocelli looked doubtful. 
  Shielding her eyes from the watery 
  sunlight, she peered to the north and 
  west where she imagined the Davion forces 
  lurked.
  “If the Twelfth were really anywhere near us, 
  our MechWarriors would be here, watching over 
  every rivet and weld of their beloved ’Mechs,” she said. 
  “We are alone in a place our Tai-sa hopes the enemy will not 
  look while every BattleMech that can fi ght is engaging an enemy 
  somewhere too far away.”
  Terry’s bantering reply died in the face of the young woman’s obvious distress.
  “Come, Technician,” he said soberly, “Let us restore Chu-sa Isoguri’s BattleMaster 
  that he may complete the task of ridding Proserpina of our enemies.”
  ▲▼▲
  ORLEANS FEN 
  ORLEANS PROVINCE, PROSERPINA 
  DRACONIS MARCH, FEDERATED SUNS
  Mike crouched in her command couch, willing her Dart to present the smallest 
  possible aspect. Who knew what sensors and eyes swept the night, alert for 
  audacious scouts? She kept her pace down, hoping the twenty-fi ve ton machine 
  wouldn’t build up enough heat to trip a thermal alarm.
  Though heat wasn’t usually a problem for her ’Mech. Like most Dart jockeys, 
  after her fi rst brush with an enemy she’d traded out the three small pulse lasers 
  for standard medium lasers. But where most MechWarriors traded three for three, 
  she had opted for only two. Three medium lasers generated more heat than the 
  Dart’s cooling system was designed to handle and to her the extra punch wasn’t 
  worth the risk of thermal shutdown. Or a scout ‘Mech that glowed like an infrared 
  beacon on a cool night. Mike had invested the ton freed up by the sacrifi ced laser 
  in additional armor protecting key components. Like her cockpit.
  She’d met pilots who sneered at her Dart’s anemic armament, but Mike never 
  argued with them. The way she saw it, her job was not to fi ght; her job was to get 
  in, get the information, and get out again without anyone knowing she was there. 
  In her heart she suspected knowing her ‘Mech couldn’t shoot its way out of any 
  trap she stumbled into had made her a better scout.
  Above and behind her, the great silver arch of Proserpina’s ring dominated the 
  sky. No trouble fi nding north with the planet’s equator so gloriously labeled.
  Of course, the shimmering ring also lit up the marshy plain her lance was 
  traversing like a half-dozen full moons. It did not cheer Mike at all that she could 
  of the Twelfth had fought valiantly, their courage had honored their forbearers 
  and the Coordinator. But theirs was a rapid combat and deep recon regiment; over 
  sixty percent of the BattleMechs they threw at the Clanners were light-mediums 
  or lights. Ton for ton, the Twelfth was a match for any unit in the Inner Sphere or 
  beyond; but such a light regiment simply could not stand up against a Galaxy of 
  heavy and assault OmniMechs and win.
  Simple survival—holding out until they could be extracted—had 
  been a victory few of the Twelfth had hoped to see. But it 
  was a victory that brought them neither honor nor 
  respect. Indeed, many outsiders believed the Twelfth 
  defeated and dishonored—out of combat for the 
  duration of the war, if not out of the DCMS 
  permanently. Pulled to a backwater world 
  for refi t and repair, the Twelfth had been 
  forced to argue, beg, cajole, wheedle, and 
  threaten for every scrap of armor, every 
  piece of equipment, every round of 
  ammo they received. There were those 
  in the Quartermaster’s Offi  ce who 
  made no secret of their conviction the 
  “late” Twelfth should be scavenged 
  for parts, not allowed to siphon away 
  materiel that should have gone to 
  viable units. Units actually trading 
  blows with the enemy.
  MechWarriors transferred to the 
  Twelfth had not wanted to come, but 
  they had no choice. Their BattleMechs, 
  scarred and battered by Clan Ghost Bear 
  or the Federated Suns, bore testimony to 
  the defeats they had suff ered to warrant their 
  transfers. But the determination, the heart, of the 
  Arm of Unswervable Strength had been undimmed by 
  Kiesen. Chu-sa Ambassa, Daily, and Isoguri had integrated 
  the unwilling warriors into their ranks, forging each battalion 
  into a new and stronger whole. Even as Warrant Offi  cer Technician 
  Terry Ohn and a dozen other crew chiefs rebuilt their battered ‘Mechs into war 
  machines worthy of any battle.
  It had not been lost on Terry that every BattleMech transferred to the Twelfth 
  was a heavy or an assault. Tai-shu Kurita still had faith in the wounded command, 
  and was redressing the unfair imbalance that had given victory to the Clan. But 
  from the daily campaigns necessary to wrest even the most basic of supplies from 
  the Quartermaster’s Offi  ce, Terry knew this trust was not apparent to everyone.
  It had taken Ashio and a victory over the Robinson Rangers as decisive as their 
  defeat at the hands of the Clan to reestablish the honor of the Twelfth. And to 
  make possible this moment, the prompt delivery of a particle projection canon 
  housing custom built to their specifi cations.
  “Very pretty,” drawled a voice from behind. “But the Chu-sa will require a working 
  PPC, not a cosmetic prosthetic.”
  Terence grinned at Petty Offi  cer Technician Lia Firenze, letting her know her 
  legendary sour mood had no power to harm him. 
  “Observe the wisdom of her insight, Technician,” he said to Petrocelli. “She has 
  discerned a fatal fl aw in our humble plan.”
  Firenze ignored him, her eyes only for the BattleMaster. 
  She had once been a candidate for a MechWarrior academy. Which one and how 
  close she had come to piloting a BattleMech varied from telling to telling, but the 
  fact remained she regarded herself as a MechWarrior temporarily Dispossessed, 
  not a leader of a grease monkey crew. As Terry’s social better, she bitterly resented 
  his crew being awarded the mighty BattleMaster while her crew was relegated 
  to restoring the Grand Dragon of Chu-i Dolan. That the young MechWarrior had 
  nearly destroyed his ‘Mech by recklessly outrunning his slower lancemates in his 
  eagerness to engage the enemy seemed to add insult to the injury she felt her 
  status had suff ered.
  “What goes in the housing?” she asked.
  “Eventually a Lord’s Light 2 Extended Range Particle Projection Cannon,” Terry 
  answered, always happy to talk shop. “Our challenge has been the design of the 
  housing assembly. With the arm completely gone and no templates, we have had 
  Without another word, she turned on her
  “Well,” Petrocelli said, watchi
  ow
  Dr
  hW
  nk
  re 
  br
   a
  ro
  ay
  “
  to 
  m
  th
  w
  “T
  w
  th
  ha
  P
  Sh
  lig
  wh
  Tw
  arr
  we
  ac
  ch
  somewhere too far away”
  win.
  l they could be extracted—had
  ad 
  nei
  eved
  omb
  the 
  er w
  d be
  , an
  very
  of 
  se 
  o 
  e 
  d 
  y 
  to 
  g
  ng 
  the
  bu
  Mec
  st 
  mo
  arra
  e he
  een 
  sog
  nks,
  ven as Warrant Officer Technician
  “Well,” Petrocelli said, watc
  as she strode to her o
  over their Grand D
  least one Mech
  “You thin
  “We ar
  dozen b
  shop
  Pet
  wa
  t
  t
  h
  S
  sunl
  west w
  lurked.
  “If the T
  our MechWa
  every rivet and 
  “We are alone in a pl
  look while every BattleMec
  ey could be extracted—had 
  hoped to see. But it
  ither honor nor
  d the Twelfth 
  bat for the 
  DCMS 
  world 
  een 
  nd
  y 
  e 
  ut 
  hs, 
  Bear 
  ony to 
  ant their
  eart, of the
  undimmed by 
  guri had integrated
  , forging each battalion 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  100
  
  M A R S H  O W L
  easily pick out Thomlinson’s Javelin chasing its inky shadow across the silver plain 
  to her right.
  Mike had reduced the recon of Kennebunkport Airfi eld to two scouts—she’d 
  loaned Iverson and Twofeathers to Balanchine’s lance to speed up mapping the 
  edge of the marsh. Knowing how closely Lancer BattleMechs could skirt the 
  impenetrable swamp might make all the diff erence if the brass went with the 
  southwestern end-run. 
  As if on cue, her comm panel blipped an incoming signal on the lance leader 
  frequency. Never a good sign when they were supposed to be running dark. She 
  keyed her radio.
  “Recon Two Alpha to Recon One Alpha.”
  “Go Two,” Mike answered. The Cyclops 14 comm system recorded her words, 
  compressed the component sound, then transmitted a micro-second pop easily 
  lost in the hiss of background noise, too quick for human ears to hear.
  “River road is a no-go,” Balanchine answered, the compression-and-squirt of 
  her words so rapid there was no pause. “Swamp runs too far south. We’d lose a day 
  working around it before we made the ford.”
  Mike swore softly. Of the three plans, the river run would have been 
  her pick. But she was honest enough to admit she favored it because her 
  Dart was probably the lightest and fastest ’Mech on the planet. She could 
  probably skate across the wetlands Balanchine was giving up on. 
  But the Eighth Crucis Lancers hadn’t earned the title “Islamabad 
  Sluggers” for fielding ultra-light recon ‘Mechs. The regiment was 
  thick with heavyweights; Fourth Battalion was all Longbows and 
  Salamanders. The soupy mud would swallow Major-General 
  Marshall’s Devastator to its armpits.
  The southern Orleans Fen—more properly a plain at this point—was 
  soft, but fi rm enough to support even the heaviest ‘Mechs. If she were piloting 
  an assault ‘Mech, the all-out punch north on rock solid ground would be her plan 
  of choice. But if the airport gamble paid off ….
  Mike’s eyes fl ickered between the map and the chronometer computing 
  positions and travel time. Ten minutes to midnight.
  “Form on me, Recon Two,” she ordered. “Vector to rendezvous grid four-tango-
  seven.”
  An affi  rmative double click in response, then radio silence resumed.
  One eye on the passive sensors, Mike settled in to watching the silvery 
  landscape scroll by outside her canopy. An hour before dawn the Lancers would 
  be in a position to see what there was to see in Kennebunkport.
  ▲▼▲
  KENNEBUNKPORT AIRFIELD 
  ORLEANS PROVINCE, PROSERPINA 
  BENJAMIN MILITARY DISTRICT, DRACONIS COMBINE
  04 FEBRUARY 3066
  Terry felt himself fl ying; then he was falling; then his arm was being broken 
  while he stumbled to keep his feet. It took him a dozen steps to piece together 
  Lia Firenze had yanked him out of a sound sleep and was hauling him along the 
  barracks corridor by one arm.
  “Pants,” he said.
  “What?”
  “Pants.”
  Firenze turned her head to look at him, then snorted in disgust.
  “We’re in a combat zone,” she snapped. “You sleep dressed and ready for 
  action.”
  Terry considered retorting he slept stripped for action, but the truth was he 
  hadn’t expected action of any type in quite a while. Besides, the fact Firenze had 
  jerked him out of his bunk at oh-ungodly-in-the-morning implied the situation 
  didn’t lend itself to clever quips.
  Released from her bruising grip, Terry mustered what dignity he could scurrying 
  back to his quarters.
  “Out front, stat,” she called after him.
  “—may or may not be radio traffi  c,” Shujin Klaus, commander of the infantry 
  platoon tasked with the defense of Kennebunkport Airfi eld, was saying less than 
  a minute later as Terry joined the disorderly knot of Petty Offi  cer Technicians in 
  the quad. “But defi nite ‘Mech-type heat signatures moving south.”
  M A R S H  O W L
  hadow across the silver plain 
  Airfi eld to two scouts—she’d 
  ce to speed up mapping the 
  BattleMechs could skirt the 
  e if the brass went with the 
  ng signal on the lance leader 
  osed to be running dark. She 
  system recorded her words, 
  d a micro-second pop easily 
  man ears to hear.
  e compression-and-squirt of 
  too far south. We’d lose a day 
  ver run would have been 
  she favored it because her 
  h on the planet. She could 
  was giving up on. 
  title “Islamabad 
  e regiment was 
   Longbows 
  Longbows and 
  and
  Major-General 
  at this point—was 
  Mechs. If she were piloting
  id ground would be her plan 
  he chronometer computing 
  rendezvous grid four-tango-
  o silence resumed.
  in to watching the silvery 
  ore dawn the Lanc
  n ers would 
  ebunkport.
  INE
  n his arm was being broken 
  ozen steps to piece together 
  d was hauling him 
  m along the 
  ed in disgust.
  leep dressed and ready for 
  action, but the truth was he 
  Besides, the fact Firenze had 
  orning implied the situation n
  hat dignity he could scurrying 
  commander of the infantry 
  Airfi eld, was saying less than 
  f Petty Offi  cer Technicians in 
  moving south.”
  ARTIST: KLAUS SCHERWINKSI
  PUBLICATION: TOTAL WARFARE
  YEAR: 2006
  YEAR: 2006
  YEAR: 2006
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  101
  
  M A R S H  O W L
  ARTIST: DOUG CHAFFEE
  PUBLICATION: FIELD MANUAL: DRACONIS COMBINE
  YEAR: 1996
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  102
  
  M A R S H  O W L
  her. Ghostly structures illuminated by ring light and swathed in inky shadow. 
  The giant airship—big as most DropShips—dominated like a giant’s mausoleum 
  rising out of a boneyard. They had found no Drac pickets on their approach and 
  no signs of life in the hangars and warehouses of the airport proper. And here in 
  the graveyard more of the same nothing.
  Maybe too much nothing.
  The other seven ‘Mechs of her double lance were spread out to her right and 
  behind her, their icons clear on her screens even as they stood dark and silent. 
  Protocol was for passive sensors. Hear, look, feel for heat. No scans, no signal 
  to give away their positions. But there had been an active scan. A trickle, mere 
  percentages of power. If Balanchine hadn’t seen it, too, she might have dismissed 
  it as a phantom; but it was no ghost. Someone in the darkness ahead had scanned 
  them. 
  “One Recon Gamma.”
  “Go, Danny.”
  “I think I have a heat source. Not close, behind a row of transport corpses. But 
  something is defi nitely a few degrees above ambient.”
  A few degrees here, a trickle of power there. A suspicion became a certainty.
  “Recon One, Recon Two, full sweep,” she ordered, slapping her own Cyclops 
  system alive. “We got snakes in the rocks.”
  “Sweet mother!” shouted someone.
  “Tally one O-Bakemono,” said another voice crisply. “Powering up now.” 
  “Heat source is a Grand Dragon,” Daniels reported more professionally. “It’s 
  going hot now.”
  “Recon Two Alpha,” Balanchine transmitted from the far end of the line “I have 
  eyes on a Naginata. Cold starting.”
  “Bug out!” Mike ordered. Scissoring her yokes, she spun her tiny Dart away from 
  the BattleMaster that had materialized out of black shadow a hundred meters ahead. 
  “Recon One, Recon Two, open formation, pace to slowest, best speed. Move.”
  Behind her the Drac MechWarrior was slow in fi ring up his fusion reactor, and 
  Mike thanked whatever gods watched over her that he didn’t think to launch his 
  missiles. Her sensors reported ten massive fusion reactors coming to life in the 
  junkyard behind her. Heavies or assaults, every one of them. And…was that more 
  fi ring up inside the belly of the airliner? 
  The icons of her command swarmed north, tight enough to stay eyes-on, loose 
  enough to screw up targeting solutions.
  “Thank God for nervous ‘Mech jockeys,” Balanchine said.
  Mike grunted.
  Kennebunkport was a damn Drac stronghold. At least one of the Dieron 
  brigades staking out the back door in case the Lancers broke south out of 
  Orleans. It had taken nerve to sit in dead-cold ‘Mechs watching the scouts 
  walk into the trap. Mike knew her scouts would have gotten a couple of licks 
  in before the assaults powered up, but they would have been scrap metal in 
  minutes. She thanked Balanchine’s god at least one of the Dracs had been short 
  on nerve. Without his premature scan and start-up, Mike and company would 
  have disappeared without a trace.
  South was not the way out. If the Eighth Crucis Lancers were to win their way 
  free of Orleans, it was going to have to be a head-on charge north into the teeth 
  of the waiting dragons.
  ▲▼▲
  HOME
  The big thing left the food and went away.
  When she was sure the big thing was gone, she lifted her protecting body from 
  her struggling young. Their mewing and squeaks fi lled the air. Moving from the 
  nest to the hollow thing, she cocked her head as she examined the bog newts. 
  There were…. many. Healthy and strong and fi ghting each other to escape. 
  Satisfi ed, she selected one. Avoiding its claws with practiced ease, she fl ipped it 
  on its back. Grasping the edge of its carapace with one talon, she ripped the soft 
  under fl esh in her curving beak. Her daughters fought over the strips she tossed 
  into the nest. She harvested and fed until even the runt was sated, and then she 
  ate her fi ll.
  Settling back into her nest, the marsh owl considered her world and was 
  content.
  Trucks were moving in the predawn dark, the diesels growling with eff ort. 
  Somewhere a heavy winch whined under strain.
  Terry craned his head to see one of the noteputers being passed around as the 
  Shujin spoke. The screen looked blank until Terry realized the silver-grey nothing 
  was an orbital scan of the Fen. With eight red points of light moving south.
  “Roaches on a wedding cake,” he murmured.
  “The Wolf Trap and Strider are being loaded on transports,” Klaus said, explaining 
  at least some of the equipment noises. “All ambulatory BattleMechs are to be 
  moved to the hold of the Zephyr immediately.”
  “Why?” Firenze demanded in the tone of one who assumed social superiority 
  superseded military rank.
  “Suffi  cient space for all BattleMechs wrapped in a dozen layers of metal,” Klaus 
  stated the obvious. “Four hundred tons of titanium, aluminum, and steel could 
  fog their scanners. It’s our best chance for concealing them from scans.” 
  “These are Dieron BattleMechs,” Firenze countered. “More than a match for two 
  lances of Fedrat scouts.”
  “Ordnance, Lia,” Terry spoke up, earning himself a glare. “Even if we had protocols 
  to access the combat programs; even if our tech helmets magically gave us the 
  fi nesse—and the skills—to pilot these BattleMechs in battle: we don’t have any 
  ammo.
  “And energy weapons? Chu-sa Isoguri’s BattleMaster is a thing of beauty, but 
  the PPC housing is empty and with the thermal systems offl  ine, I don’t dare fi re 
  even the smallest laser,” Terry shook his head. “No machine here is ready for battle, 
  even against Fedrat scouts.”
  Some of the fi re left Firenze’s eyes, but her jaw and her fi sts remained 
  clenched.
  “So we just sit in there and hope the Fedrats go away?”
  “No.” Terry marveled at the complete lack of annoyance or hurry in the Shujin’s 
  voice. “We wait in hover transports and APCs concealed south of the airfi eld. If the 
  Federation forces seem bent on securing their position here, we make best speed 
  to intercept the Forty-fi fth Dieron, already responding.”
  “How far?” someone asked.
  “ETA sixteen hours.”
  “We run?” Firenze demanded. “And just abandon a company of BattleMechs to 
  the Fedrats?”
  “Demolition crews are placing charges throughout the Zephyr now,” Klaus said. 
  “If the Federals discover the cache of BattleMechs, they will be detonated.”
  “No!” Terry blurted.
  Firenze glanced his way, perhaps with a sketch of a nod.
  “You cannot destroy a dozen BattleMechs out of hand.”
  “Right,” Terry agreed hastily.
  “Of course not,” Klaus looked genuinely shocked at the suggestion. “The 
  objective is to deny them to the enemy. We will collapse the airliner around them. 
  There will be minor damage, but nothing signifi cant. The Federals lack the time 
  and resources required to excavate the buried BattleMechs.”
  Terry’s mouth twisted. He half listened as Klaus told off  details for the evacuation. 
  The plan had merit—if the objective was making sure the Fedrats didn’t capture 
  the Twelfth’s BattleMechs. He would never admit his shout of protest had not 
  been for their potential destruction, but against the certain death of the marsh 
  owl and her nest of eggs. The “mostly harmless” predator had made the Zephyr 
  her home. Surely her valiant defense of her nest had earned her….
  “Wait.” Terry didn’t shout, but something in his voice must have registered. 
  Klaus stopped issuing instructions mid-sentence, and even Firenze looked at him 
  expectantly. “I have a plan.”
  ▲▼▲
  KENNEBUNKPORT AIRFIELD 
  ORLEANS PROVINCE, PROSERPINA 
  DRACONIS MARCH, FEDERATED SUNS
  Ping.
  “Hold.”
  Mike followed her own command and froze. 
  “Did you get a spike?”
  “More like a pimple,” Balanchine answered. “But yes. There was something.”
  Beyond Mike’s canopy, the graveyard of Kennebunkport Airport closed around 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  103
  
   
  ARTIST: LES DORSCHEID
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH MANUAL
  YEAR: 1987
  YEAR: 1987
  YEAR: 1987
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  104
  
   
  ARTIST: DOUG CHAFFEE
  PUBLICATION: TECHNICAL READOUT: VEHICLE ANNEX
  YEAR: 2006
  YEAR: 2006
  YEAR: 2006
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  105
  
  C A M O S P E C S
  RAY ARRASTIA
  CHRIS DOLEGA
  JOEL HARDWICK
  DAVE FANJOY
  ROSS HINES
  MARK MAESTAS
  ED SMITH
  DAVID KERBER
  RAY
  RAY AR
  ARRAS
  RASTIA
  TIA
  ED
  ED
  ED
  ED SMI
  SMI
  SMI
  SMITH
  TH
  TH
  TH
  DAV
  DAV
  DAV
  DAVIDIDIDID KER
  KER
  KER
  KERBER
  BER
  BER
  BER
  DAV
  DAV
  DAVE F
  E F
  E FANJ
  ANJ
  ANJOY
  OY
  OY
  ROS
  ROS
  ROSS H
  S H
  S HINE
  INE
  INES
  MAR
  MAR
  MAR
  MARK M
  K M
  K M
  K MAES
  AES
  AES
  AESTAS
  TAS
  TAS
  TAS
  CHR
  CHR
  CHR
  CHRISISISIS DOL
  DOL
  DOL
  DOLEGA
  EGA
  EGA
  EGA
  JOE
  JOE
  JOEL H
  L H
  L HARD
  ARD
  ARDWIC
  WIC
  WICK
  Camo Specs Online is the offi  cial source for the camo specs of the 
  BattleTech universe. See more than 600 diff erent schemes already 
  represented, with frequent updates. 
  For more information, visit www.camospecs.com.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  106
  
  C A M O S P E C S
  RYAN PETERSON
  DAVID KERBER
  CAMOSPECS
  DREW WILLIAMS
  WILLIAM S. BURT
  LANCE SCARINCI
  RYA
  RYAN P
  N PETE
  ETERSO
  RSON
  CAM
  CAM
  CAM
  CAM
  CAM
  CAMOSP
  OSP
  OSP
  OSP
  OSP
  OSPECS
  ECS
  ECS
  ECS
  ECS
  ECS
  DRE
  DRE
  DRE
  DRE
  DRE
  DRE
  DREWW
  WW
  WW
  WW
  WW
  WW
  WWILL
  ILL
  ILL
  ILL
  ILL
  ILL
  ILLIAM
  IAM
  IAM
  IAM
  IAM
  IAM
  IAMS
  DAV
  DAVIDID KER
  KERBER
  BER
  LAN
  LAN
  LAN
  LANCECECECE SCA
  SCA
  SCA
  SCARIN
  RIN
  RIN
  RINCICICICI
  WIL
  WIL
  WIL
  WIL
  WILLIA
  LIA
  LIA
  LIA
  LIAM S
  M S
  M S
  M S
  M S BURT
  URT
  URT
  URT
  URT
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  107
  
  T A C T I C S  O F  B E T R A Y A L
  ARTIST: JIM HOLLOWAY
  PUBLICATION: MECHWARRIOR: THE BATTLETECH 
  ROLE PLAYING GAME
  YEAR: 1986
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  108
  
  T A C T I C S  O F  B E T R A Y A L
  T A C T I C S  O F  B E T R A Y A L
  from its place on the bulkhead, the transplex smooth under his fi ngers. Trapped like 
  fl ies in amber, the fi ve familiar faces were sandwiched between two thin layers of 
  material almost as hard as ’Mech armor, eternally caught in that moment in time. 
  His own trid image was younger. Sandy hair and brown eyes set in a narrow face 
  that had yet to be etched with the lines of experience and responsibility. Fresh from 
  the War Academy on Mars and wearing the dress uniform that would now be a poor 
  fi t for a body hardened by the last seven years of hard fi ghting. Graduation day. His 
  parents had been so proud. “Our son, the MechWarrior.”
  SATAN’S GARDEN
  MILTON
  TERRAN HEGEMONY
  18 NOVEMBER 2774
  The azure particle beam punched squarely into heavy chest armor, rocking the 
  Warhammer back on its heels. Electronics shrieking from the ionization discharge, 
  Captain Paul Rice fought to maintain his BattleMech’s balance as missiles from 
  two more Manticore Heavy Tanks gouged into its armored hide.
  “Damn! Captain!” Brian Mahone’s thick Coventry accent crackled in Rice’s ears. 
  “I told you to watch the fl ank!” The bulbous shape of Mahone’s Stalker moved 
  alongside the Warhammer and planted its feet on the rocky ground, kicking red 
  dust into the afternoon air. Where the Warhammer sported regulation olive drab 
  colors, Mahone had embraced the more relaxed standards of the Eighteenth 
  Volunteer Regiment. Rice felt the fl esh tone paint scheme was inappropriate, but 
  he was no longer serving in one of the Star League Defense Force’s line regiments. 
  The Stalker unleashed its own storm of missiles at the Rim Worlds Republic armor 
  before continuing its implacable advance.
  “Sorry, Brian. A little distracted there for a moment.” Rice pivoted his Warhammer 
  to snap off  a few shots at the nearest tank with his PPCs and medium lasers. Then 
  he felt the kick of the SRM launcher’s ripple fi re pattern as he followed up with 
  a well-placed salvo. The missiles scoured the blue and red shark emblem from 
  the vehicle’s turret armor. Trailing smoke, it scuttled away like a tracked crab, 
  seeking temporary cover in the rocks of Satan’s Garden. “Thanks for the save.” Rice 
  advanced his heavy ’Mech to join the Stalker in menacing the the enemy armor, 
  forcing them to pull back and join their wounded comrade.
  With the fi eld momentarily clear, Rice paused to listen to the company tacnet 
  as it came alive with reports of an enemy in full retreat. The probing attack on the 
  Eighteenth’s position had been decisively blunted as the lead Republican armor 
  units had blundered into Rice’s position. Finding themselves outgunned by his 
  Company’s Heavy and Assault ‘Mechs, the spearhead had settled for exchanging 
  halfhearted shots with the Star League Loyalists. Now they were running back 
  to the heights defending the eastern approaches to Paradise Foundation and 
  the safety of the Republican lines that had halted the Loyalist advance on the 
  planetary capital for the past week.
  Rice saw Hammond’s company moving up. She signaled Rice as her lighter 
  ’Mechs and hover tanks swept through the fi eld of house-sized boulders, looking 
  for stragglers. Smoothed by glaciation uncounted millennia ago, in the fading light 
  the massive rocks gave this place a surreal resemblance to the busy spaceports 
  of New Earth, like row upon row of silent stone DropShips ready to launch at a 
  moment notice.
  At the thought of home, he glanced at the trid picture secured above the bank 
  of secondary displays. Smiling faces from another time. Almost from another 
  universe.
  “People, let’s pull back and rearm and take a break. Hammond’s unit has the 
  line now.” Turning his ponderous Warhammer, Rice led the way back through 
  the fi eld fortifi cations. Thrown up by the engineers around the dry river bed, 
  this had been home to the Second Battalion for the last week. A cat’s cradle of 
  cables were strung between the larger boulders to support camoufl age netting, 
  looking like a red and brown stained glass ceiling concealing fi eld repair gantries, 
  orderly piles of drab grey shipping cases, and all the equipment needed to keep a 
  small army running. Huddling between this martial paraphernalia—almost as an 
  afterthought—were the tents. Identical in the beginning, each now bore a unique 
  and indelible fi ngerprint of dirt and wear from the long campaign on Alioth and 
  three months of fi ghting here on Milton.
  Rice backed his seventy-ton ’Mech into the waiting arms of the nearest repair 
  gantry with care, and the waiting tech crew swarmed over it to attach thick pipes 
  snaking to a coolant vehicle. Fresh coolant fl ushed the excess heat from the chassis 
  before the men and women could go to work on the battle scarred armor. Rice shut 
  down his ’Mech and released his restraints before easing the heavy neurohelmet 
  off  his head and into the rack behind his command couch. He unclipped the Solid 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  109
  MILTON
  World Name:
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  Position in System: 2
  Time to Jump Point:
  Number of Satellites:
  Surface Gravity:
  Atm. Pressure:
  Equatorial Temperature:
  Surface Water Coverage:
  Recharging Station:
  HPG Class Type:
  Highest Native Life:
  Population Size (2774):
  Socio-Industrial Levels:
  Milton, by all accounts an early paradise colony with rapidly 
  growing population and industry, suffered a catastrophic 
  economic collapse when its primary trading partner—Terra—cut 
  off all trade and communication to worlds more than one jump 
  away. Subsequently, Milton was easy prey for the expanding 
  Terran Hegemony. The planet thrived under the Hegemony 
  banner until Amaris’s usurpation ran into Kerensky’s army. In a 
  vain attempt to deny Milton’s industry to the advancing Loyalist 
  forces, Amaris’s troops ransacked the planet’s industrial centers. 
  The battles between Free Worlds and Lyran forces in the early 
  Succession Wars added insult to injury, reducing much of the 
  interior of two of Milton’s four continents, Phronx and Selajia, to 
  wastelands of chemical and biological poisons. 
  This devastation helped Milton somewhat in later centuries. 
  The planet was largely overlooked during the Federated 
  Commonwealth Civil War and the Jihad, aside from a desultory 
  orbital bombardment by retreating Blakist pocket WarShips, 
  which lacked the ﬁ repower and ammunition to signiﬁ cantly harm 
  the population or infrastructure. Consequently, Milton was one 
  of the few core planets to spring back to its feet after the Jihad 
  ended.
  i
  e
  i
  b
  e
  a
  a
  y
  l
  w
  l
  o
  u
   
  h
  a
  a
  .
  a
  m
  e
  t
  r
  l
  n
  e
  d
  f
  o
  e
  m
  m
  n
  H
  b
  d
  c
  d
  o
  N
  s
  i
  W
  a
  e
  G
  J
  e
  a
  T
  w
  a
   
  W
  e
  s
  t
  A
  m
  n
  a
  u
  a
  r
  i
  v
  y
  S
  e
  e
  r
  v
  a
  p
  y
  e
  :
  O
   
  m
  M
  e
  o
  e
  i
  y.
  l
  o
  o
  c
  L
  2
  i
  o
  o
  e
  i
  m
  a
  N
  g
  p
  l
  n
  e
  r
  M
  u
  e
  M
  m
  n
  n
  s
  4
  a
  u
  :
  T
  M
  u
  s
  W
  s
  n
  p
  a
  a
  i
  n
  e
  l
  n
  o
  o
  t
  d
  e
  d
  n
  s
  a
  s
  e
  m
  e
  j
  n
  e
  r
  n
  v
  s
  w
  r
  d
  h
  s
   
  r
  n
  o
  r
  s
  n
  f
  g
  .
  o
  u
  f
  a
  e
  e
  f
  o
  d
  c
  t
  a
  s
  n
  ky
  h
  h
  h
  r
  y
  e
  e
  S
  c
  t
  g
  r
  e
  x
  o
  e
  a
  t
  a
  r
  a
  f 
  e
  t
  y
  m
  u
  —
  o
  p
  growing population and industry, suffered a catastrophic 
  off all trade and communication to worlds more than one jump
  y
  q
  y
  y p
  y
  p
  g
  The battles between Free Worlds and Lyran forces in the early
  T
  banner until Amaris s usurpation ran into Kerensky s army In a
  ij
  S
  d
  h
  P
  i
  f
  ’
  i
  M
  f
  f
  wastelands of chemical and biological poisons.
  w
  l
  t
  l
  l
  l
  k d
  d
  i
  th
  F d
  t d
  Socio Industrial Levels:
  S
  Highest Native Life:
  S
  f
  W t
  C
  S
  Atm. Pressure:
  Ti
  t
  J
  P i t
  T
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  S
  MILTON
  TACTICS OF BETRAYAL
  D A V I D  L .  M C C U L L O C H
  
  T A C T I C S  O F  B E T R A Y A L
  T A C T I C S  O F  B E T R A Y A L
  covering the entrance to the mess tent. “Any word from your 
  folks?”
  Rice shook his head. “Nothing.” He felt the weight 
  of the lie tug at his belt as he ducked into the 
  tent.
  ▲▼▲
  He made his choice from the 
  limited 
  selection 
  of 
  ration 
  packs, 
  and 
  was 
  adding 
  boiling water to what the 
  label optimistically claimed 
  was Chicken Fajita when 
  Benedict Clancy caught his 
  attention by waving wildly 
  over the rest of the people 
  packed into the busy mess 
  tent. Sure that Rice had 
  seen him, Clancy indicated 
  the empty space at the end 
  of his table. Rice glanced 
  at Mahone, who was just 
  collecting a sachet of what 
  the 
  SLDF 
  Quartermasters 
  Corps guaranteed was almost 
  like Beef Risotto, and saw a shrug 
  of silent resignation. His nose was 
  assaulted by the aromas of fi eld 
  rations and too many bodies crammed 
  too close together as he weaved his way 
  through the throng to reach Clancy’s corner 
  table.
  “Paul! My main man! Sit you down. Take a load 
  off .” A wide grin threatened to split Clancy’s handsome 
  face from ear to ear as Rice and Mahone slipped onto the end 
  of the long benches. All the time his long, clever fi ngers toyed with a deck 
  of cards. “I hear the Sharks gave you a little excitement out there?” He negligently 
  fl ipped cards from the deck, creating four fans on the smooth plastic.
  Rice watched as Clancy briefl y examined the contents of each hand, sighed, 
  and returned the cards to the deck, shuffl  ing it with quick, economical precision. 
  “Nothing to write home about, Ben. Just some of their armor feeling us out again. 
  Don’t think they were that serious about it—they didn’t even bother to send any 
  of their ‘Mechs.”
  “A shame.” Clancy shrugged and dealt another phantom round of cards. “I guess 
  we just keep sitting here until our lords and masters pull their collective fi ngers 
  out and send us up that damned hill.” Unlike Rice and Mahone, Clancy didn’t hail 
  from a military background, and his grasp of military decorum was limited at 
  best. He was one of the thousands of Star League citizens who had off ered their 
  services to General Aleksandr Kerensky when their own governments had done 
  nothing after Stefan Amaris and his Rim Worlds Republic had seized control of the 
  Terran Hegemony. Personally, Rice doubted that patriotic fervor alone had driven 
  Clancy all the way across the Inner Sphere from his native Federated Suns. The 
  man had acquired quite a reputation of a card sharp in the Circinus boot camps, 
  and his insistence on being assigned to one of the Volunteer Regiments attached 
  to Admiral Brandt’s Task Force Commonwealth, rather than General DeChevilier’s 
  Task Force Sun, suggested Clancy had strong reasons for not returning home. 
  But in spite of this dubious reputation, he’d proven himself both a capable 
  MechWarrior and a leader. True, his approach was unconventional, and he ran 
  risks with the steel nerves of a professional gambler, but the results spoke for 
  themselves. After Waycliff  Ridge, nobody had been surprised when Clancy had 
  been given a Captain’s fi eld commission. “I don’t suppose you’d care for a quick 
  game? Four-Card Drax perhaps?” The usual thinly-veiled predatory glint shone in 
  Clancy’s eyes.
  Rice shook his head. “No thanks. I think I’d like to enjoy the company of what 
  little money I have a bit longer.”
  He pushed the cold picture slab into a belt pouch and 
  cracked open the hatch. The familiar, acrid smells of 
  burned coolant and of cooked armor wafted in on 
  the evening breeze, masking the dry, dusty air. 
  Negotiating the narrow hatch on the top 
  of the Warhammer’s sunken head was 
  complicated by his bulky cooling suit. 
  Rice counted himself lucky to still 
  have the Hegemony-manufactured 
  suit. Many of the Eighteenth’s 
  MechWarriors had to make 
  do with inferior cooling vests 
  like 
  those 
  used 
  in 
  the 
  armies of the Star League 
  member 
  states. 
  Indeed 
  most of the equipment 
  available to the Volunteer 
  Regiments—like 
  their 
  personnel—originated 
  from one of the so-called 
  Great Houses. Many of 
  the shipping crates here 
  bore markings indicating 
  their points of origin in the 
  Free Worlds League or Lyran 
  Commonwealth. Stepping onto 
  the repair gantry, Rice nodded 
  to the technician waiting to enter 
  the cockpit to perform the routine 
  systems checks.
  His thoughts were on the Solid at his 
  belt as he slowly descended the access 
  ladder. The other MechWarriors had been 
  impatient to dismount, and most headed for the 
  mess tent in a tight knot of noise. But Mahone hung 
  back, worried blue eyes peering out from under the bushy dark 
  eyebrows that dominated his tanned face. “Captain? Got a minute?” It was 
  never a good sign when he used Rice’s rank in place of the more informal “Boss”.
  Rice nodded. “Sure. What’s on your mind?” He waved the other man towards 
  the mess tent, and they walked slowly across a riverbed pounded fl at by the 
  passage of ’Mechs.
  “I think that’s my line.” Mahone brushed aside the braided hair trailing past his 
  left cheek. It had been three years since he had gone AWOL from the Second 
  Tamar Jaegers to join the fi ght against the Usurper, but he still wore his coarse, 
  black hair in the style of a Lyran MechWarrior. “Look Boss, you haven’t been on the 
  ball ever since we hit dirt. And you waltzed right into those Manticores today—
  you know that, right?” 
  “I guess I have been a little preoccupied since Alioth.” It wasn’t a lie. Not 
  exactly.
  “Having your home overrun by a psychotic, tin-pot dictator would do that, I 
  guess.” Mahone shrugged. “But as my old drill sergeant liked to say, there’s no time 
  for woolgathering when the depleted uranium is fl ying. If you get yourself killed, I’ll 
  have to run the whole goddammed company.” Brian Mahone was one of the few 
  members of the Eighteenth with prior combat experience when the regiment was 
  formed over two years ago. Of course they were all blooded veterans now. The ones 
  who actually survived the bloodbath on Alioth at least. “Or you might get some 
  of these jokers killed.” Mahone nodded at the noisy crowd entering the mess tent. 
  “Even worse, you could get me killed. I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t do that.”
  “I hear you, Lieutenant.” Of course Mahone wasn’t really a Lieutenant, no more 
  than Rice was really a Captain. But the Volunteer Regiments were desperately 
  short of offi  cers, and those they had were typically called on to “wear a bigger 
  hat,” as it were. Unlike the Regular Army, brevet promotions and fi eld commissions 
  were the rule rather than the exception. “I’ll try to pay attention in the future.” He 
  glanced at his subordinate. “I’m sure you’ll give me another poke if you see me 
  slipping?”
  A nod from Mahone. “Dammed straight I will.” The Lyran pulled back the fl ap 
  ss tent
  . “Noth
  is belt 
  ▲
  made 
  ted 
  s
  acks, 
  boiling 
  label o
  was C
  Bened
  atten
  over 
  pack
  tent. 
  seen 
  the e
  of his
  at Ma
  collecti
  he 
  SL
  orps gu
  Beef Ri
  ent resi
  ed by 
  nd too m
  gether 
  rong to
  n! Sit yo
  d to sp
  face from ear to ear as Rice and Mahone
  of the long benches. All the time his long, clever fing
  d pictu
  ch. Th
  cooke
  asking 
  w hatc
  unken
  ky coo
  lucky 
  nufact
  ghteen
  o mak
  g vest
  n 
  the
  eague
  deed 
  ment 
  nteer 
  heir 
  ted 
  alled 
  y of 
  here 
  cating 
  in the
  r Lyran
  ing on
  e nodd
  ng to 
  m the 
  on the 
  scende
  echWa
  t, and 
  not of
  s peering out from under the bushy dark 
  ted his tanned face. “Captain? Got a minute?” It was
  covering the entrance to the me
  folks?”
  Rice shook his head
  of the lie tug at h
  tent.
  He 
  limi
  pa
  b
  c
  th
  Co
  like 
  of sile
  assaulte
  rations an
  too close to
  through the th
  table.
  “Paul! My main man
  off .” A wide grin threatened
  face from ear to ear as Rice and M
  ure slab into a belt pouch and
  e familiar, acrid smells of 
  ed armor wafted in on
  the dry, dusty air. 
  ch on the top
  n head was
  oling suit. 
  to still
  tured 
  nth’s 
  ke
  ts 
  e 
  n 
  nto
  ded 
  enter 
  routine 
  Solid at his
  ed the access 
  arriors had been 
  most headed for the 
  f noise. But Mahone hung 
  ng out from under the bushy dark
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  110
  
  T A C T I C S  O F  B E T R A Y A L
  T A C T I C S  O F  B E T R A Y A L
  “Where’s your sense of adventure, Captain?” It was impossible to tell if Clancy’s 
  look of disappointment was feigned or real. 
  “I wasn’t issued one.” The traditional soldier’s reply was rewarded with 
  resurgence of that face-splitting grin.
  “Paul? Have you heard anything about tomorrow?” Further down the table Elena 
  Silverford examined a packet of crackers dubiously. Her petite build accentuated 
  the alien appearance imbued by the decision to shave her scalp for better contact 
  with the neurohelmet sensors. Formally an employee of the Pleasure Gardens on 
  Eaton in the Lyran Commonwealth, she piloted a Spider in Clancy’s Company.
  “Ira—” she pointed at Ira Eltsina, one of the handful of SLDF regulars assigned 
  to the Eighteenth. “—was saying there’s a lot of activity over at HQ.”
  “No.” He noticed Ira had abandoned her regulation fi eld uniform tunic for a 
  sweatshirt emblazoned with the red Cameron Star and crossed rifl es that the 
  Eighteenth had adopted as its unit emblem. “I’ve not been told anything new. 
  Just standing orders. Hold the line for now.”
  “General Dallas was here earlier,” Ira added from her side of the table.
  Rice looked up sharply, then glanced at Mahone shoveling Beef Risotto into 
  his mouth. The Lyran wiped a hand over his lips and nodded. The Eighteenth 
  had been attached to 413th BattleMech Division, and it was no secret that 
  Major General Elvis Dallas had been less than enthusiastic about having one of 
  the thirty-six Volunteer Regiments under his command. If Dallas had been seen 
  around camp, it was a good sign that the push toward the capital city was about 
  to resume. And the Eighteenth Volunteer Regiment would fi nd itself on the sharp 
  end once again.
  Rice took an unenthusiastic bite from his Chicken Fajita. It didn’t taste like 
  chicken. He didn’t know what it did taste like, but it wasn’t chicken. He wondered 
  if he would derive more pleasure from eating the meal’s packaging. Abandoning 
  all pretense of an appetite, he pushed the almost untouched meal away and 
  scanned the crowded tent, wondering who was watching. He listened to the 
  fl ow of conversation while his left hand felt for the sharp edges of the Solid safely 
  stowed way in the belt pouch. He’d been through a lot with these people. Enough 
  for them to earn his respect. Even if they were not Regular Army.
  And now the time had come for him to betray them all. 
  ▲▼▲
  The call came just after midnight. All Company commanders to assemble 
  aboard the regimental mobile headquarters. Paramesh, Milton’s second moon, 
  was just clawing its way above the horizon to join its distant brother, Faxon. The 
  night sky was clear and the air had a cold bite. Rice walked quickly through the 
  encampment under those widely-spaced moons, casting double shadows with 
  each step—one reassuringly solid, the other a grotesquely elongated wraith. 
  He entered the slab-sided vehicle that served at the Eighteenth’s headquarters. 
  Nodding to his fellow offi  cers, he squeezed past them down the length of the 
  vehicle to a spot where he could view the map table. The narrow space was 
  alive with anticipation. The very walls, festooned with electronics and displays, 
  seemed to strain outwards under the weight of it. Captain Hammond was the last 
  to arrive, out of breath and giving Colonel Jacob Goldstein an apologetic shrug as 
  she entered the rear hatch and pulled it closed.
  “Now that we’re all here,” Goldstein began with a typical lack of preamble. “I can 
  confi rm that the scuttlebutt you’ve doubtless been picking up is correct. We’re 
  looking at a large scale operation. It’s goal—to crack open the Republic lines and 
  get us up onto that plateau and out of this dust.” Dark-skinned and almost too tall 
  to qualify as a MechWarrior, Goldstein was another of the Regular Army offi  cers 
  assigned to the Eighteenth, and he looked far too young to be a Colonel. “Our 
  part is to assist in clearing the Sharks off  the Eastern Heights.” The Colonel paused 
  as muted groans and curses rippled though the assembly. It wouldn’t be the fi rst 
  time the Eighteenth had served as shock troops, but that didn’t mean they had 
  to like it. “Mission specifi cs are on your data cards,” he waved to a lanky-looking 
  Corporal who looked completely out of place in uniform as she moved through 
  the compartment, distributing memory cards packed with the maps, images, 
  and plans for the assault. Rice took the small square of yellow plastic from the 
  young Corporal. It felt too light to contain such important information. It certainly 
  didn’t look like an instrument of treachery. “Study them. Get your people briefed.” 
  Goldstein’s voice drew Rice’s attention back from the data card. “I’ll let Major Block 
  give you an overview of the operation.
  ARTIST: JEFF LAUBENSTEIN
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH FOURTH EDITION
  YEAR: 1996
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  111
  
  T A C T I C S  O F  B E T R A Y A L
  T A C T I C S  O F  B E T R A Y A L
  The interior of the mobile headquarters felt almost spacious after the other 
  offi  cers had departed. Block had lingered for nearly an hour—manipulating the 
  map table controls with economical movements punctuating long minutes of 
  silent contemplation. A Grand Master studying a chessboard formed by the grid 
  of the map table. Moving pieces with deadly precision in a game with an invisible 
  opponent. But Block was gone now, and the vehicle would have been silent 
  except for the quiet hum of equipment grinding through monotonous tasks with 
  mindless devotion to duty. The only other sound was an occasional murmur from 
  the lone communication technician as he broke his silent vigil to deal with routine 
  communications. Despite the best eff orts of a fi ltration system that could defeat 
  any know biological or chemical agent, the air still smelt of a curious mix of old 
  coff ee, oil and sweat.
  Unless there was an emergency, Rice really had nothing to do but sit and wait.
  He reached for the Solid, stared at Peter grinning wildly. He’d been a Mechhead 
  from the day he could talk. Rice remember the ten-year-old’s joy at the news 
  that his older sibling had been accepted to the War Academy. How he had been 
  enthused about getting a chance of his own in another six years. About how he 
  was going to be a MechWarrior, just like his big brother. It had been a crushing 
  blow when he’d failed the dreaded Skull Cap test. Rice himself had experienced 
  only mild discomfort as he sat in an SLDF recruiting offi  ce and willed the tiny 
  BattleMech to stay upright as it walked. But the neural feedback had Peter heaving 
  his guts out while the model promptly fell over. The Recruiting Sergeant had 
  been nice enough about the uniform. He’d probably seen hundreds of teenager’s 
  dreams crash and burn in the feedback loop. But Peter’s plans of following his 
  brother were over. Secretly Rice had been glad, and a bit guilty. The academy and 
  his experiences on the battlefi eld has uncovered the harsh reality lurking beneath 
  the gilded title MechWarrior. He’d told himself Peter would at least be safe in some 
  civilian career back on New Earth with the rest of the family.
  But that was not how things had turned out.
  The chronometer on Rice’s wrist vibrated its silent reminder. It was almost time. 
  Stretching, he stood and walked to the metal coff ee pot clamped to a hot plate 
  beside the rear hatch. Lifting the pot, he shook it experimentally. It was empty. No 
  surprise there. As on other nights, he’d surreptitiously dumped the contents out 
  the rear hatch over an hour earlier. Rice turned to wave the pot at the technician. 
  “Looks like we’re out of coff ee again. I don’t think those Beta shift slackers ever fi ll 
  this thing up!” This last evoked a snort from Sergeant Cosworth. “Why don’t you 
  take a break? Get over to the mess tent and get this thing fi lled?”
  “You sure, Captain?” Cosworth frowned slightly.
  “I’ve got the watch, so I can’t go anywhere.” Rice shrugged. “But I can mind the 
  store for ten minutes. I think I can remember enough from basic training to handle 
  an incoming message if I have to.” He waved the empty coff ee pot towards the 
  hatch. “Get moving. And take this thing with you. The sooner you go, the sooner 
  you can bring me back some fresh coff ee. Consider that an order.”
  “Yes Sir! Captain!” Cosworth fl ipped Rice a ragged salute and took the pot with 
  him. Rice slid into a vacant chair at the communications station. He listened as 
  the Sergeant’s footsteps faded into the night, then pulled the data card from his 
  pocket. The interface was standard. Slot it in and a handful of keystrokes later its 
  digital contents were spilling onto the screen before him. It was all here. Block’s 
  mission outline. Force deployments. Routes. Timetables. A few more commands, 
  and the data was copied to the transmission data buff er. Now all it would take was 
  a single keystroke at the prearranged time to send the message and its deadly 
  attachments on its way. One press of a key to save his family. One press of a key 
  to make him a traitor.
  Traitor. That was the fi rst time Rice had confronted the word since the trid Solid 
  had appeared on his bunk three weeks ago. Instructions had followed. What kind 
  of information he was to gather. When and how to transmit it so that it would 
  be lost in the background noise of routine communications. The promise of 
  what would happen if he did not cooperate. He hadn’t thought of himself as a 
  traitor. He had been too wrapped up worrying about his mother and father, his 
  brother, and his sister. Too busy fi xing the duty roster so he would be in position 
  at the appointed time. He had tried to identify his faceless tormentor, but with 
  no luck. The instructions kept coming. Fearing for his family and not knowing 
  who he could trust, he had said nothing. The Republicans must have somebody 
  close. Somebody who could move through the camp and leave that package. 
  Somebody who could be watching him right now. With people coming from all 
  over the Inner Sphere, it would have been easy to slip agents into the Volunteer 
  Anthony Block was waiting silently at the head of the map table, gazing down 
  at a map grid with that imperturbable air that Rice had come to know well. The 
  man’s compact build gave a sense of solidity that was emphasized by his rough-
  hewn features. There was an ageless but unfi nished look to his face. Rice was 
  struck with the fanciful notion that he might have been carved out of solid rock 
  by a sculptor who had abandoned the work before adding the fi ne details. Only 
  the pure silver hair hinted at his true age. Block, formally Brother Anthony, came 
  from  Gibraltar in the Free World’s League. He had left the Brotherhood of the Rock 
  when that sect of Warrior-Monks had refused to involve itself in the struggle for 
  the Terran Hegemony and control of the Star League. Nobody made an issue of it, 
  but everyone in the Eighteenth Volunteer Regiment knew that it had been Block’s 
  tactical genius that had steered them through seven months of brutal fi ghting 
  on Alioth. Goldstein knew it too, and thankfully had been smart enough to let 
  his second-in-command deal with strategy and tactics while he concentrated on 
  leading his troops into battle.
  “Current troop dispositions, to the best of our knowledge, are as follows.” Block 
  spoke with the perfect pronunciation of someone for which English was a second 
  language. Expert hands manipulated the map controls to highlight features. “We 
  are here. On the far left of Satan’s Garden. General Salvador’s 515th Brigade is 
  to our right, and General Smith’s 81st Brigade is in reserve.” Each of the friendly 
  regiments were outlined in turn with pulsing blue. “Our opponents consist of 
  elements of the Twenty-third Republican Division. As you will  remember, we 
  faced a couple of their regiments on Alioth.”
  An almost imperceptible shudder of shared pain ran through the assembly. 
  The Fourteenth Amaris Dragoons and Twenty-third Battle Regiment had dropped 
  right into the rear of the 413th Division, threatening to catch the Loyalist forces 
  in a vice. Major General Dallas had thrown the Eighteenth Volunteer Regiment 
  into the line in a desperate bid to buy time to consolidate his forces. For Rice, the 
  battle had dissolved into a maelstrom of smoke, fi re, and blood as the Eighteenth 
  had held the enemy off . Just. 
  Block continued, his tone low and measured, as always. “On the ridge is the 
  Forty-third Amaris Hussars, the heavy armor of the 212th Amaris Cuirassiers, 
  two Battalions from the Twenty-second Amaris Dragoons, and a Brigade of 
  mechanized infantry. They have also concentrated the bulk of their air power to 
  hold the city, and they still have a battalion of artillery that has been hampering 
  our attempts to dislodge them from this line.”
  Clancy frowned at the red line pulsing malevolently on the map table. 
  “We’re going to have a hard time cracking that ridge with that lot up there 
  waiting for us.”
  Block nodded. “Indeed. Neither side possesses air supremacy, and their 
  umbrella of massed artillery is formidable. Our attempts to entice the enemy out 
  from beneath it have been unsuccessful. However, they have made a mistake in 
  the siting of their positions. A classic one, in fact.” Clancy murmured something 
  about land wars and Asia under his breath, but Block ignored him. “They have 
  adhered slavishly to the concept of holding the high ground, and as a result they 
  have created a salient in their lines. Here.”
  Under Block’s direction the map table zoomed in on the Republican right fl ank. 
  Here, the ridge bowed outwards and the red line obediently followed. “The plan 
  is simple. While General Salvador mounts a demonstration on our right—their 
  left fl ank—we can advance through Satan’s Garden. The broken terrain will help 
  mask our approach. That salient is the weak point. We can hit it from both sides 
  and break their line. General Smith can then bring his Brigade up to exploit the 
  breakthrough.”
  Rice lent forwards with the others to study the map table. It was a good 
  plan. Normally he would have given it an excellent chance of achieving all of its 
  objectives. Normally.
  “Thank you, Major.” Colonel Goldstein nodded his thanks as he returned to 
  the map table. “The 515th will begin their demonstration at dawn.” He glanced 
  at the master clock on the mobile, HQ’s forward bulkhead. “That is fi ve Standard 
  hours from now. We step off  just before mid-day. Get some sleep while you can. I 
  want your people briefed, buttoned up, and ready to go by H hour minus one.” He 
  turned to Block. “Who has the watch for the graveyard shift?”
  Block glanced at a data pad. “Captain Rice will have the watch until oh-fi ve-
  hundred Colonel.”
  Goldstein gazed over the map table at Rice. “Very well. You have the watch, 
  Captain. Everyone else, dismissed.”
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  112
  
  T A C T I C S  O F  B E T R A Y A L
  between love of family and duty, training, and pride of who he once had been. 
  Perversely, the time, which had been content to drag on ponderously, now raced 
  past like water.
  He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t. Rice started to pull his hands back from the 
  keyboard.
  Then a solid blow slammed into the base of his skull.
  ▲▼▲
  Darkness.
  “Hey, man! You sleeping on duty?” The blurry outline of Benedict Clancy’s 
  face swam into focus as he shook Rice’s shoulders. “They shoot you for 
  that, don’t they?”
  “Whaa?” The hideous throbbing in Rice’s head was not helped at all 
  by the movement.
  “I stopped by to keep you company in the gloomy hours and fi nd 
  you catching Zs in here. Hardly what I’ve come to expect from an 
  offi  cer and a gentleman like yourself.” Clancy let go of him and glanced 
  around. “Where is everybody anyway?”
  Rice started upright, but clutched the comms desk as wave of dizziness 
  washed over him. The master chronometer told him he’d only been out 
  for a few minutes, but he’d missed the transmission 
  window. “Err...They’re taking a break. Should be 
  back any minute.” He turned carefully, not wanting 
  to aggravate his headache with more sudden 
  movements. “You didn’t see anyone else around 
  when you came in?” The rear hatch was open, but 
  there were no signs of anything out of place.
  “No mate, just you, dead to the world.” Clancy looked 
  at him quizzically. “You expecting company? Fear not! Your secret is safe 
  with me. At least until I need a loan.” He winked as he started towards 
  the open hatch. ”Guess I’d better go fi nd your crew—tell ’em you’re 
  getting lonely stuck in here all by yourself while they enjoy the excellent 
  cuisine served up by the army boys. Don’t go falling asleep again. I’ll check 
  back on you later.” Clancy strode into the night with a casual wave.
  Pulling himself to his feet, Rice followed Clancy to the hatch on rubbery 
  legs. The cool night air revived him fully. Outside, the encampment was 
  still. The night silence was disturbed only by distant sounds from the 
  repair gantries as technicians worked to prepare the ’Mechs and 
  combat vehicles by morning. Rice watched Clancy stride off  in the 
  direction of the mess tent, then closed the hatch and returned 
  to the chair. His head throbbed wickedly as he slumped at the 
  communications station.
  Who had hit him? And why? To stop him from transmitting? That 
  didn’t make any sense. If somebody had caught him betraying the 
  Eighteenth to the Republicans, they wouldn’t have just slugged 
  him and walked off . He’d be in the stockade by now, awaiting a 
  court martial to decide how he was going to die. Not sitting here 
  with a splitting headache trying guess who had given it to him. 
  Clancy? That didn’t fi t for the same reason. If he had decided to 
  sneak up on Rice and slug him, why hang around to wake him 
  up again and then say nothing? And now what was he supposed 
  to do? He’d missed his transmission window for tonight. How 
  would his secret masters interpret that lapse? Was a message already 
  speeding towards New Earth? Was his family about to suff er terrible retribution 
  for his failure? Rice glanced at the transmission logs. That wasn’t right. He hadn’t 
  initiated the transmission. He was sure of it. But according to the records, a 
  transmission had been made from this station on the prearranged frequency at 
  the correct time. Had he been attacked because somebody thought he wasn’t
  going to transmit the battle plans? Had his faceless tormentor been watching, 
  and had chosen to take more direct action when they had seen him locked in 
  indecision? But why had he just been knocked out and not killed? Was Republican 
  Intelligence really so sure of their hold over him that they knew he wouldn’t raise 
  the alarm. Had it been Clancy after all? Was he the one who had turned Rice into 
  a traitor?
  C S
  O F
  B E T R A Y A L
  nd duty, training, an
  h had been content
  st couldn’t. Rice sta
  mmed into the ba
  ▲▼
  eping on duty?” T
  cus as he shook
  ?”
  e hideous throbb
  ent.
  by to keep you 
  Zs in here. Ha
  ntleman like yo
  s everybody a
  right, but clutc
  . The master c
  for a few min
  window. “
  back any
  to aggr
  movem
  when y
  there wer
  “No mate, j
  y. “You expe
  t until I nee
  ”Guess I’d
  ck in here 
  y the army
  Clancy st
  to his feet
  ght air rev
  silence w
  s as tec
  cles by m
  the me
  r. His he
  tions sta
  hit him
  e any se
  to the
  alked o
  al to d
  tting h
  That d
  p on R
  n and 
  e’d m
  would his secret mas
  ew Earth?
  T A C T I C S  O F  B E T R
  between love of family an
  Perversely, the time, which
  past like water.
  He couldn’t do it. He jus
  keyboard.
  Then a solid blow slam
  Darkness.
  “Hey, man! You slee
  face swam into foc
  that, don’t they?
  “Whaa?” The
  by the moveme
  “I stopped b
  you catching Z
  offi  cer and a ge
  around. “Where i
  Rice started upr
  washed over him.
  f
  at him quizzically
  with me. At least
  the open hatch. 
  getting lonely stuc
  cuisine served up by
  back on you later.” 
  Pulling himself t
  legs. The cool nig
  still. The night s
  repair gantrie
  combat vehic
  direction of 
  to the chair
  communicat
  Who had 
  didn’t make
  EiEiEiEiEiEiEighteenth 
  him and wa
  court martia
  with a split
  Clancy? T
  sneak up
  up again
  to do? He
  would his secret
  Regiments. Easy for one of them to turn Captain Paul Rice of 
  the Star League Defense Force into a traitor. So far, he had done 
  little damage. The meager scraps of information he’d transmitted on previous 
  nights had been of no real tactical value. At best, they would have only confi rmed 
  intelligence gathered by other means. Until now, the acts of betrayal had been 
  such little things.
  Rice glanced at the master chronometer. The seconds marched past, each one 
  taking longer then the last. He wasn’t a traitor. He was a Star League Offi  cer who 
  knew his duty. How could he do this?
  How could he not?
  Each second was a lifetime now. Rice’s index fi nger edged closer towards that 
  fi nal key. He was into the transmission window now, but he sat hunched at the 
  communications station. He was locked into immobility by the internal battle 
  ARTIST: DANA KNUTSON
  PUBLICATION: TECHNICAL READOUT: 3050
  YEAR: 1990
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  113
  
  T A C T I C S  O F  B E T R A Y A L
  T A C T I C S  O F  B E T R A Y A L
  With shaking hands, Rice erased all traces of his activity and pocketed the data 
  card.
   
  ▲▼▲
  Rice pushed hard to lead the attack up the ridge. He had betrayed his comrades. 
  Nothing could change that now. All he could do was stay silent and hope for 
  was that the Republicans would be satisfi ed and would spare his family. And 
  that he would die in the fi rst charge. But Colonel Goldstein had been adamant. 
  The assignments had already been made. It was far to late to change them now. 
  His Company would anchor the left fl ank and act as the reserve. It would be a 
  perfect position from which to watch the destruction of the Eighteenth Volunteer 
  Regiment.
  His head still throbbing, Rice sat in his Warhammer and listened to the distant 
  rumbles from General Salvador’s diversion on the right. The Solid was back in place 
  above the secondary displays. He’d knew he had made an awful mess of things. If 
  only he could speak with Susan. She smiled at him out of the Solid. Always ready 
  with quick joke and sound advice. What would she say now?
  The Eighteenth was staring their advance now. Colonel Goldstein’s Black Knight 
  marched in the vanguard, leading a mix of ’Mechs, combat vehicles, and infantry 
  through Satan’s Garden to land the fi rst blow on the exposed salient.
  The rumbling on the right intensifi ed—the sound of a long-range missile duel 
  between the diversionary force and the Republican defenders. No artillery yet. The 
  Republicans wouldn’t waste it on a diversion. They’d wait until the Eighteenth’s 
  advance brought them into range.
  “Boss. This is Mahone. I’m picking up seismic readings from the north.” Rice 
  glanced down at his own sensors to see that Mahone was correct. The readings 
  were still some distance off  and intermittent, but they told of a signifi cant mass in 
  motion. Or a lot of masses in motion.
  “What the devil were you doing monitoring your seismic?” BattleMechs were 
  extravagantly equipped with a bewildering array of sensors, but MechWarriors 
  concentrated on IR, radar, and visible light primarily.
  “Block suggested I might want to keep an eye on them. You know how that 
  goes.” Rice could almost hear Mahone shrug over the comms channel. Pawns 
  seldom got to ask the chess master questions.
  “Right.” Rice bit his lower lip in thought as he consulted the charts for this part 
  of Satan’s Garden. “All units! Shift fi ve hundred meters north and take a position 
  at the head of the dry creek bed.” Rice’s Warhammer lumbered into motion as his 
  command swung about and followed him through the rocks. “Command One, this 
  is Baker One Actual. Be advised I’m redeploying to meet a possible fl ank attack.”
  “This is Command One.” That was Block—presumably aboard the HQ vehicle. 
  “Acknowledged. Identify targets and report.”
  Rice brought the Warhammer to a halt between Mahone’s Stalker and Shelly 
  Sung’s Orion. Further down the draw, he saw great clouds of dust churned up 
  into the air. Dark shapes moved in the haze. Towering, humanoid shapes with 
  an occasional glint of refl ected sunlight from weapons or armor. Rice pulled up 
  a magnifi ed image on his primary display and studied it briefl y before opening 
  the command channel again. “Command One, this is Baker One Actual. I’ve got a 
  positive visual on a third Battalion of the Twenty-second Amaris Dragoons. They 
  are about to hit the left fl ank. Contact in three minutes. Please advise?” Rice knew 
  his single Company wouldn’t stop this fl ank attack. It would roll right over his 
  command and slam into the First Battalion from behind.
  It looked like Rice was going to get his wish after all and die at the forefront for 
  this battle.
  “Command One to Baker One. Hold position.” Rice had been expecting it, but 
  hearing the order that sentenced him and his people to death issued so calmly 
  left a cold lead weight in his stomach. “Delta One.” That was Clancy’s Company. 
  They were supposed to be advancing with Colonel Goldstein! “Zulu Fifteen is 
  waiting on Tac Freq Four. Call the ball.” 
  “Got it, Command One.” Rice heard the big grin on Clancy’s face.
  Of to the west Rice caught a glimpse of swiftly moving BattleMechs, Elena 
  Silverford’s Spider in the lead. Confused, he opened the inter-company channel. 
  “Delta One. What in God’s name are you doing here?’
  “Hi there Baker One.” Clancy’s adherence to communications protocols were 
  just a little... loose. “Slight change of plan. Looks like we ain’t getting to storm the 
  parapets today. Scuse me. I’ve got to take care of your new friends.” There was a 
  pop of static as Clancy switched channels.“ Zulu Fifteen! You out there, my good 
  buddy?”
  There was a slightly off ended silence.  “This is Zulu Fifteen Actual. You have 
  business for us Delta One?”
  “Sure thing. Your coordinates are grid twelve, square seventeen. Send the mail 
  at your discretion.” Clancy switched back to the Regimental network. “Hey, Rice. 
  Better hunker down real small now.” 
  The sky was suddenly split asunder at the Eighty-seventh Artillery regiment 
  threw everything they had at the closely packed Republican BattleMechs that 
  had strayed out from beneath the protection of their own artillery support.
  It was as if a giant had reached down to wrench the ground out from beneath 
  the Warhammer’s feet. Rice fought to keep the BattleMech upright as a storm of 
  destruction scythed through the densely packed Republican machines. Smoke 
  and debris fi lled the creek bed, obscuring his view of the enemy. Clancy was 
  calling in a second barrage now, and Rice braced himself for another typhoon of 
  destruction.
  And then there was silence.
  Out of the smoke and dust a single form emerged. It was one of the new RFL-3N 
  Rifl emen. Ravaged by the awful barrage, its armor was battered and broken. The 
  right arm autocannon had been ripped away, and a ferocious fi re blazed in the 
  ammunition feed track. But wounded horribly as it was, the Rifl eman was still full 
  of fi ght. Laser and autocannon fi re lashed out from its undamaged left arm to fl ay 
  Mahone’s Stalker as other battered forms stumbled into view.  “All units! Engage! 
  Take ‘em down!” Rice targeted the Rifl eman and fi red his PPCs in one smooth 
  action as more fi re tore into the Republican survivors.
  ▲▼▲
  Block found him sitting at the edge of the draw overlooking the blasted course 
  left by that devastating barrage of massed artillery. Pieces of BattleMechs littered 
  the ground, and the air was thick with the stench of missile exhaust, charred 
  insulation and myomers, and spilled coolant. The few Dragoons who’d survived 
  the follow-up salvo had been in no shape to stand up to the combined fi repower 
  of Rice’s and Clancy’s Companies. The fi ght had been brutal and short. Rice was 
  studying the Solid as Block approached. “You used me.” His voice was almost 
  toneless. Too much had happened over the past day for him to fuel it with any 
  passion.
  Block studied him for a moment. “Yes.” The bluntness of the answer surprised 
  Rice. “It’s what I’m supposed to do.”
  “How?” Rice looked up. “How did you know it was me? Was I that...” He searched 
  for the right word.
  “Clumsy?” Block asked.
  A stab of pride made Rice grimace. “Obvious. Was I really that obvious?”
  “No. Not really.” Block shook his head. “It was inevitable that Republican 
  Intelligence would see the Volunteer regiments as an opportunity. Anticipating 
  that provided us with an opportunity of our own. Intelligence Command 
  manufactured little tid-bits of information. Think of them as breadcrumbs. By 
  monitoring Republican responses, they followed one such trail back to you. It 
  wasn’t hard to guess what they had on you to ensure your cooperation. It was just 
  a question of how we could exploit the leak.”
  The image of chess pieces moving with orchestrated precision across a game 
  board fl ashed in Rice’s mind. “So what happens now?”
  “To you?” Block absently rubbed a balled right fi st with his left hand. “You make 
  a very poor traitor. Perhaps you should be a MechWarrior?”
  “You hit me?” Rice felt a memory of pain stabbed the back of his head.
  “A little bit.” Block shrugged. “I had my most excellent deception in place, and 
  your sudden attack of conscience threatened to ruin everything.”
  Rice held up the Solid. “What about them?”
  “I, unlike you, made a choice. The consequences for your family could be grave.” 
  Block spread his hands. “I can make no promises. We have contacts. People who 
  may be able to get them out, or at least hide them.”
  Rice felt a glimmer of hope for his family for the fi rst time in weeks. “What about 
  the spy? Somebody in the Eighteenth is a Republican agent. For a while there I 
  thought it was Clancy, but if it was you who hit me...”
  Block’s lips twitched with a faint smile. “Ah. I have an idea on how to deal with 
  that particular problem. If you would be willing to assist me?”
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  114
  
  T A C T I C S  O F  B E T R A Y A L
  ARTIST: ALAN GUITIERREZ
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH SECOND EDITION
  YEAR: 1985
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  115
  
   
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: CLASSIC BATTLETECH: A GAME OF ARMORED COMBAT
  YEAR: 2002
  YEAR: 2002
  YEAR: 2002
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  116
  
   
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: CLASSIC BATTLETECH: A GAME OF ARMORED COMBAT
  YEAR: 2002
  YEAR: 2002
  YEAR: 2002
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  117
  
   
  ARTIST: LES DORSCHEID
  PUBLICATION: BLOODRIGHT
  YEAR: 1992
  YEAR: 1992
  YEAR: 1992
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  118
  
   
  ARTIST: MICHAEL KORMARCK
  PUBLICATION: A BONFIRE OF WORLDS (NOVEL)
  YEAR: 2009
  YEAR: 2009
  YEAR: 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  119
  
  T H E  W A L K I N G  D E A D
  ARTIST: DOUG CHAFFEE
  PUBLICATION: TECHNICAL READOUT: 3050 UPGRADE
  YEAR: 2007
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  120
  
  T H E  W A L K I N G  D E A D
  OUTSKIRTS OF MUNICH
  RADSTADT
  GHOST BEAR DOMINION
  7 MARCH 3074
  Star Captain Anjo Bekker stared into the valley where the capital city of Munich 
  was nestled and gritted his teeth. He was frustrated—no. He was mad as hell. 
  Clan Ghost Bear was moving in for the kill and he was being used to cover the 
  right fl ank. 
  The fi ghting on Radstadt had been a far cry from the battle the Khan had 
  predicted. A group of mercenaries hired by the Word of Blake—Karver’s Korps—
  had been terrorizing the citizens of Radstadt. When the Ghost Bears attacked, the 
  Korps withdrew to several key cities in the northern reaches. Looking back, it was 
  easy for Bekker to see that the Word of Blake had left them to their own designs. 
  Facing the fury of the Ghost Bears, Karver’s Korps had opted to slug it out. For a 
  while they fought, laying waste to two cities in the process. Then, deprived of the 
  support of their benefactors, they broke and fl ed. The Ghost Bears took it for a 
  rout—they were simply mercenaries after all—but in reality the Korps led them 
  into a trap. Anjo fi rmly believed that his leaders knew it was a trap but had faith in 
  the capabilities of their warriors to break any trap that was sprung. 
  The trap was the Word of Blake’s Forty-third Shadow Division—Haborym’s 
  Legion. Hidden on Radstadt and dug in, they were waiting for the Ghost Bears. 
  Star Captain Bekker had been one of the warriors who had fi rst stumbled onto 
  them. They were concealed everywhere in the hills, hiding in little bolt-holes that 
  held a squad or two of troopers, or a few ‘Mechs or vehicles. The bolt-holes were 
  heavily camoufl aged and often the Shadow Division troops emerged behind the 
  Ghost Bears. 
  These were not normal troops, as if the word “normal” could be applied to the 
  Word of Blake. These were more machine than men. The Ghost Bears referred to 
  them as “abominations” and Star Captain Bekker thought that description was 
  apt. Cybernetic warriors, these Manei Domini troops fl ew in the face of everything 
  the Ghost Bears stood for. Some were in battle armor that was more a part of 
  their bodies than worn—others were in “conventional” squads. They were vicious 
  fi ghters—that, at least, he respected. They struck like cowardly freebirths though, 
  striking from behind or underneath.
  They did not display honor but instead behaved more like homicidal maniacs. He 
  had seen the result of their fi ghting: the cockpit of a Kit Fox that had been breached 
  by the abominations in battle armor. The MechWarrior’s blood had painted the 
  inside of the cockpit. The Manei Domini BattleMechs fought with ferocity that 
  bordered on insanity. They had ganged up on several Ghost Bears, overwhelming 
  them before ripping apart the Clan ‘Mechs for the apparent thrill of it.
  The fi ghting had been brutal but the fi erceness of the Ghost Bears’ assault had 
  eventually driven the Word into a steady withdrawal. Now, all that remained was 
  to push through Munich to the spaceport beyond. It was there that the Word 
  of Blake would make a stand. Assaulting Munich was a military necessity. Anjo 
  Bekker, and several other Ghost Bears were assigned to the cover the fl ank of the 
  main drive. He wanted to be where the heavy fi ghting was but instead he was 
  poised along the edge of the assault. “Be prepared to engage if needed,” the Star 
  Colonel had said. Elements of the Third Claw and the Fifth Bear Regulars started 
  their drive into the outskirts of Munich while Anjo and his Star were refi tted and 
  repaired.
  His eyes were looking low and to the left when the fl ash came. At fi rst he 
  thought he had been hit by a particle projector cannon. It was a brilliant white 
  fl ash, bright as the sun. His armored cockpit glass reacted to protect his eyes from 
  the brilliance but even so he saw that it was not natural. Warning alarms blared 
  the instant the light hit him. A moment later his BattleMech rocked in place. A hot 
  wind swamped his BattleMech, as if a hurricane had suddenly arrived.
  A few moments later he felt hot—no, boiling. A ripple of nausea came over him. 
  He managed to open the visor of his neurohelmet in time to avoid fi lling his helmet 
  with vomit. The alarm beeped for his attention. Looking over to his secondary he 
  saw it was not a damage warning. It was far worse. The NBC—nuclear, biological, 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  121
  RADSTADT
  World Name:
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  Position in System:
  Time to Jump Point:
  Number of Satellites: 
  Surface Gravity:
  Atm. Pressure:
  Equatorial Temperature:
  Surface Water:
  Recharging Station:
  HPG Class Type:
  Highest Native Life:
  Population (3074):
  Socio-Industrial Levels:
  Once part of the Principality of Rasalhague, Radstadt fell to 
  the Draconis Combine in the 24th century. The ﬁ erce resistance 
  of the people of Rasalhague could be seen on Radstadt, which 
  was noted for hosting the largest prison complex in the Draconis 
  Combine (a title not easily obtained). The Lotus Flower Correctional 
  Institution was maintained by the Free Rasalhague Republic as 
  a museum and reminder of what the people of Radstadt fought 
  to free themselves from, but after Radstadt’s conquest, Clan 
  Ghost Bear returned parts of the prison—notably, the Black 
  Tower—to their original use. (Because the Clans are inclined 
  to execute rebels and dangerous criminals, the facility remains 
  largely empty.)
  The rest of the planet is nondescript, if thinly populated by 
  Inner Sphere standards. Bountiful oceans and the local ﬁ shing 
  industry supply much of the population’s protein, and the timber 
  industry is noted for Radstadt pine, which produces wood that, 
  when treated, shimmers as if ﬂ ecked with gold. The decentralized 
  population and sympathetic merchant caste administrators have 
  prevented Radstadt from suffering unduly under Clan Ghost 
  Bear’s efforts to install a Clan-style economy that suppresses 
  the planet’s free-form capitalism and “unnecessary” economic 
  activities (most of the service and industrial sectors) as wasteful. 
  Despite their efforts and the Clan vow to house and feed anyone 
  willing to work their quotas, however, unemployment has climbed 
  to more than a quarter of the population.
  s
  r
  e
  e
  x
  e
  s
  e
  u
  t
  b
  n
  e
  D
  c
  o
  u
   
  h
  a
  a
  .
  a
  m
  e
  t
  r
  l
  A
  s
  h
  s
  m
  e
  o
  e
  h
  m
  n
  (
  d
  o
  o
  a
  d
  o
  N
  s
  i
  W
  a
  e
  G
  J
  e
  a
  D
  y
  )
  b
  e
  r
  s
  d
  s
  e
  C
  o
  r
  3
  v
  y
  S
  e
  e
  r
  v
  a
  p
  y
  e
  :
  S
  u
  d
  a
  r
  n
  s
  m
  t t
  t
  a
  b
  e
  L
  4
  i
  o
  e
  i
  m
  a
  A
  f
  s
  n
  d
  a
  p
  o
  e
  n
  l
  h
  h
  s
  u
  :
  T
  D
  o
  s
  e
  s
  b
  b
  t
  r
  e
  e
  a
  e
  T
  u
  f
  n
  B
  a
  a
  d
  t
  u
  t
  o
  o
  c
  c
  u
  e
  e
  h
  s
  e
  n
  a
  p
  s
  a
  t
  o
  s
  o
  a
  t
  o
  e
  y
  h
  i
  d
  h
  h
  C
  n
  t
  o
  h
  l
  n
  e
  e
  n
  e
  a
  s
  b
  o
  d
  e
  r
   
  d
  c
  a
  h
  a
  u
  e
  h
  e
  d
  p
  r
  D
  d
  e
  m
  d
  m
  B
  C
  u
  c
  c
  w
  a
  e
  the Draconis Combine in the 24th century. The ﬁ erce resistance 
  was noted for hosting the largest prison complex in the Draconis
  w
  y
  Tower—to their original use
  (Because the Clans are inclined
  T
  a museum and reminder of what the people of Radstadt fought
  a
  )
  l
  The rest of the planet is nondescript, if thinly populated by
  T
  t
  l
  h
  f th
  l ti
  ’
  t i
  d th
  ti
  b
  Socio Industrial Levels:
  S
  Highest Native Life:
  S
  f
  W t
  S
  Atm. Pressure:
  Ti
  t
  J
  P i t
  T
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  S
  RADSTADT
  THE WALKING DEAD
  B L A I N E  L E E  P A R D O E
  
  T H E  W A L K I N G  D E A D
  with radiation. He was dying slowly, painfully. This was not right, not for a Ghost 
  Bear warrior. Anjo had lived his whole life to fi nd death in battle. Now he was 
  going to die in a bed like a wounded dog. 
  “I am a warrior too,” the Elemental offi  cer said. “And I 
  know what you must be thinking.”
  “Do you, quineg?”
  “I would not want to die in bed but rather 
  face death in battle.”
  “This is not fair.”
  “That is why I came,” she said. “The 
  Word of Blake forces are concentrating 
  around the spaceport, on the far 
  side of the town. We believe they 
  are going to fl ee the planet—this 
  Forty-third Shadow Division did 
  something similar on Arc-Royal 
  two years ago.” They fl ee like 
  cowards … Anjo mulled what 
  she was saying. 
  “Our primary attack force was 
  killed in the blast. We could use 
  our DropShips to shuttle troops 
  over Munich, but the terrain near 
  the spaceport does not give us 
  the room to maneuver—especially 
  with their DropShips there. If we 
  try and fl ank the city there are high 
  hills and we can anticipate that this 
  Haborym’s Legion will have the passes 
  well-defended. They know we will come at 
  them hard and are going to buy time to get in 
  their DropShips and get off -world.”
  “I understand.”
  “Do you? Going through Munich would irradiate anyone 
  from the blast residue. Our scientist caste has monitors that say 
  there are signs of a bioweapon as well. While the city itself is only lightly 
  defended, to enter it would be a death sentence. Even if someone were to survive, 
  their genes would be ruined.” The Galaxy Commander paused for a moment. Anjo 
  understood what she was saying. While samples of their genes were stored from 
  an early age, most Clan warriors felt that their most current genetic samples, 
  those closest to their most heroic acts, were the most pure.  
  He drank her words. The path through Munich was the path of the dead. Clan 
  warriors feared radiation because it would taint their genes. His genes were already 
  saturated from the neutron bomb’s pulse. “I already have a death sentence.” I have 
  nothing to lose. 
  “Aff . My thought is that you could attack through the city. The Word of Blake 
  would never suspect an attack through that venue, not so soon after they set off  
  that accursed bomb. You would take warriors with you that are facing the same 
  fate as you. You can hit them quicker than the rest of us moving on the fl anks of 
  the city and through the hills. With speed, you can catch them at their DropShips. 
  If nothing else, the attack will shatter their defense plans.” 
  Anjo tried to sit up but his muscles strained, as if he was lifting three times his 
  weight. “Forgive me, Galaxy Commander, but my body seems to be failing me.”
  Vong looked over at the doctors who brought with them several syringes. “Your 
  entire force will be suff ering from radiation sickness. Our scientists say they can 
  give you drugs to suppress the pain and give you strength enough to complete 
  your mission.” 
  The scientist looked down at him and bit his lower lip before he spoke. “Star 
  Captain, I must warn you these drugs are dangerous. They will give you energy 
  and mask the pain, but they will shorten your life.”
  Anjo allowed himself a short chuckle. “I will be dead soon anyway.”
  “Affi  rmative,” the scientist said. “With these drugs, your life will be measured not 
  in days but hours.”
  A chance to die in battle rather than in bed … that was all that mattered. “How 
  large would my force be?” 
  “We have about a Binary’s worth of troops. You are the ranking offi  cer that has 
  chemical—warning fl ashed. Looking toward Munich, where the advancing Ghost 
  Bears had been, he saw a plume rising in the sky. A tower of smoke.
  The Word of Blake had used a nuclear weapon.
  ▲▼▲
  Something was wrong. Star Captain Bekker 
  could tell that much from his own illness. 
  After the nuking of Munich he and the 
  surviving Ghost Bears had pulled back. 
  The survivors were treated like plague 
  carriers. Each was stripped naked and 
  washed down. The medical team 
  wore heavy yellow environmental 
  gear and seemed to be wary of 
  being near them. Plastic barriers 
  lined the tent walls, sealing in (or 
  out?) the air. Anjo saw a number 
  of Ghost Bear troops in the tent 
  where they were being kept. 
  They were sunburned, their skin 
  bright red. Two warriors died a 
  few minutes after arriving in the 
  hospital. A sign of things to come? 
  Others had sores on their faces 
  and torso, open pustules that were 
  oozing already. 
  His nausea had gotten the best of 
  him twice. He knew the signs of radiation 
  poisoning. It was part of his training. What 
  worried him was that it shouldn’t have been so 
  progressive so soon. BattleMechs were designed 
  to provide protection, even from nuclear attack. They 
  were not impervious but from what he saw and heard, the 
  nuclear blast in Munich had been small and it was far enough 
  away that he should have been protected. When he saw Galaxy Commander 
  Jocelyn Vong approach in a heavy yellow environmental suit he realized more 
  was wrong than he thought possible. 
  Galaxy Commander Vong was the Elemental commander of Zeta Galaxy and 
  one of the ranking offi  cers on Radstadt. She towered over his bed. Anjo stirred 
  and tried to sit up but she held her hand off  to hold him down. When she touched 
  him, she looked down at the gloved hand as if it were tainted. “Star Captain 
  Bekker, how do you feel?”
  Could he tell her the truth? He felt weak. Just from trying to sit up his muscles 
  seemed to ache. “Not well,” he said. “What happened?”
  “This Shadow Division set off  a neutron bomb. The bomb itself did some 
  damage to Munich but it sent out a high-yield pulse of radiation. Millions of 
  people in the city are dead or will be shortly.” 
  A neutron bomb. A heinous weapon. A coward’s weapon. The last time he had 
  heard of one being used against his bloodline was when the Usurper fought 
  General Kerensky. Suddenly he understood. His ‘Mech provided shielding from the 
  fallout of traditional nuclear weapons but not the intense, penetrating radiation 
  from the neutron bomb. He sank deeper into the cot. “They must be made to pay 
  for this.” The realization was upon his head—I am dying.
  “We have lost a great number of warriors already. Many are going to die over 
  the next day or so,” Galaxy Commander Vong said slowly. Her voice was muffl  ed 
  by the clear plastic faceplate of her environmental suit. “We are still picking up 
  the pieces.”
  “I am going to die, quiaff ?” He needed to hear it from someone else, someone 
  who would tell him the truth, not what he wanted to hear. Only a fellow warrior 
  could do that. 
  The Galaxy Commander glanced over her shoulder to the doctors but the looks 
  on their masked faces was grim. “Aff .”
  This was not a warrior’s death. This was not how he had always envisioned his 
  death. He had always imagined it would be a heroic death, one that would be 
  spoken of by the survivors for years to come. Not now. His genes were tainted 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  122
  “I am a warrior too,” th
  know what you must
  “Do you, quine
  “I would no
  face death 
  “This i
  “Tha
  Word
  aro
  sid
  a
  F
  o
  th
  th
  wit
  try a
  hills a
  Haborym
  well-defen
  them hard an
  their DropShips a
  “I understand.”
  “Do you? Going throug
  ptain Bekker 
  wn illness.
  and the
  back. 
  gue 
  nd
  m 
  s 
  re
  est of 
  diation
  ing. What
  have been so 
  were designed 
  nuclear attack. They
  at he saw and heard, the
  
  T H E  W A L K I N G  D E A D
  At the same time, these were kindred warriors … 
  friends and more. When warriors went to battle there 
  was always a chance that some would fall. In this case, 
  none were going to return. That cast a somber note over 
  the gathering. 
  The Elementals stood with their massive helmets off . 
  One, a particularly tall warrior, was missing patches of his 
  jet black hair, a mark of the illness they shared. Another, 
  a female, though hard to tell in her armor, had a horrible 
  oozing pock-mark on her face. The MechWarriors were 
  like him, garbed in their coolant gear. One, Drysdale, was 
  ghastly white, as if the blood had been drained from his 
  body. Another, Chelsie, looked as if she were ready to 
  drop from exhaustion. The three aerospace pilots were 
  there as well, all marked with the pallor of death.
  Chelsie had been part of his Star for two years. He 
  had never seen her so weak, and it worried him. For a 
  millisecond he wondered if his force would even make it 
  to battle. We are so close to death already…can we make 
  it, quiaff ?
  Then he saw their eyes. Drysdale, deathly white in 
  body, had a face chiseled in anger and rage. Chelsie 
  looked as if she were ready to pounce, her emerald 
  eyes fi lled with rage. He knew them both and now he 
  knew they would die with him. One Elemental fl ashed 
  him a grin through gritted teeth, as if he were going to 
  bite and claw the Word of Blake. Another MechWarrior, 
  Parker, actually winked when he made eye contact with 
  him. No, they are not going to falter. Not now. Not until the 
  bitter end. Anjo smiled. 
  “I am Star Captain Anjo Bekker,” he said with his 
  best bravado and deep command voice. “I have been 
  marked for death, as you have, by the cowards that have 
  unleashed this horror on our Clan. Like you, I have no 
  intention of dying in a hospital tent like an old member 
  of the lower castes.
  “Our mission is one that only we can perform. We are 
  going to rush through the heart of this burning city, 
  through the radiation that our bloodkin rightly fear. 
  While the rest of our warriors move along the fl anks, 
  we shall strike at this Shadow Division where they are 
  weakest. We will sweep the spaceport and destroy them 
  and their hopes of escape. 
  “The Manei Domini are abominations. They have no soul, no sense of honor. 
  We will give them none of ours. They are to be eradicated. To unleash weapons of 
  terror, to doom millions of innocents to death, deserves no grace and dignity. We 
  will rend them, tear at them like the Ghost Bear in each of us.” Anjo stopped for a 
  moment—not in dramatic pause, but to gather his thoughts and energy.
  “We will die,” he let those words sink in. “But it will be in battle. Go with me 
  and you are assured honor. Fight at my side and they will sing of our deeds and 
  sacrifi ce and bravery for years to come.  Yes, you are the walking dead. That makes 
  you the most dangerous thing the Word of Blake has ever faced. Will you fi ght 
  with me?”
  In unison the small band of warriors hoisted armored helmets, neurohelmets, 
  or their bare hands into the air. They did not cheer. What emerged was a guttural 
  roar which that shook him. “Then let us go!” He bent over and grabbed his own 
  neurohelmet and headed to his Timber Wolf. 
  From the cockpit he saw that his force was almost ready. Beyond, he saw the 
  assembled Ghost Bears. They had heard his words too, most of them. They said 
  nothing, but watched as silent guardsmen to his last demonstration of honor. 
  They were marching off  to battle as well, the Fifth Bear Regulars and the Third 
  Claw… those that had not been killed by the neutron bomb or the running fi ght 
  with the Blakists and their mercenaries. 
  Anjo had just reached down to throttle the Timber Wolf up when he saw the 
  entire force salute. No word was passed. Every gathered Ghost Bear who had stayed 
  far away from them because of their radioactive taint now off ered their respect. 
  been … tainted … by the Word of Blake. If we are going to do this, we need to 
  do it soon.” 
  Anjo licked his parched lips. “I will not fail, Galaxy Commander.” 
  ▲▼▲
  The doctor had given him a shot with a syringe the size of a long-range missile. 
  Almost immediately his strength seemed to come back and the pain in his joints 
  and muscles seemed muffl  ed. Anjo knew it was a false feeling, that his senses 
  were being tricked. The doctor had handed him another syringe of the same size. 
  “When the time comes and you begin to feel weak again, use this. But once you 
  do you only have about an hour left before your body will give out.” Anjo didn’t 
  ask what he meant by ’give out.’ With any luck he would be dead in battle. He had 
  no intention of walking away from this fi ght alive. 
  The force Galaxy Commander Vong had assembled was small. There were fi ve 
  ‘Mechs and eight Elementals. Assembled on what had been the ferrocrete of the 
  street, well away from the assembled Ghost Bears. The Galaxy Commander had 
  told him three aerospace warriors carried the same Mark of Cain that he did. They 
  had been over the city when the bomb fi red. They would be his reserves when he 
  reached the spaceport. 
  The other—non-contaminated—Ghost Bears kept their distance. They seemed 
  transfi xed by him and his command. Anjo understood their reluctance. Radiation 
  was the bane of Clansmen, it ruined DNA. While they were not radioactive, their 
  equipment was, and the Ghost Bear warriors were not about to take any chances.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  123
  ARTIST: JIM NELSON
  PUBLICATION: TECHNICAL READOUT: 3050, REVISED
  YEAR: 1996
  
  T H E  W A L K I N G  D E A D
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  124
  
  The BattleMechs of the Fifth Bear Regulars raised their arms. The Elementals held 
  their hands up as if to tip a visor on their armor. Even the technicians and the 
  doctors seemed to pause. 
  One by one the members of his team turned and saw the gesture. Anjo’s eyes 
  stung from the salt of his tears. We will not fail you. He slid the throttle of his fusion 
  reactor to full and smiled broadly as he headed towards what remained of the 
  city of Munich. 
  ▲▼▲
  Munich had been a thriving city only a day before. Now fi res burned unchecked 
  everywhere. Neutron bombs, despite myth, still were nuclear bombs and wreacked 
  a great deal of damage just from the nuclear blast. Neutron bombs released a 
  much more lethal burst of radiation at detonation. The pulse killed people almost 
  instantly. This bomb had been set off  in the suburbs right in the middle of the 
  Ghost Bears’ assault force. Now as Anjo and his “walking dead,” moved down the 
  charred highway, they came across the burned out shells of BattleMechs of their 
  Clan. Many were disfi gured so badly they were hard to make out. Some were 
  identifi able only by an arm or leg that somehow had survived the fury of the blast. 
  All were blackened grave markers. Almost immediately his NBC warning system 
  kicked in but he disabled it.
  Anjo watched his secondary display which showed him how his unit was 
  deployed. The Elementals were riding on the Warhawk of warrior Hastings, some 
  of them doubling up so that all of them could fi t, though this severely unbalanced 
  the machine. Anjo had feared they might be too weakened to fi ght if they 
  traveled on foot. The Elementals had sworn that was not going to happen, but 
  none complained at using the ‘Mech as a ride. 
  After another block they were past the point of “ground zero.” Smoky haze 
  fi lled the air and the rubble was diffi  cult to traverse. Their formation wavered 
  slightly as the ‘Mechs fanned out, each seeking a path through the debris. Anjo 
  watched carefully. They could encounter the Word of Blake and he wanted to be 
  prepared. 
  Another mile of marching brought them to the heart of Munich. The bloated 
  corpses of innocent civilians, dropped by the intense radiation pulse, lay on the 
  sidewalks. Hovercars—having collided when their drivers instantly died—were 
  jumbled into piles along the roadways. Oddly enough he saw a dog wandering 
  along on the sidewalk, the only sign of life in the debris. 
  Another two blocks and he heard from Chelsie. “Star Captain, I have movement 
  in front of me, 100 meters.” Her voice was crisp and professional. Anjo licked his 
  lips and was surprised they were dry and cracked. His body was deteriorating 
  further. 
  “Numbers, type?”
  “Unknown. It comes up as battle armor on my computer, then shifts to an 
  infantry reading.”
  “Manei Domini.”
  “Affi  rmative.”
  He punched up the city map. Pulling in the sensor readings from Chelsie’s 
  Timber Wolf, he saw the area where the Word of Blake had been spotted. Neutron 
  bombs killed quickly but left the structures intact. Had these Manei Domini been 
  in Munich when the bomb went off , quineg? Were they just like his Ghost Bears, 
  irradiated, already doomed? Or had they been sent into this dead city to stop 
  him?  It did not matter. 
  “Alright. Chelsie, move up slowly. Let them see you and keep their attention. I 
  will move up Fifth Avenue with Drysdale and Parker. The rest of you fan out to the 
  west of Chelsie and cut off  their escape. We will fl ank them. Do not engage until I 
  give the word. When we do, rip them apart.”
  A fl urry of “Aff ’s” came in the earpiece of his neurohelmet as he, Parker and 
  Drysdale moved along the side streets. At the last intersection before coming 
  into line of sight he saw movement in a building across the way. It wasn’t much, a 
  shadow moving in front of a window on the second fl oor. 
  “On my mark—engage!” he said. He stepped into line of sight with the 
  building and let loose with a single volley of long-range missiles at the fl oor 
  and approximate location where he had seen the shadow. Drysdale stepped 
  out further in his Summoner and fi red a blast of PPC fi re into the building right 
  after the missiles hit. From up the street came a burst of large lasers sweeping the 
  façade of the structure from Chelsie’s Timber Wolf.
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: BATTLECORPS
  YEAR: 2004
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  125
  
  T H E  W A L K I N G  D E A D
  For a moment no one fi red. Smoke billowed from the bank building as glass 
  shards rained down on the street below. A glow deep in the bowels of the building 
  indicated that fi res were burning. Anjo moved his Timber Wolf out a step or two, 
  waiting for any sign that there were enemy troops present. 
  Suddenly fi re belched out of the structure. Several short-range missiles twisted 
  in the air to hit both him and Drysdale. A dozen abominations emerged defi antly 
  from the structure. Five were encased in battle armor, the rest conventional 
  troops, all armed to take out ‘Mechs. Those in battle armor seemed unique to him, 
  as if they had confi gured their protection and weapons to fi t their needs. All were 
  fi ring, spraying laser fi re down the street toward Chelsie, others fi ring at him and 
  Drysdale. The Manei Domini armored infantry looked human at fi rst glimpse but 
  within a heartbeat of time, he saw them for what they were—more machine than 
  men. Their dull gray, metallic bodies had some fl esh-and-blood parts, but right 
  down to their glowing red and green eyes, they were not men. Elementals had a 
  certain degree of grace. These man/machines had none.
  Anjo brought his machine guns onto target interlock two and used his thumb to 
  fi re at the two of the abominations. The machine guns hit one of the battle armored 
  troopers so hard that he was knocked back as the bullets riddled his metallic torso. 
  The other cyborg soldier was hit but held his ground, mocking the force of the 
  attack. As soon as Anjo checked his fi re the Manei Domini returned it, hitting his 
  armored cockpit dead-on with a searing laser burst. The shot didn’t penetrate but 
  was a reminder that these troopers needed to be dealt with harshly. 
  Drysdale fi red a blast from his autocannon at a group of the conventionally 
  armed infantry who were fi ring down the street towards Chelsie’s Timber Wolf. 
  The autocannon rounds tore up the troopers and the pavement they stood on, 
  tossing them around like dolls. Some didn’t move after the blast. Others stirred in 
  the smoke of the new craters and continued to fi re. Those that lay there suddenly 
  quaked, exploding from within. Anjo had heard of the self-destruct systems of 
  these fi ghters and realized that as they died, they were exploding. 
  They want to fi ght to the death—that is a wish that I will grant them. Anjo moved 
  forward with his Timber Wolf in a full run where Drysdale had fi red. He maneuvered 
  right on top of them, stomping the feet of his BattleMech down as if he was 
  squishing bugs. The Manei Domini did not waver or run. They fi red up at him until 
  the end. Ultimately it didn’t matter. Their shots did minor damage to his legs, but in 
  a matter of minutes, he had killed them. Drysdale chased one up the street, fi nally 
  killing him with a shot from his extended range particle projection cannon. 
  The brilliant fl ash of the PPC reminded Anjo of the nuclear blast that had 
  doomed him, if only for a moment. He could not tell if Drysdale had taken down 
  the cybernetic infantryman or not. All that remained was a blackened streak on 
  the ferrocrete. For a moment he thought they were done with the fi ghting. That 
  ended when a blast of Gauss rifl e fi re burst from within the building.
  The abominations had smuggled a towed Gauss rifl e into the structure, and 
  despite the fi re that the building had taken, they were still operative. The hypersonic 
  shot had traced a path through the air and hit warrior Dimitri’s Nova. It had come 
  from two fl oors higher than where the Ghost Bears had fi red before. Drysdale 
  fi red but missed. The heavy-gauge Gauss rifl e fi red again as he moved in closer, 
  searching for the exact source of the shot. This time the rifl e hit Chelsie’s ‘Mech. 
  We could play this game all day and never reach the spaceport. Anjo opened a 
  channel to Drysdale, “Save your ammunition. Let us drop this building.” He charged 
  his Timber Wolf into the side of the bank and heard a grinding, crunching sound as 
  Drysdale did the same with his Summoner.  The building resisted but slowly, meter 
  by meter, it gave way. All around him the building groaned and ground apart as 
  he pushed his BattleMech through the structure. He saw fl ickers of fl ame pass his 
  cockpit window as he leaned to the side and put the Timber Wolf’s shoulder into 
  it. He was losing armor in the push, but that did not scare Anjo. 
  A ripple of warmth came over him, followed by a chill. Those were the fi rst real 
  sensations he had felt since the doctor had injected him. His tasted copper. He 
  glanced down and saw a new open sore on his hand, oozing white pus tinged 
  with blood. 
  The pushing and grinding took long moments but he soon broke through the 
  other side, followed shortly by Drysdale. Behind them the structure collapsed 
  inward to fi ll the gaps that their ‘Mechs had made. Dust and smoke rose from the 
  rubble. Only one far corner of the back of the bank remained intact. Where the 
  Gauss rifl e had been was a pile of ruins. 
  “Form up on me—we need to continue to the spaceport.” Their infantry may 
  have gotten word out, but even so that may draw defenders off  from their fl anks. 
  ARTIST: DES HANLEY
  PUBLICATION: INNER SPHERE
  YEAR: 2000
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  126
  
  T H E  W A L K I N G  D E A D
  with his machine guns. In moments those that were not red smears on the tarmac 
  retreated to the burning buildings rather than face him. He saw one of them melt 
  into a puddle of ooze—another of their demonic self-destruct devices.
  Drysdale’s Summoner withered under a barrage from a Bombardier who found 
  itself battered by the Summoner’s PPC and long-range missiles. Suddenly, from 
  the lower stretch of the highway rose Dimitri’s Nova and Parker’s Rifl eman IIC, 
  landing just in front of the lines of the Word of Blake on their hot jump jets. Their 
  sudden appearance stunned the Word of Blake forces. No one fi red at them save 
  a defi ant squad of Manei Domini infantry who rushed the Nova, battering its legs. 
  That surprise lasted for what seemed to be a minute, but was in reality only a 
  few seconds. Then the Shadow Division troops opened up at the newly-arrived 
  ‘Mechs. 
  The Warhawk that Hastings piloted came up the highway ramp next and 
  hit a light Word of Blake Hitman. The air was fi lled with lasers and missiles. The 
  Hitman went down—not destroyed, but down. Anjo pivoted his torso again and 
  locked onto the Blake Tempest nearest Hastings. He switched all of his weapons 
  to the same target interlock circuit and the moment he heard the tone the Star 
  Captain fi red. 
  His heat rose sharply as the missiles and large lasers found their mark, tearing 
  away at the armor on its left side. The arm-mounted large pulse laser looked badly 
  pockmarked from his missiles and the ‘Mech bore a nasty scar from one of his 
  laser hits. 
  The heat in his cockpit suddenly felt worse than he had ever experienced 
  before. Dizziness blanketed his head. Anjo understood immediately what was 
  happening. The radiation and the medication were extracting their high toll from 
  his body. He reached forward and groped for the syringe. 
  He held it in his right hand and it felt as if it were ten kilos heavy. His vision 
  blurred as he removed the safety cap from the massive needle. His ‘Mech rocked 
  from an attack. He didn’t see who and for a moment he didn’t care. Anjo took the 
  syringe and jabbed it hard into the bare skin of his thigh just below the coolant 
  jacket. He drove the plunger down.
  The sickness, the wave of heat, melted away. Control over his body and mind 
  returned but he knew that control was limited, tempered by time and the battle 
  around him. Angrily he tossed the empty medical device into the back of the 
  cockpit.
  Another rocking hit forced his senses clear and he focused on the enemy. The 
  Bombardier was in the distance, sitting against a building, smoke billowing from 
  its ruined missile racks. The Tempest moved forward, raking him with its medium 
  lasers. He side-stepped to keep some distance and brought his lasers to bear. 
  The large lasers hit near the cockpit of the Blakist ‘Mech while the medium pulse 
  laser stitched a series of blackened holes up the center torso. The Tempest backed 
  off , probably to bring its Gauss rifl e to bear. Anjo smiled. Good, back up, let me 
  bring my missiles into play. He brought them to a single trigger on his joystick and 
  continued to side-step and put distance in. 
  The weapons-lock tone was warm in his ears. The air fi lled with missiles aimed at 
  the Tempest. Most found their mark and those that didn’t blasted the tarmac and 
  roadway. One Word infantryman was thrown in the air by an errant missile, going 
  up as a monster and coming down in parts spread out on the ground. Where are 
  your precious self-destruct mechanisms now? The Tempest tried to fi re its Gauss rifl e 
  only to have the slug streak past Anjo’s cockpit and out into Munich city. 
  A white-gray Grim Reaper shuffl  ed forward towards Parker’s Rifl eman IIC. 
  Hastings pivoted and unleashed a horrible barrage of pulse laser fi re at perfect 
  range. None of the lasers missed—they couldn’t. The Grim Reaper sagged under 
  the barrage, pieces of blasted and burned armor fl ying in the air and dancing 
  across the roadway.
  The movement of the Grim Reaper opened a hole in the defensive lines—a 
  gap in the great arc. Into that hole Hastings rushed forward with his living cargo 
  of Elemental warriors. Several of the Elementals did not miss the opportunity to 
  spray out short-range missiles into the side of the Reaper as they passed. 
  Anjo saw the DropShips in the distance and saw a fl urry of activity. The timing 
  was perfect. He keyed in the coded signal for his aerospace fi ghter support. They 
  were back somewhere over Munich, waiting for their chance for glory. Now it 
  would come. They would go for the DropShips as Hastings was doing. Hopefully 
  the rest of them would as well. 
  A blast tore into his Timber Wolf’s left side and he had to fi ght to keep the ‘Mech 
  upright. He turned and saw the mangled Tempest still in the fi ght. He waited until 
  It didn’t matter to him. Either way, he was taking the walking dead up to that 
  tarmac. 
  ▲▼▲
  The Munich spaceport was on a plateau to the east of the city, rising above the 
  smoke-shrouded city. To the east were the outlines of low hills, barely visible over 
  the spaceport structures and warehouses. To the north and south the hills were 
  much more steep and dominating. It was there that the rest of the Ghost Bears 
  would come. From the long sloping highway that led up to the spaceport, Star 
  Captain Bekker could understand why he was going to lead the attack from the 
  ruins. Striking through the remains of the city had put them at an objective that 
  the rest of his Clan was going to have to slug their way to reach. 
  The fi res from the city were spreading. Some had already reached the buildings 
  on the edge of the spaceport. A haze of smoke made the spaceport appear ghost-
  like on the plateau. 
  His sensors showed his unit was far from alone. At the spaceport itself there 
  were DropShips, several Leopard-class ships as well as three Union-class vessels. 
  There were also Word of Blake BattleMechs there. Some were near the DropShips 
  but it seemed as if they were forming a battle line near where the highway snaked 
  around the spaceport perimeter.
  A ripple of sweat ran down the inside of his neurohelmet and pooled near 
  his cheek. He was hot when he shouldn’t be. It was a sign, as clear as any on his 
  tactical display. He eyed the compartment where he had stored the last syringe. 
  Not yet, but soon…
  The Manei Domini would array themselves to protect the DropShips. That’s 
  what he would do if he were them. They had not planned on the Ghost Bears 
  coming through Munich. This would force them to pull resources from their 
  fl ank defenses—which would only help Galaxy Commander Vong’s eff orts. The 
  Manei Domini had a height advantage but were not poised forward enough to 
  hit him. That was a mistake, an indication that he had indeed caught them off  
  guard or they had a dangerous fi eld of fi re established…or was it possible they 
  had something else in mind, something he hadn’t considered? 
  Anjo Bekker’s assult plan was simple: punch through those defenses and get to 
  the DropShips. Once there, he would cut loose Hastings with his Elemental riders. 
  That was the key, getting the Elementals through the defensive line. They would 
  swarm some of the DropShips and disable or destroy them. 
  “The Word of Blake is waiting for us to crest this plateau,” he said, trudging his 
  Timber Wolf up the incline out of the city. “They will try and slow us down. These 
  Shadow Division troops deserve no honor and none will be given them. We need 
  to hit their DropShips, disrupt their defenses. Parker and Dimitri, you know what 
  to do, quiaff ?”
  “Aff ,” they replied in unison.
  “Good then. We do not slow down. We charge right into their lines. We make 
  it impossible for them to concentrate their fi re.” He reached down to the throttle 
  controls and slid them down all the way, bringing the fusion reactor to its peak. It 
  is time… He broke his Timber Wolf into a trotting run. 
  As he came into line of sight of the defenders he was less surprised and more 
  disappointed than he expected. Haborym’s Legion was arrayed in a large arc on 
  the edge of the tarmac, with the center of the arc being where the highway came 
  up from the city. As soon as Anjo came into sight fi re erupted from all angles of 
  the arc at him. He was not alone. Chelsie appeared as well with her Timber Wolf 
  only a step behind and to the side. 
  The Forty-third Shadow Division troops there were a mixed lot. There were 
  seven BattleMechs, some designs he had never seen before. Infantry near the 
  burning buildings fi red. The Manei Domini conventional infantry troopers on the 
  ground appeared very diff erent and easy to spot. All of them fi red. His Timber Wolf 
  rocked under the concussions but he held his ground. He locked onto the nearest 
  BattleMech, a Black Knight. Two milliseconds after he heard the lock-tone, he let 
  go with his long-range missiles. 
  Thirty-eight of forty missiles hit the Black Knight. The Star League-era design 
  staggered backward. Chelsie engaged one of the newer ‘Mechs, something similar 
  to a Templar. Her large lasers hit it on its right side, mangling the armor there. The 
  mysterious new ‘Mech drifted back, using one of the warehouses for cover.
  The handful of standard infantry near Anjo opened up with small arms and a few 
  shoulder-launched short-range missiles. He twisted his torso and sprayed them 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  127
  
  T H E  W A L K I N G  D E A D
  He coughed and felt a salty taste in his mouth that he had never tasted 
  before. It was not phlegm—it was thicker, bloodier. It is my lungs coming apart. 
  Suddenly he felt a pain in his chest, as if someone were crushing his ribs. It was 
  like getting in a bear-hug with an angry Elemental. The dizziness was creeping 
  back and he found he no longer had the strength of will to suppress it. Death 
  was closing in. 
  The fi ghting spurred him into action. He tried to form words, to order his Ghost 
  Bears into the DropShips. What came out was a weak gurgle. Once again the heat 
  of fever swept him and he stabbed at the communications board to send a text 
  message. “Ghost Bears converge and attack the DropShips.” His voice may have 
  been gone but as he hit ‘transmit’ he knew that his orders were conveyed.
  He charged forward, past the fallen Grim Reaper that was attempting to right 
  itself, past the Word of Blake infantry that were fi ring to stop them. Chelsie rushed 
  in with him, the only other functional ‘Mech on the fi eld. They charged forward 
  toward Hastings’ dying BattleMech, fi ring at the massive DropShips. 
  Anjo Bekker heard a rumble from above and looked at his sensors. The 
  aerospace fi ghters were coming in, blazing away at the DropShips. Two of them 
  broke off  for another run but another roared over his head like a thunderclap and 
  plowed straight into the side of a Union-class DropShip. Debris rained down as 
  Dimitri’s ‘Mech crumbled from the fi re of two turrets. 
  Anjo and Chelsie charged forward as the turrets of the surviving ships turned 
  on them. Anjo felt warm, oh so warm, for just a second. Then everything went 
  white. His last thought was of squeezing all of his triggers at once. 
  ▲▼▲
  An Hour Later…
  Galaxy Commander Jocelyn Vong stood on the tarmac of the Munich spaceport 
  and surveyed the damage there. Her troops had arrived thirty minutes after Star 
  Captain Anjo Bekker’s force had blasted their way through to the DropShips. 
  Evidence of the savagery of the fi ghting was everywhere. As night fell on Munich 
  and the distant glow of the fi res in the city shimmered, the Galaxy Commander 
  saw what the Ghost Bears had done. 
  Two Leopard-class DropShips were destroyed. The bodies of the Manei Domini 
  infantry and the Ghost Bear Elementals were tangled together in and outside of 
  those ships. The Manei Domini had rushed the Elementals and self-destructed 
  to take them out. A Union-class ship was still ablaze in the distance, the victim 
  of a ramming attack, while another had been burst open by internal explosions 
  caused by a ground assault. Anjo Bekker’s own Timber Wolf and that of warrior 
  Chelsie were found in the shadows of the ship, near the charred remains of a 
  Warhawk. Only a single Union DropShip had managed to get loaded and escape.
  The smoky air stank of burned electrical wiring, burning garbage, and the odd 
  smell of meat cooking—like bacon. I did not think there was enough fl esh on the 
  Manei Domini to merit the smell. She had smelled burned people before in battle, 
  but here it was worse. It may be my own people I smell.  That thought sobered her 
  even more.  
  She stood on the littered tarmac and looked at where Anjo Bekker and his force 
  had fallen. The Ghost Bears had taken to calling them “The Walking Dead,” and it 
  was a name she thought would stick. They had fought with honor and, in the end, 
  given the Ghost Bears a victory. 
  As she stared at his crumbled Timber Wolf, Galaxy Commander Vong made a 
  solemn promise. “You will be remembered Anjo Bekker, you and your Walking 
  Dead. The Remembrance will add lines of your sacrifi ce and your honor. The names 
  of those that died with you will serve as an inspiration for us all. The Walking Dead 
  will be a new standing unit in the Ghost Bears, one whose history you began to 
  write here.”
  Galaxy Commander Vong closed her eyes. In the darkness of her own thought 
  she found herself hoping she would be able to live up to the measure of honor 
  that Anjo Bekker had demonstrated.
  For a Ghost Bear warrior, it was the closest thing to a prayer.
  he was sure the reload cycle on his long-range missiles was done and fi red. This 
  time more missiles missed, but those that found their marks had less armor to 
  slow them down. The Tempest disappeared into a gray smoky haze.
  It emerged, stepping forward slowly, like a drunken man. The left side of the 
  BattleMech was exposed and open. Myomer strands hung on the ground, some 
  sparking slightly as the ‘Mech moved. It was as if the enemy ‘Mech was death itself 
  lumbering on the battlefi eld. 
  It fi red its medium lasers and two of them found their mark on his Timber Wolf’s 
  legs. He shrugged off  those hits and brought his own large lasers back into play. 
  He aimed carefully, zooming his view in on the holes ripped in the armor on the 
  left side. He fi red both weapons at the same time. One hit in the center torso, 
  burrowing a deep black hole. The other shot hit where there was no armor on 
  the Tempest. The Blakist BattleMech quaked and rocked violently in place, hard 
  enough that one armored plate fl ew off  its back. Ammunition was cooking off  
  somewhere deep in the guts of this ‘Mech. It was dying or dead already. Anjo 
  turned his BattleMech to deal with the Grim Reaper. 
  The battle was horribly imbalanced. The Grim Reaper and three squads of 
  Manei Domini were concentrating on Dimitri’s Nova. The Manei Domini infantry 
  were like an angry swarm of bugs, ripping the armor apart on the Nova as Dimitri 
  rocked the ‘Mech and kept fi ring wildly at the Grim Reaper. The Reaper, in turn, was 
  pumping short-range missiles and its large laser into the squat Nova, carefully 
  avoiding his own battle armored troops. Anjo knew Dimitri’s time was limited. He 
  activated a separate targeting reticule and brought his long-range missiles up for 
  both targeting interlock circuits. 
  The fi rst volley aimed at the rear of the Grim Reaper. The wave of missiles 
  snaked in and hit the ‘Mech in the back and nearly knocked it over. The Reaper 
  turned slowly, methodically—angrily—to face him. The second wave of missiles 
  fl ew past it by a space of fi ve meters and rained down on Dimitri’s Nova. The 
  explosions hit the Nova but they did infi nitely more damage to the Manei Domini 
  infantry swarming on his ‘Mech. Metallic legs and arms fl ew in every direction. 
  He’d bought Dimitri at least another few moments of life, another few shots. 
  Drysdale’s Summoner was in a tangle with two BattleMechs that Anjo’s battle 
  computer could not identify. He was fl ailing wildly at them, punching them with 
  the mangled stumps of his Summoner’s arms. His death was imminent, but he was 
  devastating two of the enemies. Just as Anjo thought he would fall, Drysdale did 
  something he did not expect.
  He detonated his own fusion reactor.
  There was no doubt in Anjo’s mind that it was anything but a deliberate act, 
  because fusion engines did not—could not—explode on their own. The blast 
  ripped apart the two Manei Domini BattleMechs. Parts of them landed near his 
  own ’Mech’s feet. He was proud of Drysdale, more proud than he had been of any 
  other warriors he had led in battle. He had found honor for himself and for them 
  all. I only hope my own death is as spectacular. 
  Anjo did not waste time. He broke his Timber Wolf into a full run at the Grim 
  Reaper. The Blakist BattleMech fi red at him and he saw warning lights from the hits. 
  He plowed straight into it, sending the Reaper onto its damaged back, grinding 
  off  more armor as it skidded a few meters on the tarmac. The hit left nasty holes 
  on the left side of his ‘Mech. His missile rack read loaded but damaged. It was the 
  last volley he had anyway. Using the working rack on the right side he fi red a wave 
  of missiles at the Black Knight. Half of the missiles missed their mark. The others 
  peppered the armor of the old ‘Mech. 
  Beyond the Black Knight Anjo saw the fallen form of Parker’s Rifl eman IIC. It 
  was splayed out like a freshly killed deer, arms and legs spread out where it had 
  fallen. Just beyond it lurked the mysterious new ‘Mech that the Shadow Division 
  was fi elding, badly mangled but still in the fi ght. He glanced over at Hastings’ 
  Warhawk as it poured fi re into one of the Union-class DropShips. The ships’ turrets 
  were all locked onto it and brilliant crimson beams of laser energy surrounded the 
  Warhawk. From what Anjo could see Hastings was nearing his end but was badly 
  damaging one of the open bays of the DropShip. 
  Elementals were crawling on the Leopard-class ships. Some had gotten inside 
  the closest ship and were fi ring wildly and indiscriminately into its guts. Smoke 
  billowed from the bays of the other Leopard, the telltale mark of the damage his 
  unit was infl icting. 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  128
  
  T H E  W A L K I N G  D E A D
  ARTIST: GERHARD MOZSI
  PUBLICATION: JIHAD HOT SPOTS 3070
  YEAR: 2005
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  129
  
   
  ARTIST: BRYAN BARNARD
  PUBLICATION: HOT SPOTS
  YEAR: 1993
  YEAR: 1993
  YEAR: 1993
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  130
  
   
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: CLASSIC BATTLETECH: THE GAME OF ARMORED COMBAT
  YEAR: 2002
  YEAR: 2002
  YEAR: 2002
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  131
  
  H O R N E T ' S  N E S T
  ARTIST: JIM HOLLOWAY
  PUBLICATION: CITYTECH
  YEAR: 1986
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  132
  
  H O R N E T ' S  N E S T
  VILLMAR RIVER PLAINS
  DEMETER, FEDERATED SUNS
  23 APRIL 3022
  Twin fl ashes of blue-tinged artifi cial lightning slashed through the air with a 
  telltale sizzling hiss as they slammed into the right side of the Valkyrie. Already 
  listing and fi ghting to stay on its feet, the BattleMech’s patchwork armor 
  vaporized, allowing the particle beams to lash at the myomer bundles and 
  internal components. With smoke and liquid fl ames gushing from the wound, it 
  was forced into a sudden spin and then collapsed in a heap. The machine lost its 
  left leg during the violent fall, and as Saul edged his Archer forward he dropped 
  his crosshairs onto the hapless ‘Mech and stabbed his trigger. He smiled with 
  satisfaction as he felt the slight lurch of his ‘Mech when both long-range missile 
  racks let loose. The swarm of warheads left a lethal trail of rippling explosions 
  across what little was left of the Valkyrie.
  “He’s not getting up from that, Dee,” Saul called out over their combat channel, 
  “Does anybody else got a moving target?” 
  To his right, in the distance, he saw a Firestarter racing away at top speed. To 
  his left, he saw the infamous low-slung profi le of Lieutenant Greshner’s Marauder. 
  The ’Mech’s legendary twin derringer arms swung towards Saul’s Archer and a 
  moment later the man’s easygoing drawl answered, “Well I did see a Valkyrie a 
  second ago Captain, but I don’t think he’s gonna be waltzing anytime soon.”
  Cracking a smile inside the stifl ing heat of his cockpit, Saul hit the transmit 
  button. “Bombers, are we clear? Does anybody have a moving target that isn’t in 
  full retreat?”
  “No sir,” a new voice chimed in, the voice of MechWarrior Reggie Horn in the 
  lance’s Cyclops, “But I do have a Federated Militia major itching to beg you for 
  honors of war.”
  Satisfi ed that the battle was over, Saul nodded and surveyed the valley one last 
  time. Seven of the defending BattleMechs lay in ruin or in piles of rubble across 
  the valley fl oor. He saw the headless corpse of a Centurion and the shrapnel that 
  had once been an Enforcer. All four of the Bombers’ ‘Mechs had checked in, and 
  the enemy was in retreat. That was the expectation of the Bombers for every 
  battle, and on this day the Demeter Militia had learned that the hard way.
  “Yeah,” Saul acknowledged. “Put him through. It’s time to pack it in, pack it up, 
  get our cash and drink until we’re poor again. And Reggie, recall Scout and Strike 
  lances back to the Star so we can get off  this rock.”
  Saul turned his massive seventy-ton ‘Mech almost 180 degrees to get it pointed 
  to the path that would take it back to their DropShip, the Wayward Star. As the 
  voice of the surviving CO of the Demeter Militia crackled in his ear Saul began to 
  assess the damage his ‘Mech had sustained during the fi ght. 
  “No worries, Charlotte,” he told it. “It’s nothing but a scratch and George can fi x that 
  in no time. We’ll have you good as new before we make landfall back in Marik space.”
  ▲▼▲
  ESTATE OF COUNT EZRA DURRANT
  ORIENTE, FREE WORLDS LEAGUE
  21 JULY 3022
  “Obviously,” the Count’s assistant smiled thinly, “His Highness is pleased with your 
  work. He wished me to express his gratitude at the totality and professionalism 
  with which you and your Northstar Irregulars achieved victory.”
  “Hell, son,” ‘Dry Roasted’ Dave Greshner snorted, tossing back his scotch in one 
  smooth motion and slapping the glass back down on the impossibly-expensive 
  oak table, “That’s what the Bombay Bombers do. We come, we see, we sure as hell 
  conquer. Who’d he think he’d hired? The Waco Rangers?”
  As Saul watched the assistant bristle, he cut a warning glance at his executive 
  offi  cer and spoke up, “My compatriot may be crude, sir, but the praise of the count 
  is most appreciated and most welcome. We just want to get what we’re owed and 
  be on our way.”
  The man set his glass down precisely, and leaned forward, placing his hands on 
  his knees, creating a false sense of intimate conversation. His forced, thin smile 
  reeked of politician, but Saul took it in stride. The man obviously had more to say 
  before any payment would be forthcoming.
  “You possess an entire assault lance, Captain, in good working order. You could 
  benefi t greatly from the patronage of a member of Free Worlds nobility. Have you 
  thought of that?”
  “Do you know what that lance gets us most of all, Mister Walters?”
  “I wouldn’t presume to know about military matters, Captain.”
  “Freedom,” Saul said. “We get to pick our jobs, pick our situations, and control 
  our own fate. Now, your boss pays well, and as long as he has good work for us to 
  do, we’re happy to do it. Just the same, we like things to stay as they are. Do thank 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  133
  BITHINIA
  World Name:
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  Position in System:
  Time to Jump Point:
  Number of Satellites:
  Surface Gravity:
  Atm. Pressure:
  Equatorial Temperature:
  Surface Water Coverage:
  Recharging Station:
  HPG Class Type:
  Highest Native Life:
  Population Size (3022):
  Socio-Industrial Levels:
  Bithinia was once primarily a major tourist planet in the 
  Confederation that catered to the few ultra-wealthy Capellans 
  (and foreigners) who could travel to other star systems for their 
  entertainment. The planet was well serviced by a network of 
  high-speed maglev trains and aircraft to whisk the wealthy (but 
  not local commoners, of course) from resort to resort in the 
  wide range of environments offered by an entire planet. Bithinia 
  always had somewhere sunny and tropical, while elsewhere 
  some mountain was covered in the perfect skiing powder.
  Though the extremely wealthy could reserve parts of Bithinia 
  for their private playgrounds, they were few and far between, and 
  the JumpShips to bring them to Bithinia were almost as rare. The 
  3.2 billion-plus people on the planet not involved in catering to the 
  afﬂ uent had to ﬁ nd other jobs, and iron-rich Bithinia gave them 
  steel mills. Much of this output stayed on Bithinia, of course, but 
  the world also developed a specialty steel sector that supported 
  the Confederation’s aerospace and military industries. 
  e
  b
  J
  h
  o
  e
  y
  o
  s
  r
  e
  t
  o
  u
   
  h
  a
  a
  .
  a
  m
  e
  t
  r
  l
  s
  n
  S
  p
  a
  g
  m
  a
   
  d
  o
  N
  s
  i
  W
  a
  e
  G
  J
  e
  a
  H
  u
  o
  s 
  s
  te
  i
  s
  a
  t
  r
  s
  r
  i
  v
  y
  S
  e
  e
  r
  v
  a
  p
  y
  e
  :
  N
  o
  d
  p
  b
  y
  e
  a
  w
  r
  e
  h
  t
  L
  3
  i
  o
  o
  e
  i
  m
  a
  A
  s
  n
  u
  y
  o
  r
  m
  n
  a
  o
  t
  p
  s
  2
  a
  u
  :
  T
  p
  o
  e
  m
  ,
  a
  d
  u
  s
  o
  n
  t
   
  a
  e
  s
  a
  n
  B
  y
  t
  e
  r
  t
  d
  r
  o
  n
  r
  l
  p
  b
  o
  f
  o
  f
  r
  v
  e
  w
  s
  c
  p
  n
  w
  v
   
  u
  n
  B
  d
  l
  d
  e
  i
  i
  t
  k
  d
  r
  w
  r
  o
  n
  t
  r
  p
  i
  l
  e
  t
  t
  p
  u
  a
  n
  r
  w
  f
  l
  t
  a
  e
  C
  e
  ,
  h
  o
  h
  h
  h
  r
  t
  l
  Confederation that catered to the few ultra wealthy Capellans 
  C
  entertainment
  The planet was well serviced by a network of
  g
  p
  g
  y
  Though the extremely wealthy could reserve parts of Bithinia
  T
  wide range of environments offered by an entire planet Bithinia
  w
  h
  T
  i
  h
  i
  B
  h
  b
  ih
  S
  J
  h
  3.2 billion plus people on the planet not involved in catering to the
  l
  ill
  M
  h
  f thi
  t
  t
  t
  d
  Bithi i
  f
  b t
  Socio Industrial Levels:
  S
  Highest Native Life:
  S
  f
  W t
  C
  S
  Atm. Pressure:
  Ti
  t
  J
  P i t
  T
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  S
  BITHINIA
  B
  HORNET’S NEST
  C R A I G  E R N E
  
  H O R N E T ' S  N E S T
  “I leave the reserves and the 
  city proper to you, Major Xao Zhiyi. 
  I trust this is an order you can fulfi ll?” The 
  colonel arched an eyebrow, his tone mocking 
  and dismissive.
  “With pride and honor, Colonel.” Zhiyi bowed, crisply 
  and formally. “I wish you and the other lions good hunting. 
  Do you have any standing orders?”
  The colonel paused. He studied the old offi  cer carefully. “Yes, 
  defend the city at all costs,” he said. “Although I believe you have little 
  to fear. We will cut these raiders off  long before they reach the city itself. If 
  something unexpected happens, notify me immediately.”
  With a shake of his head, he grabbed his gloves and motioned for his aide to 
  follow him. The deck offi  cer announced loudly, “Attention all stations! The colonel 
  has passed control to Reserve Commander Xao Zhiyi!” Below him, every man and 
  woman snapped to attention and held their line as the colonel exited the room. 
  Only after he left did the same men and women turn to look up at the dais. Xao Zhiyi 
  scratched his chin a moment 
  and then spoke.
  “Activate 
  all 
  the 
  reserves. Have all company 
  commanders report to their 
  bases and activate all combat 
  units. A civil evacuation order 
  should go out at once and I need 
  every map possible of the city ready 
  to be loaded onto the main screens.”
  There was a noticeable pause as 
  young soldiers looked to one another for 
  confi rmation of the barrage of orders. Their 
  training soon won out and they scrambled to 
  do as they were told. Satisfi ed, Zhiyi looked down 
  at the deck offi  cer and said in a more level voice, 
  “Commander Shu, assemble any militia or reserve 
  BattleMechs at the Glorious Defenders’ Barracks and 
  tell them to await further orders. Also, contact any reserve 
  units we have in Harwang or Zico and tell them to empty 
  their arsenals of any BattleMech repair parts. They may leave 
  the small arms and the ammunition.”
  The young offi  cer knit his brows in confusion, but did not risk 
  outright disobedience. He calmly walked up to the dais and spoke 
  quietly. “At once Major, but may I know why we are calling upon 
  our entire reserve? If a second attack comes, we will have nothing to 
  counterattack with.”
  Zhiyi glared into the young offi  cer’s eyes until he could see the man 
  trembling where he stood. In his seventies Xao Zhiyi’s stare carried the full 
  weight of his wisdom and conviction. “The attack is underway, Commander. 
  Our commander has opened the door of the city to our attackers, and soon, very 
  soon now, they will enter it. I am not inclined to give it away. Are you?”
  The shaken young offi  cer could only shake his head.
  “Good, then do as I say. We are about to be very, very busy.”
  ▲▼▲
  JOUSHE PLAINS, NEAR THE CITY OF BITHINIA
  BITHINIA, CAPELLAN CONFEDERATION
  17 SEPTEMBER 3022
  Switching through various sensor settings, Saul kept his Archer moving at the 
  best possible speed. The city loomed on the horizon now, and if his plan was 
  working the other three Bombay Bombers would be approaching the city from 
  the other three cardinal points. The lack of enemy activity was a blessing, but it 
  gnawed at the back of his consciousness. No reserve or militia units had rushed 
  out to save the city. No air strikes or artillery had tried to impede their progress. 
  Perhaps his gambit had worked completely. Perhaps the entire Capellan garrison 
  was chasing his other two lances. That seemed unlikely.
  him for the kind off er, though.” He sat back. “Now, not to beat a dead horse, but 
  there is the matter of fi nal payment?”
  Walters tapped his fi ngertips together and leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. 
  “I see. The payment is here.” He slid an envelope from his jacket to the table and 
  then reclined again. “The Count would like to hire you for another job. Transport 
  provided. Triple the pay of your last job, and the support of other mercenaries 
  who will screen regional defenses in order to open a path for you to conduct a 
  very important raid.”
  “Sounds like Christmas,” Dave broke in. “What’s the catch?”
  “It’s a ballistics plant,” Walters answered. “Inside a city, and it will mean 
  that the Capellan Confederation will likely never want to hire you 
  again.”
  Reaching out to grab the check, Saul cracked an amused smile. 
  He tucked the money away inside his vest, near where he kept 
  his hidden laser pistol. “So, like Lieutenant Greshner asked, 
  what’s the catch?”
  The comment cracked the politician’s stern façade and 
  a smile appeared at once. 
  “Very good,” he nodded, 
  “Let us have another round 
  and discuss the terms of 
  your continuing service to the 
  Count.”
  ▲▼▲
  CIVIL DEFENSE CENTER
  BITHINIA, CAPELLAN 
  CONFEDERATION
  17 SEPTEMBER 3022
  In his youth, the steps had been 
  so much easier to climb.
  The call to battle had set his heart afi re and the 
  boundless energy inside him made his steps eff ortless. 
  How many times had he raced to his BattleMech from 
  the comforts of a sound sleep in the barracks? How 
  many times had he heard an alarm like the one shrieking 
  through the CDC base even now? As he passed through the 
  doors the guards snapped to crisp attention. He saw his face 
  refl ected in the smoky glass door and marveled at how old he 
  had gotten in so short a time.
  The Command Center personnel were moving at breakneck pace 
  but with a controlled military precision. It was activity with purpose. 
  No one was panicked, or rushed, and the hushed conversations around 
  the room allowed only a soft din of noise to fi ll the air. The enormous 
  trio of display screens fl ashed tracking information and various strategic 
  maps. Major Xao Zhiyi strode up the ramp to the dais where the planetary 
  garrison’s commanding offi  cer was watching the proceedings. The colonel 
  was much younger, perhaps not even forty. His hair was shaved away but his 
  facial features befi t his occupation. He was hawkish, sharp and ready to spring 
  into motion. He barely acknowledged Zhiyi’s arrival. No less was expected. The 
  colonel was the young lion, seeking glory and the thrill of the hunt. He had no 
  time to amuse an old lion who had lost his teeth. Still, Xao snapped to attention 
  and awaited his orders dutifully.
  Motioning to the screen, the man spoke. “We have confi rmed at least one 
  company of BattleMechs making planetfall. They used a pirate point, allowing 
  them to drop with almost no warning. They’re moving towards the militia arsenals 
  at Harwang and Zico. Second Battalion has moved to secure the spaceport and 
  the Celestial Residence. I am going to take First Battalion into the landing zone 
  and cut them off . Alas, Warrior House Ma-Tsu Kai is off  world, or this threat would 
  be trivial to crush.” 
  Zhiyi nodded. Speaking would do little good now. The young lion was set on his 
  course. The experience gained in Zhiyi’s decades of command and BattleMechs 
  would fall on deaf ears. Despite the obvious pitfalls of the colonel’s plan, he 
  remained quiet.
  k
  w
  m
  u
  o 
  ck
  o
  e i
  d
  t
  f
  t
  Hi h i
  h
  The shaken young offi  cer could only shake his hea
  H O R N E T
  S  N E
  leav
  oper
  an o
  n eye
  Colo
  he ot
  ”
  e o
  ugh
  e th
  edia
  and 
  tion
  ” Be
  he 
  loo
  scra
  an
  res
  om
  es
  . A
  go
  p 
  d 
  s 
  l
  th
  o
  S
  d 
  m
  u
  e
  Z
  r
  o
  n
  g
  pa
  ti
  .” 
  o
  f y
  ef
  Da
  alt
  der
  e c
  ay i
  o, 
  he 
  e. 
  d, 
  nd 
  s o
  to t
  had 
  d set 
   him 
  e rac
  nd s
  rd an
  even n
  ped to
  glass 
  a time
  er pers
  military
  or rush
  y a sof
  fl ashe
  strode
  g offi  c
  ed away but his
  “I 
  city pro
  I trust this is 
  colonel arched an
  and dismissive.
  “With pride and honor, C
  and formally. “I wish you and th
  Do you have any standing orders?”
  The colonel paused. He studied th
  defend the city at all costs,” he said. “Althou
  to fear. We will cut these raiders off  long befor
  something unexpected happens, notify me imme
  With a shake of his head, he grabbed his gloves a
  follow him. The deck offi  cer announced loudly, “Atten
  has passed control to Reserve Commander Xao Zhiyi!
  woman snapped to attention and held their line as t
  Only after he left did the same men and women turn to 
  s
  co
  bas
  units.
  should 
  every ma
  to be loaded
  There was
  young soldiers 
  confi rmation of t
  training soon won 
  do as they were told. 
  at the deck offi  cer and
  “Commander Shu, assem
  BattleMechs at the Glorio
  tell them to await further orde
  units we have in Harwang or Z
  their arsenals of any BattleMech 
  the small arms and the ammunitio
  The young offi  cer knit his brows in
  outright disobedience. He calmly walk
  quietly. “At once Major, but may I know
  our entire reserve? If a second attack com
  counterattack with.”
  Zhiyi glared into the young offi  cer’s eyes 
  trembling where he stood. In his seventies Xao
  weight of his wisdom and conviction. “The attac
  Our commander has opened the door of the city to 
  soon now, they will enter it. I am not inclined to give
  Th
  h k
  ffi
  ld
  l
  h k hi h
  gh.” He sat back. “Now, not to beat a dead horse, but 
  ayment?”
  ps together and leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. 
  He slid an envelope from his jacket to the table and 
  unt would like to hire you for another job. Transport 
  your last job, and the support of other mercenaries 
  fenses in order to open a path for you to conduct a 
  ave broke in. “What’s the catch?”
  ters answered. “Inside a city, and it will mean 
  ration will likely never want to hire you 
  check, Saul cracked an amused smile. 
  inside his vest, near where he kept 
  like Lieutenant Greshner asked, 
  politician’s stern façade and 
  of 
  the 
  been 
  his heart afi re and the 
  made his steps eff ortless. 
  ed to his BattleMech from 
  leep in the barracks? How 
  n alarm like the one shrieking 
  now? As he passed through the 
  o crisp attention. He saw his face 
  door and marveled at how old he 
  e.
  sonnel were moving at breakneck pace 
  y precision. It was activity with purpose. 
  hed, and the hushed conversations around 
  ft din of noise to fi ll the air. The enormous 
  ed tracking information and various strategic 
  e up the ramp to the dais where the planetary 
  cer was watching the proceedings. The colonel 
  h i
  h
  d
  b t hi
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  134
  
  H O R N E T ' S  N E S T
  focused to a crisp, deadly visage: the unmistakable shape of a Zeus striding into 
  the outskirts of the city’s downtown district. He ducked quickly back down behind 
  the barricade and keyed his radio. “Target has passed Lion’s Road at Tenth!”
  The screech of metal on pavement fi lled his ears. He felt the compulsion to 
  look and, despite the fear balling in the pit of his stomach, found himself peeking 
  one eye over the concrete barricade. He saw one of the CDF UrbanMechs 
  waddling around the corner of a large building. Its compact autocannon ripped 
  out a stream of shells that slammed into the enemy ‘Mech’s left side. From hip to 
  shoulder, the shells traced pockmarks in the mostly-white armor and its red and 
  black trim. Immediately the Zeus fi red back, raising its right arm to loose a cloud of 
  long-range missiles. The UrbanMech was far too slow to move out of the way and 
  was riddled with explosions. Struggling to stay standing, the small, squat ‘Mech 
  ducked back out of sight.
  ▲▼▲
  “Contact left!” Saul heard the fourth member of the lance shout out. From the 
  cockpit of his Zeus MechWarrior Izzy McClain called “I got an Urbie playing tag 
  with me but he got the worst of it, moving to fi nish him off , boss.”
  “You need any help, Izzy?” Dave off ered right away.
  “Nah, he’s too slow to go far.”
  ▲▼▲
  In the command center the fi ght was being played in realtime with a bird’s eye 
  view provided by spotter planes circling high overhead. Zhiyi noted the path of 
  the Zeus as it charged through the cityscape like a bull in a china shop. The CDF 
  ‘Mech was trying to retreat, even using its small jump jets to hop closer to cover, 
  but the Zeus was clearly going to get another salvo off  before the UrbanMech
  could get away.
  “Commander, order Third Platoon to fi re and fall back, and send the armored 
  reserves into the fi ght.”
  ▲▼▲
  From their windows in the eighth fl oor of the Chungsei Building, Third Platoon 
  felt the world shaking under the thunderous steps of the charging Zeus. They saw 
  He keyed his comm channel. “Bomber Lead to all Bombers. Has anybody seen 
  a damn thing yet?”
  “Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse,” Lieutenant Greshner drawled 
  back. “Now explain to me one more time why we’re all spread over hell and gone? 
  I’m not a big fan of these lone-wolf tactics, sir.” 
  “Because,” Saul replied, with a hint of irritation, “Lieutenant Vessen has caused 
  enough havoc up north to draw out two whole battalions of ‘Mechs. All that’s left 
  in the city is some reserve armor and infantry. We’re not gonna let them tie us up 
  and then whisk all the goodies from the plant out the back door. Coming in like 
  this, from all four sides at once, we have every major access road covered. I’m not 
  just here for the ballistics plant, Dave. If we do this right, we’re gonna stuff  the 
  DropShip full of free parts and ammo courtesy of his Celestial Magnifi cence.”
  “You’re the boss, boss,” Greshner said. “I’m just worried about getting nickel and 
  dimed to death by gnats.”
  “By what,” the youngest Bomber, Izzy McClain asked. “A few militia tanks? Maybe 
  an Urbie or two? I promise, Lieutenant Greshner, if the big bad militia guys scare 
  you too much? I’ll come save you.”
  “About the time you think you can’t be touched, McClain,” Greshner growled 
  back, “someone gives you a good solid smack in the mouth.”
  “I got nothing, Captain, not even civilian traffi  c or chatter. It’s like a ghost town 
  up here,” Lieutenant Horn off ered. “But my sat-relay says that a full battalion 
  and support forces are chasing Scout and Strike Lances through the northwest 
  province near Harwang and Zico.”
  “Well, I guess it worked,” Saul called back. “Just the same, everybody be careful 
  ready for something weird. If you come across anything too heavy fall back and 
  wait for help. Let’s do this like we done ‘em all before, folks.”
  As he drew closer to the city Saul continued to scan through his sensors. Finally 
  he shook his head. “Where you boys hiding out?”
  ▲▼▲
  CITY OF BITHINIA
  BITHINIA, CAPELLAN CONFEDERATION
  17 SEPTEMBER 3022
  Subcommander Li Feng checked his viewfi nder one more time. His mouth had 
  long-since dried and now his hands began to shake. The image in the goggles 
  ARTIST: BRAD MCDEVITT
  PUBLICATION: FIELD MANUAL: CAPELLAN CONFEDERATION
  YEAR: 2000
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  135
  
  H O R N E T ' S  N E S T
  A cheer swept through the command center. The clear image of the destroyed 
  Zeus was magnifi ed on the central screen. As fast as the cheer went up, the major 
  shouted it down.
  “Our citizens have just died in that explosion,” he reminded them. “The enemy 
  we face is powerful. Perhaps the greatest threat any of you will ever face. However, 
  these metal-shod monsters are not invincible. There are things they excel at, and 
  things which they do not do well. When this day ends, we will hold our city, but 
  some of us, perhaps many of us, will be dead and I will not hear those deaths 
  cheered in my presence.”
  Silence seized the command center save for the radio traffi  c being broadcast 
  as part of the central viewing system. People began to slowly work back into their 
  tasks with the realization that what they were watching was not abstract, not 
  pieces on a game board. They were men and women fi ghting and dying in the 
  very city they called home. They were countrymen making the ultimate sacrifi ce 
  to protect what they held most dear.
  Pointing to the screen on the right, Zhiyi directed two new orders. “Direct Armor 
  Three and Armor Four to slow that Archer down however they have to. Send the 
  Warriors in to strafe that Cyclops and pull it towards Peoples’ Glorious Way.” 
  ▲▼▲
  The Archer unleashed a volley of lasers and missiles that spiked its heat briefl y. 
  Saul felt the rush pass through his feet and on out the top of his head, but the 
  resulting carnage was worth it. Two armored personnel carriers and several 
  infantrymen were destroyed in a moment. The rest began to run away as if his 
  Archer were a monster in some disaster trideo.
  Suddenly, a brief scream blipped over the comm channel. It was an instant of 
  pure, raw pain that suddenly went silent. Saul felt his heart drop and the cold rush 
  of adrenaline fl ash through his veins.
  “Bomber Lead to all Bombers,” he snapped. “Check in, all units check in.”
  “Bomber Two, check,” Saul heard Dave Greshner answer.
  “Bomber Four check,” Reggie Horn off ered next.
  Past that only static lingered. No reply of any kind from Bomber Three.
  “Bomber Four, get over there and see if he’s really down or if it’s just a comms 
  issue. Do it fast.”
  “Moving now, Captain!”
  Turning his attention back fully to the war in front of him, Saul spotted a Swift 
  Wind patrol vehicle in the distance. He launched long-range missiles from both 
  launchers as a refl ex, and watched their corkscrewing smoke trails wind their way 
  to the target. A brilliant explosion detonated the small scout vehicle even as it 
  tried to race backwards.
  “You wanna play, you bastards?” Saul gritted his teeth. “I got nothin’ but time!”
  ▲▼▲
  The Warrior attack helicopters were fl ying low and fast, swerving through 
  the canyons of the downtown district as they homed in on their assigned 
  target. Holding tight formation, they looked like metallic hornets looking for 
  something to sting. Rounding east past Blessed Laborer Park, they spotted 
  the Cyclops running up People’s Liberation Avenue. At once the four Warriors 
  unleashed their light autocannons and their short-range missiles. The Cyclops 
  suddenly stepped low and right, and the ordnance skipped over the ‘Mech’s 
  head, detonating in a large offi  ce complex. As the Warriors passed over the 
  Cyclops’ head, they banked right. Behind them, the massive BattleMech rose 
  and gave chase.
  Not far away, a lance of Hetzer armor rolled under the bridge that allowed 
  People’s Liberation Avenue to pass over Fifth Street. At an order the tanks all shut 
  off  their engines and opened their hatches. They powered off  everything except 
  the exact minimal functions required to fi re their main guns. The orders were 
  puzzling to say the least, but today was not a day to question orders. Turning to 
  his driver, the armor lance commander muttered, “They said we’d know what to 
  shoot at when the time was right. Let’s hope that’s true.”
  The Warriors were doing their best to lead the Cyclops closer to allied forces. 
  They ducked and banked and circled around the bestial Cyclops, fi ring little 
  pinprick shots at it but doing very little damage. The Cyclops itself did its best to 
  it heading toward them, and as it drew level with their position, the men were 
  forced to duck out of sight to avoid being seen. Just as the metal monstrosity 
  passed them by, the order to fi re was barked into their ears.
  The soldiers leapt from their positions, working in teams of three. Shoulder-
  mounted launchers were aimed and fi red in a matter of seconds. Like spitwads 
  being hurled at a charging bull, the little projectiles hammered the area near the 
  Zeus’ cockpit. Most were detonated by the large, round shoulder socket, but one 
  or two slipped past to rattle the ferroglass. As the machine began to turn their 
  way, the platoon sergeant screamed a retreat and the soldiers ran for their lives.
  Outside, the Zeus peered into the shattered windows. As it did so, the UrbanMech 
  ducked safely out of sight just as a lance of Vedette tanks rolled into range. The 
  quartet of armored vehicles raised their turret-mounted cannons and began to 
  hammer the Zeus. Smoke, shrapnel, and explosions peppered the Zeus across its 
  entire body. Without hesitation the Zeus raised its arm and began to fi re back.
  The Vedettes rolled backward but the hail of fi re from the Zeus caught a seam 
  in one tank’s armor and set off  its magazine. It erupted in a fi reball, and the line 
  of tanks cracked. As they started to turn and run the wounded UrbanMech came 
  back into view and let loose on the lightly armored back of the assault ‘Mech. 
  The shells shredded and penetrated the armor and the Zeus once again whirled 
  to face a new attacker. Back to the building, it slashed a large laser across the 
  UrbanMech’s middle. The laser blasted deeply into the armor and left some of the 
  UrbanMech’s interior exposed, but the ‘Mech held its ground.
  Inside the building the men of Third Platoon were bracing to fi re a second time. 
  The ‘Mech’s exposed back was in clear view through the shattered offi  ce windows. 
  Three diff erent fi ring teams took a long moment to aim carefully, and then sent 
  missiles deep into the interior of the attacking enemy BattleMech. An explosion 
  fl ashed back at the infantry platoon, incinerating them before they could even 
  scream. The infantry missiles had touched off  the Zeus’ missile ammunition, and 
  the resulting explosion destroyed a full quarter of the building even as it turned 
  the ’Mech into a shower of fi ery, smoking shrapnel.
  ▲▼▲
  ARTIST: LOSTON WALLACE
  PUBLICATION: FIELD MANUAL: MERCENARIES, REVISED
  YEAR: 2003
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  136
  
  H O R N E T ' S  N E S T
  the Cyclops fell the image was taken in stride. They moved to the next target and 
  kept Zhiyi up to date on the progress of all units.
  “The Marauder has been ignited with inferno rounds and Armor Five along with 
  Armor One are scoring direct hits,” the commander off ered up from his console.
  Zhiyi nodded. “Very good. Order them to keep fi ring until it drops and tell 
  Second Platoon to remount and be ready to re-ignite if necessary. The Academy 
  should provide a decent vantage point.”
  As the commander relayed the orders Zhiyi stared at the Archer on the central 
  screen. It was the only enemy ‘Mech they had not yet contained. It had cut a 
  broad swath through the eastern edge of the city and was threatening to enter 
  the vicinity of the ballistics plant.
  “Notify the plant that we may not be able to stop the Archer. Rally all units to 
  Celestial near Twelfth Street. Tell them all, commander: we stop that Archer or die 
  trying!”
  ▲▼▲
  “DAMMIT!” Saul punched his control couch 
  in frustration. He had told Reggie not 
  to chase the helicopters. With no 
  fi ght back, but the fast-moving helicopters proved too tough to hit with its guns. 
  Only when one of the Warriors got too close did it managed to connect with a 
  giant metal fi st that swatted the helicopter out of the air like a bug. The debris 
  shattered against a building and fell to the earth in fl ames.
  A moment later an autocannon round missed the Cyclops and hammered 
  another helpless building in a shower of glass and steel fragments.
  The Cyclops turned, visibly surprised, and spotted the UrbanMech fi ring from 
  the middle of the bridge. Breaking into a run, the Cyclops fi rst answered with 
  long-range missiles. Still, the UrbanMech held its ground, fi ring again and missing 
  a second time. The Cyclops began to close the range quickly, and a second missile 
  volley peppered light damage on the UrbanMech’s left arm stub. Just as the 
  Cyclops was entering the long range for its hip-mounted heavy autocannon, the 
  UrbanMech hopped off  the bridge and began retreating down Fifth Street.
  Not to be denied, the Cyclops’ MechWarrior deftly angled his charging beast so 
  that it careened off  the bridge and managed to keep its feet even as it fell twelve 
  meters from the bridge down onto Fifth Street. As it rose from a crouch, it leveled 
  the maw of the heavy autocannon at the slow UrbanMech trying to back up.
  Behind the Cyclops, a row of four very shocked Hetzer crews saw nothing but 
  ‘Mech legs at pointblank range. Their sudden barrage of fi re blew the Cyclops’ 
  legs apart. Every round struck its target. Every impact wrenched another vicious 
  chunk out of the lightly-armored limbs. Actuators shattered and exploded under 
  the intense fi re. Myomer bundles were shredded away. Composite skeleton 
  structure was sawed into bits and soon the torso of the Cyclops came crashing 
  down like a building whose lower fl oors had been detonated. 
  It fell into the bridge and pinwheeled off  the structure, landing face-fi rst in the 
  middle of Fifth Street. Nothing but jagged stubs of legs remained. Only after the 
  ’Mech had crashed could the crews of Armor Two see that the Cyclops had fi red its 
  heavy autocannon. The UrbanMech’s entire torso had been gnawed through.
  ▲▼▲
  The command center was no longer awash with victory. The painful cost of the 
  battle was coming home 
  to the men and women 
  staffi  ng the center. As 
  “DAMMIT!”Saul punched his control couch
  g
  vy autocannon at the slow UrbanMech trying to back up.
  ps, a row of four very shocked Hetzer crews saw nothing but 
  blank
  und st
  htly-a
  Myom
  ed int
  g who
  dge a
  et. No
  could
  The U
  enter 
  g ho
  wome
  er. As
  DAMMIT!  Saul punched his control couch 
  in frustration. He had told Reggie not 
  d
  to chase the helicopters. With no 
  row of four very shocked Hetzer crews saw nothing but 
  k range. Their sudden barrage of fi re blew the Cyclops’
  truck its target. Every impact wrenched another vicious
  armored limbs. Actuators shattered and exploded under 
  er bundles were shredded away. Composite skeleton
  to bits and soon the torso of the Cyclops came crashing
  ose lower fl oors had been detonated. 
  and pinwheeled off  the structure, landing face-fi rst in the
  othing but jagged stubs of legs remained. Only after the
  d the crews of Armor Two see that the Cyclops had fi red its
  UrbanMech’s entire torso had been gnawed through.
  ▲▼▲
  was no longer awash with victory. The painful cost of the
  ome 
  en 
  s
  ARTIST: STEVE VENTERS
  PUBLICATION: MECHWARRIOR: THE 
  BATTLETECH ROLE PLAYING GAME
  YEAR: 1986
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  137
  
  H O R N E T ' S  N E S T
  ▲▼▲
  CIVIL DEFENSE CENTER, CITY OF BITHINIA
  BITHINIA, CAPELLAN CONFEDERATION
  17 SEPTEMBER 3022
  The gash of ruin left in the Archer’s wake looked like a scar across the eastern 
  city from the air. Xao Zhiyi found himself marveling at the skill that had kept the 
  slow, awkward Archer moving so quickly even under the hail of fi re that had been 
  set upon it. Even now the machine was moving across the plains as fast as its 
  MechWarrior could make it go.
  “The last enemy BattleMech has ceased attack and fl ed the city under fi re 
  from most of our remaining Civil Defense units. Do we pursue?” the commander 
  asked.
  Xao Zhiyi shook his head. “We do not. We have won the day. Open a channel to 
  that Archer for me.”
  The commander spoke into his headset. After a few crisp words he turned back 
  and nodded at Zhiyi, “On your private line, Sir. He was so close to victory, Major. 
  Why did he fl ee?”
  “Even the largest ‘Mechs can know fear, Commander.” He grabbed the handset 
  and placed it to his ear. “I wish to speak to your commander.”
  “I bet you do,” the voice spat back, panting hard for breath.
  “I wish to off er him honors of war,” Zhiyi explained.
  A pause. A long pause. More labored breathing. “This is Captain Trenton of the 
  Northstar Irregulars. I accept your off er of formal honors of war.”
  “Then you will call off  the raids in Harwang and Zico?”
  “I will, yes, and you will allow my people to board their DropShip without 
  further combat or harassment?”
  “Those that can walk on their own power, yes.”
  “Can we negotiate a prisoner ransom for my men?”
  “I believe we can, Captain. I see no reason to be punitive in victory. However, 
  the salvage of your BattleMechs will stay with us as restitution for the damages 
  done to the city.”
  “I agree to your terms. Thank you, sir.” The voice was strained, pushed to a 
  breaking point, but the respect was sincere.
  “BattleMechs are powerful, but not invincible, Captain. Many MechWarriors 
  never get to enjoy the wisdom of that lesson. I will make the arrangements here. 
  Please notify me once you have selected a landing site for your DropShip.” With 
  that, he cut off  the link. Below him, the commander was frantically waving his 
  arms over his head and pointing at the tactical communications channels.
  “The colonel wants to speak to me, I imagine,” he told the commander. “By all 
  means, connect us.”
  Rage exploded in Zhiyi’s ear now, which could only be the colonel. “By what 
  possible right do you off er honors of war, you ancient cur?” 
  “You directed me to defend the city, Sir, and I have. I off ered the attackers 
  honors in order to gather their salvage and prevent further damage to the city.”
  “The attackers in the city and the raiders near Harwang are one unit! You have 
  allowed these barbarians to escape unscathed, you addled relic!”
  “A thousand pardons, Colonel, I had not understood that to be the case. Do 
  with me as you must.”
  “You were ordered to notify me in the event of an attack on the city,” the 
  voice shouted. “I will have you brought up on formal charges for ignoring my 
  command!”
  “You directed me to notify you of any unexpected problems, Colonel,” Zhiyi said. 
  “The attack upon the city was obvious and expected. It was my belief that you 
  trusted the valiant men and women of the reserves to take care of these fl anking 
  stragglers while you took the fi ght to them. However, do as you must.”
  With no defi ance to crush, the colonel just seethed. “This is not over, Xao Zhiyi! 
  You have robbed me of my glory! I will see you in chains for this no matter how 
  many medals were once pinned upon your chest!”
  “As you see fi t, Colonel,” Xao Zhiyi repeated. “For now, the city is saved.”
  Below him he saw the young commander cover a smile and smother a laugh. 
  For the fi rst time this day, he allowed himself to smile back, and then returned to 
  the task of organizing the aftermath. The city was safe, for now, and not even the 
  rage of a petulant young lion could make him regret his decisions.
  response from the young MechWarrior, he keyed the private channel he shared 
  with Lieutenant Greshner.
  “This is bad, Dave,” he said. “I think Reggie is down. I need to rally with you fi ve 
  minutes ago.”
  The reply took a long moment to arrive. Saul could tell by the pain in Dave’s 
  voice something was very, very wrong. 
  “Naw, sir, don’t do that,” he said through heavy static. “They got me with fi re 
  rounds. I’m lit up and I can’t get distance. They’re gonna get me, Saul, it’s a matter 
  of time. I’ll buy you what I can, but you gotta get out of here before they get you 
  too.”
  “What? Where are you, I can get them off  of you! Tell me where you are!”
  “I been doin’ this for a long time, Saul. We’re done. We’re beat. Get Charlotte out 
  of here and get safe.”
  “We do NOT get beat, Dave! Now tell me where you are!”
  “When I was a kid,” ‘Dry Roasted’ Dave Greshner gritted out through pain and 
  static, “me and my brother once kicked over a hornet’s nest down by the river and 
  damn near got stung to death. After we healed up, my dad whipped us both for 
  bein’ so stupid. That’s what we did, Saul. We kicked over the hornet’s nest. Don’t 
  get stung to death, partner….”
  The radio turned to static. The reality of it all began to collide with Saul Trenton’s 
  conscious mind. The Bombers had been broken. They had walked in without a 
  care in the world and their boasts of never being defeated. Impossible though it 
  seemed, it was the truth.
  He was now very much alone.
  The thought made his stomach drop out the bottom of his boots. His 
  sensors began to register long-range contacts, closing in from every direction. 
  A swarm of enemies hunting his ‘Mech. A swarm of enemies closing in for a 
  final, decisive kill.
  Turning the ‘Mech back to the east, Saul threw down the throttle and pushed 
  the Archer into a fl at-out run. His steps shattered the concrete. He saw the streaks 
  of missiles and the fl ash of lasers rushing past his cockpit as he sprinted for his life. 
  He fi red back wildly, not even aiming but trying to terrify his attackers with the 
  sheer volume of guns the Archer could bring to bear. Every minute, every second, 
  more and more infantry and armor started to line rooftops and streets in an eff ort 
  to cut him off .
  As the wall of incoming fi re grew steadily more intense, the Archer began to 
  shudder from the impacts. His armor was holding, but a headlong charge was 
  clearly not going to succeed. He had been outfl anked and cut off . It was time for 
  something creative. It was time for something diff erent.
  To his left was a white building that looked like any other government building 
  on a hundred other worlds. Five stories tall, the building came was just a bit taller 
  the Archer’s 13 meter height. Saul slammed the Archer through the wall, managing 
  against all odds to keep the ‘Mech upright and moving. He found himself in a 
  tangle of plaster and steel with debris impacting against his ‘Mech as he blasted 
  through the Interior towards the far wall. Within seconds, he had stumbled 
  through the inner walls and offi  ces. He fi red two of his lasers at the exterior wall 
  and weakened it with a visible scar just before he sent the Archer blindly through 
  the concrete. The ‘Mechs massive hands pushed through fi rst, and ripped the scar 
  open to allow the Archer’s exit. Even as he escaped the building, it crashed down 
  like a house of cards behind him.
  He emerged on top of an armor unit moving to fl ank his previous position. 
  The Archer’s massive feet smashed one tank turret fl at and caused other crews 
  to leap from their vehicles in fear. Utterly stunned by the sudden appearance of 
  the ‘Mech, the Capellans weren’t prepared to fi ght. Amidst its thunderous steps 
  and a rain of concrete debris they ran for their lives. A few brave soldiers did their 
  best to fi re at the rampaging monster, but a sudden burst from his left missile 
  launcher sent the rest of the Capellans scrambling for cover. Saul stumbled and 
  staggered, dancing over the uneven ground of tanks, men, rubble and turrets. 
  Metal screamed and splintered as people were smashed into pulp beneath his 
  feet. The Archer’s gyro was spinning out of control and in the midst of all that 
  chaos, somehow, Saul stayed moving and upright until he was past the causeway 
  and out onto the main highway that headed east out of the city.
  As the Archer fl ed down the highway occasional shots rang against it steel skin. 
  Saul ignored the sounds and kept his mind focused on speed and balance. Soon 
  the Archer was out of the city.
  He felt relief but knew that he was far, far from home.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  138
  
  H O R N E T ' S  N E S T
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: CLASSIC BATTLETECH: A GAME OF ARMORED COMBAT
  YEAR: 2002
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  139
  
   
  ARTIST: MICHAEL KOMACK
  PUBLICATION: TACTICAL OPERATIONS
  YEAR: 2008
  YEAR: 2008
  YEAR: 2008
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  140
  
   
  ARTIST: DOUG CHAFFEE
  PUBLICATION: FALCON RISING (NOVEL)
  YEAR: 1999
  YEAR: 1999
  YEAR: 1999
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  141
  
   
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: COMBAT OPERATIONS
  YEAR: 2003
  YEAR: 2003
  YEAR: 2003
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  142
  
   
  ARTIST: MATT WILSON
  PUBLICATION: FIELD MANUAL: MERCENARIES
  YEAR: 1997
  YEAR: 1997
  YEAR: 1997
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  143
  
  V E C T O R
  ARTIST: MICHAEL KOMARCK
  PUBLICATION: MERCENARIES SUPPLEMENTAL UPDATE
  YEAR: 2006
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  144
  
  V E C T O R
  SOMEWHERE BENEATH THE ROCKLAND FURIES
  ROCKLAND
  SMOKE JAGUAR OCCUPATION ZONE
  5 SEPTEMBER 3059
  The insect made the assistant want to cry. Oh, it was just an Acrolophitus hirtipes 
  Huntressina, a common Huntress green fool. But she had not seen much beyond 
  the monochromatic gray of tunnels or breathed air that did not clog her throat in 
  months that felt like years that had the taste of eternity ...
  “Genetics is destiny,” said the Keeper, a hatchet-faced man with steel specs that 
  lent him the look of a machine. “Fact, quiaff ?” 
  “Aff .” The assistant did not like him. And why choose her? She was not an 
  entomologist or parasitologist or any other –ist, for that matter. Yes, she was 
  scientist-caste, but only a tech and no one special. Yet appear he had: four months 
  before the Sixth Jaguar Dragoons’ ignominious defeat on Labrea. Then the Keeper 
  had asked if she wished to live. If so, they must leave at once.
  Withdraw? Smoke Jaguars met the enemy head-on, quiaff ? And yet ... A pincer 
  of doubt nipped at the pink folds of her brain. Had not the Tenth Garrison Cluster 
  hurled nothing more devastating than harsh language—and what was that but 
  surrender? 
  So here she was, with these rogues and a Keeper of a Bloodname Not-To-Be-
  Spoken worming beneath the mountains. She doubted even the ilKhan suspected 
  the true nature of their enterprise, unless this was some strange Trial of Bloodright. 
  And if this was treason ... These tunnels would seem a paradise compared to the 
  dark, dangerous recesses of the Prinz Eugen.    
  “Ah, but if this is so, then I ask you.” The Keeper carefully placed the insect on the 
  thick stem of a jungle plant that drooped over a water-fi lled tank. “Whose genetics 
  and which destiny?” His lips twisted in a wry grimace. “Observe and learn.”
  For a long moment, the fool crouched at the junction of leaf and petiole. Then, 
  as if prodded by an unseen hand, the insect lurched forward in a jerky shuffl  e, so 
  labored she imagined she heard the reluctant scrape of its clawed tarsi. When the 
  insect reached the leaf’s edge, it hesitated again. 
  Stop, the assistant thought at it, crazily. Stop now, while you can ...
  But the fool leapt. 
  ▲▼▲
  FIRST EDO COMPANY
  RED DEVIL MESA, ROCKLAND
  5 SEPTEMBER 3059
  They were mop-up: a single company commanded by a man who’d seen 
  better days in this Dragon’s army. That is, before he cracked up two years back. 
  His people probably thought he was still nuts. At least, that’s what Chu-sa Evan 
  Mathers assumed. Since he piloted the company’s sole ‘Mech—a Gunslinger—
  there was nothing like being on the right side of a couple Gauss rifl es and pulse 
  lasers to get people falling all over themselves to stay on your good side. So, either 
  his people cut him some slack, or had a misplaced sense of civic duty. After all, 
  nearly everyone had lost someone when Edo was vaporized. In that one horrible 
  moment, Turtle Bay’s citizens became kin. If you believed the talking heads on the 
  evening news. Mathers, he had enough relatives, thanks. 
  Anyway, even if his people objected when he quietly splintered away from the 
  Eleventh Legion of Vega (still dicking around Liberty Park on the other side of the 
  frigging planet) and severed all communications and plunked them down in, oh, 
  a desert ... well, he didn’t much care. Suck it up, or get real comfortable using that 
  thumb to hitch a ride home. 
  In any event they hadn’t counted on prisoners. Who would? Clanners were 
  Clanners. Mathers had counted on reducing them to grease-spots, not inviting them 
  for coff ee and danish. So when Mathers fried that little bugger of a Dasher with 
  three bursts from his pulse lasers, they’d converted a supply Quonset. A couple pair 
  of shackles, some chains ... Hey, it didn’t have to be the Edo Hilton, for chrissake.  
  Thing was there were, what? Only a handful of Elementals scattering through 
  those arroyos like cockroaches after he took out the OmniMech? (And what was 
  with that? A Dasher had tissue paper for armor and only popguns for weapons. Pit 
  that against a Gunslinger and get yourself captured in the process? Desperation, 
  maybe. Only explanation …)
  As for the Elementals: Well, hello, it wasn’t as if those guys were gonna, you 
  know, blend in. Plus, they were in the middle of nowhere: the whole company 
  perched on a red rock plateau overlooking a shallow scrub valley to the west and 
  ridged north and west by the towering horseshoe of the snow-shrouded Furies, 
  monsters at nearly four thousand meters. Nearest settlement was two thousand 
  klicks north. Worst case scenario, a few Jag-stragglers got their collective heinies 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  145
  ROCKLAND
  World Name:
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  Position in System:
  Time to Jump Point:
  Number of Satellites:
  Surface Gravity:
  Atm. Pressure:
  Equatorial Temperature:
  Surface Water:
  Recharging Station:
  HPG Class Type:
  Highest Native Life:
  Population (3059):
  Socio-Industrial Levels:
  A small rocky world, Rockland is aptly named for the mountain 
  ranges that criss-cross its surface. Clan Smoke Jaguar captured 
  the world in March 3050, during the ﬁ rst wave of the Clan invasion. 
  A mere two Stars of Jaguar ‘Mechs destroyed the defending 
  Rockland People’s Army—a poorly-equipped mechanized infantry 
  regiment—within minutes of landing in Liberty Park.    
  Rockland’s primary industries were mining and the export of 
  the bountiful stone that gives the planet its name. The stone 
  quarrying and carving industry surprisingly experienced a huge 
  upturn after the world’s capture, as the arrogant Jaguars had 
  countless monuments to their martial greatness erected all 
  across their Inner Sphere Occupation Zone. Rumor has it some 
  pieces were even shipped back to the Clan Homeworlds.  
  Rockland has two major continents, and countless rocky islands 
  strewn across its seas. The southern continent of Granite includes 
  the capital of Maverick, along with the majority of Rockland’s 
  population. Scattered mining and quarrying settlements are 
  dotted across the remaining continent of Limerock.
  w
  e
  s
  t
  r
  r
  b
  m
  k
  e
  w
  e
  s
  o
  u
  e
   
  h
  a
  a
  .
  a
  m
  e
  t
  r
  l
  O
  c
  n
  e
  h
  s
  t
   
  t
  n
  —
  t
  i
   
  d
  o
  N
  s
  i
  W
  a
  e
  G
  J
  e
  a
  C
  s
  v
  n
  h
   
  s
  p
  h
  p
  S
  a
  r
  k
  r
  3
  v
  y
  S
  e
  e
  r
  v
  a
  p
  y
  e
  :
  K
  e
  o
  s
  e
  w
  v
  e
  a
  m
  A
  s
  3
  o
  L
  9
  i
  o
  e
  i
  m
  a
  A
  T
  p
  e
  s
  i
  a
  n
  t
  y
  J
  0
  R
  s
  u
  :
  T
  N
  s
  o
  a
  O
  t
  p
  s
  v
  t
  f
  r
  u
  k
  e
  D
  h
  e
  t
  p
  e
  s
  h
  d
  r
  M
  t
  c
  c
   
  e
  n
  r
  r
  e
  i
  u
  r
  l
  p
  n
  n
  g
  t
  n
  b
  e
  e
  a
  S
  a
  o
  n
  o
  R
  t
  g
  x
  e
  y
  o
  e
  d
  r
  s
  w
  r
  s
  e
  t
  k
  t
  g
  e
  k
  s
  s
  e
  u
  d
  h
  e
  d
  d
  c
  m
  u
  a
  o
  d
  h
  t
  r
  a
  s
  u
  n
  ranges that criss cross its surface. Clan Smoke Jaguar captured 
  A mere two Stars of Jaguar ‘Mechs destroyed the defending
  A
  p
  y
  p
  y
  q pp
  y
  upturn after the world s capture as the arrogant Jaguars had
  Rockland s primary industries were m ning and the export of
  h
  R
  Z
  O
  h
  S
  I
  i
  h
  pieces were even shipped back to the Clan Homeworlds.
  it
  Th
  th
  ti
  t f G
  it i
  l d
  Socio Industrial Levels:
  S
  Highest Native Life:
  S
  f
  W t
  S
  Atm. Pressure:
  Ti
  t
  J
  P i t
  T
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  S
  ROCKLAND
  VECTOR
  I L S A  B I C K
  
  V E C T O R
  FIRST EDO COMPANY
  The holding cell was steamy and stank of sour sweat. But what 
  Mathers didn’t expect and hadn’t before noticed was a delicate 
  hint of sweet, soothing jasmine. The scent stopped him dead in his 
  tracks, like a sudden slap to the face. At the height of his crack-up, 
  he’d smelled jasmine everywhere because jasmine was ... Grace ...
  Please, God. Sudden sweat dewed his upper lip. Not now, this isn’t 
  real, it’s not ...
  But it was. The air was laced with a subtle fl oral essence that 
  battened onto his heart like the claws of a wild animal and fi lled 
  Mathers’ mouth with the queer tang of 
  rust and salt, tears and blood ... and 
  Grace ... 
  No, not again, not now ... 
  No use. Other memories fl ooded 
  his mind, slamming through 
  the neat mental dikes the 
  shrinks had taught him with 
  a sensation that was nearly 
  physical, like a shattering fall 
  from a great height into a 
  cobalt sea that was infi nitely 
  cold and fantastically deep. 
  A scent. That’s all it took and 
  then the images—his past—
  burst onto the black screen 
  of his mind in a spray of color 
  and light. Or had they been 
  leaking in infi nitesimal dribs 
  and drabs along with the 
  nightmares, and he hadn’t 
  noticed? He didn’t know, 
  couldn’t tell ... 
  Because then he was 
  sinking, he was drowning 
  in memory. Panic crushed his 
  lungs, and his heart battered against 
  his caging ribs, and he tottered on his 
  feet as the dingy little room swam and 
  the phantoms of his mind coalesced to 
  coherence like the swirling collapse of a 
  dying star. Fresh pain, as scarlet as a rose 
  bristling with thorns, bloomed in his chest 
  and he thought he might, fi nally, lose 
  control—right there, right then and damn 
  the rest. Either that, or blow his brains out. 
  He squeezed his eyes tight, tight ... felt himself 
  giving in ... letting go ...
  “Oh, Grace.” Whispering her name in a kind of awe 
  and if there’d been a mirror, he’d have seen a grizzled, 
  gaunt man in a rumpled uniform cupping air with both 
  hands. “Grace ...”
  Yes, there were her lips on his palms, her tongue tracing fi rst 
  love-line, then life-line, and he groaned. Now the subtle fi ngers of an evening’s 
  breeze lifted from the Sawagashii River and feathered his cheeks in a soft lover’s 
  caress. The rustle of grass and the whisper of the moist green drapery of the 
  willow beneath which they lay and now he could taste his wife’s sweet mouth 
  and now she was moaning, her back arching as their limbs twined and he moved 
  in and with her, and their lovemaking was slow and cool . . .
  Never been like this before ... What’s happening to me? 
  Fight it, he had to fi ght this, no matter how much he wanted to linger. His throat 
  convulsed, jamming against a lump he’d never quite gotten rid of since Turtle Bay. 
  Yes, that was reality, those tongues of fi re lashing the sky, the river boiling away 
  in great, hissing gouts of superheated steam. Fiery explosions had scorched the 
  city, blasting away everything good in his life, leaving only an obsidian stain of 
  out of DC space and hightailed it back to Huntress, and good riddance. 
  Except. 
  Those fi ve Elementals had been on foot—well, okay, in battle armor.  So they 
  had jump jets. Big deal. Toads with minimal weaponry, lasers only, so they must 
  be out of SRMs, and they were close. Mathers could smell them and he 
  wanted them. Bringing them in would be ... vindication. Because his 
  (Grace)
  crack-up—everything about 
  (Grace)
  Edo—that was the monkey on his back he wanted 
  to buck, real bad. 
  So Mathers had taken to—insert air 
  quotes—visiting their guest. So far, a non-
  starter and, well, that pissed him off . Got 
  the old volcanic rage bubbling in his chest. 
  At night, his head felt ready to explode, and 
  don’t talk to him about sleep. Hah! Sleep 
  was just an alien interlude between familiar 
  nightmares. 
  Except ... The bad dreams 
  were much worse now and 
  only growing stronger. Those 
  nightmares felt like the steady 
  unraveling of a fraying seam.
  So, maybe harsher measures. 
  Crack their little guest like an 
  egg. Yeah. That would feel good. 
  Make him a nice omelet.
  ▲▼▲
  ROGUE SMOKE JAGUAR OUTPOST
  Kicking free of the leaf, the insect sailed in a 
  high, graceful arc. At its zenith, the insect hung as 
  if suspended on an invisible string between life and 
  death. Then gravity, like destiny, fi sted and the insect 
  splashed down like a stone.
  “Now,” said the Keeper as the thrashing insect sank, 
  “as the fool drowns, the enslaver actually senses the 
  water and ... ah, there. You see?”
  The assistant did. To her immense relief, the 
  insect was nearly gone, its limbs twitching in agonal 
  paroxysms. At the anus, however, a thin brown 
  rope had appeared and now whipped and pulsed 
  in a muscular cord, growing longer until, with a fi nal 
  twitch, the parasite twisted free. 
  “And that,” the Keeper said, fishing out the dead fool, 
  “is an example of parasite-driven behavior. The maturing 
  nematode produces a neuropeptide that influences the 
  insect. In plain terms, the host is brainwashed into committing 
  suicide.”
  “That hardly seems adaptive.” She watched with horrifi ed 
  fascination as the Mechtian enslaver—Spinochordodes tellinii Strana 
  Mechtii—eeled through the water. The nematode was no wider than a hair 
  but easily fi ve times longer than the dead fool and she shivered, imagining the 
  enslaver spooling in the fool’s dark belly. “What about fi nding a host in which it 
  might live indefi nitely?”
  “A fi nal host? Unfortunately, most parasites require a diff erent host for each 
  developmental stage. Yet, just as this insect died fulfi lling the nematode’s 
  imperative, so other vectors are driven in ways that may prove fatal. The parasite’s 
  genetics prescribe the fool’s destiny.”
  “And this will help us ... how?”
  “Not only how.” The Keeper’s lips split in a death’s grin. “When.” 
  ▲▼▲
  Mathers didn’t expect and hadn’t befor
  hint of sweet, soothing jasmine. The scen
  tracks, like a sudden slap to the face. At t
  he’d smelled jasmine everywhere because
  Please, God. Sudden sweat dewed his u
  real, it’s not ...
  But it was. The air was laced with a 
  battened onto his heart like the claws o
  Mathers’ mouth
  rust and salt
  Grace ...
  No, not 
  No use
  his m
  the n
  shrin
  a se
  phys
  from
  coba
  cold
  A sc
  then
  burs
  of h
  and
  lea
  an
  n
  sink
  in mem
  lungs, and 
  his caging rib
  feet as the ding
  the phantoms of
  coherence like th
  dying star. Fresh 
  bristling with tho
  and he thought 
  control—right the
  the rest. Either tha
  He squeezed his eye
  giving in ... letting go ...
  “Oh, Grace.” Whispering 
  and if there’d been a mirror, 
  gaunt man in a rumpled unifor
  hands. “Grace ...”
  Yes, there were her lips on his palm
  love line then life line and he groaned Now the sub
  inimal weaponry, lasers only, so they must 
  e. Mathers could smell them and he 
  d be ... vindication. Because his 
  back he wanted 
  ert air 
  a non-
  off . Got 
  s chest. 
  de, and 
  h! Sleep 
  familiar 
  t sailed in a 
  nsect hung as
  between life and
  ed and the insect
  hing insect sank,
  tually senses the
  ense relief, the
  tching in agonal
  a thin brown 
  ped and pulsed 
  until, with a fi nal
  ng out the dead fool, 
  behavior. The maturing
  ide that influences the
  ainwashed into committing
  She watched with horrifi ed 
  ver—Spinochordodes tellinii Strana 
  The nematode was no wider than a hair
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  146
  
  V E C T O R
  ARTIST: MATT PLOG
  PUBLICATION: TECHNICAL READOUT: 3055 UPGRADE
  YEAR: 2005
  “Interrogations, my ass. But I’ll just bet you think she had it coming, right?” She 
  tried pushing past, but the guard pointed at her hip and Gwen rolled her eyes. “It’s 
  not like she’s going to develop superpowers, you know,” she said, as she tugged 
  her pistol out of its holster.
  “No sidearms in the cell, ma’am. Orders.”
  “Fine, take it. I never liked the damn thing. Now get out of my way.” Pushing 
  past, Gwen hurried to the prisoner, who was—mercifully—unconscious. The 
  woman’s face was sheeted with tacky blood from a ragged scalp laceration that 
  jagged right to left like a lightning bolt and through which Gwen caught the 
  faint glimmer of bone. The woman’s eyes were puff ed a hideous purple-black. 
  A long scimitar gash split her right cheek down to the jaw. Of course, her nose 
  was broken, and the stitches on the upper lip Gwen had placed a few days earlier 
  had pulled apart. And there were ... other things: scratches scoring the woman’s 
  chest; fi st-sized bruises over her ribs and one massive hematoma right beneath 
  the woman’s sternum. A gut punch. A really hard one, too.
  Mathers is fi nally losing it ... Snapping on gloves, Gwen felt for the woman’s pulse: 
  thready but there. Dehydrated for sure but, please God, not shocky ... Pressing 
  the woman’s abdomen got no response, but the abdomen wasn’t distended and 
  didn’t feel tense. No fl uid wave. A quick listen and she heard the tinkle of bowel 
  sounds. So maybe their prisoner wasn’t going to bleed out into her belly. (Or she 
  might be bleeding into her pelvis, in which case she was screwed.)
  Gently probing the woman’s face, Gwen winced as she felt the delicate bones 
  of the cheek and right orbit shift. Now the woman gurgled, a bright blood-bubble 
  bursting on her lips to release a soft, wet moan.
  Gwen pushed up on her thighs. “This is crazy. I can’t do a thorough exam here, 
  much less provide eff ective treatment.”
  “Sorry, ma’am. No can do.”
  “Well, okay then, we won’t even talk about how ticked off  Mathers is going 
  to be if she’s got, oh, an abdominal bleed, or a subdural or epidural and her 
  brainstem squishes into her spinal column and she stops breathing. On. Your. 
  Watch.” Stripping off  her gloves, she inverted them one into the other, stuff ed 
  them into her hip pocket and grabbed up her medkit. “How about we make this 
  real easy? I want her in the infi rmary right now.”
  The guard wagged his head in an emphatic negative. “Chu-sa Mathers’s orders. 
  She stays here.”
  She considered arguing but fi gured screw that. “Fine,” she said, as she headed 
  for the exit. “You keep covering your ass. I’ll be right back.”
  fused glass and molten ferrocrete and, somewhere in all that, what remained of 
  his beloved Grace ... 
  Marshalling his will, Mathers came back to himself by centimeters, the memories 
  falling away in a whisper of dead leaves, until all that remained was this now: a 
  dank holding cell on a planet virtually no one cared about.
  “Where?” He was blowing like a spent horse. Oily sweat snaked down his neck. 
  Fists clenched, he loomed over the prisoner slumped in a steel chair bolted to the 
  fl oor, and ground out the words: “Where are they?”
  The prisoner stirred. She was a tiny woman, as naked as a MechWarrior—just 
  a scrap of grimy linen snugging her hips, a sweat-stained halter clinging to her 
  breasts. A fan of lank hair shrouded her face, and she was bent so far forward he 
  could count the knuckles of her spine and the hazy, bluish lumps of her imaging 
  implants. He felt a slender spike of pleasure when he saw that the shackles around 
  her wrists and ankles had rubbed her skin raw. Dark blood-spiders stained the 
  concrete, and more blood dried in crescents around her ankles. 
  Good, let her suff er. Every soldier had his breaking point. Every. Soldier.
  “Where are they?” he asked for the third time. “And how many?”
  “Ba-back ... back for more?” Her head wobbled on the stalk of her neck. Her lips 
  were cracked; a liverish bruise puff ed her right cheek. “G-good. I ... I’ve m-missed 
  you, Mathers.”
  “Where?”
  “Ne-never.” Her lids fl uttered, her eyes rolling to thin white fi ngernails.  “I ... will 
  never ... tell you.”
  “No? Just as you would never surrender?”
  “Did ... not ...”
  “Liar. What happened? Couldn’t key in your ‘Mech’s self-destruct in time? Oh, 
  wait, that’s right: your mind controls it, right? That’s what those implants are for? 
  So, you’re just a coward? Or maybe bat-shit crazy. I’ve heard that happens with 
  you people.” He laughed—a harsh, broken cawing. “Don’t tell me that in some 
  secret little part of your mind you think I’ll show the mercy you denied us on Turtle 
  Bay.” He heard himself say this and wondered where the hell that was coming 
  from. Edo had been destroyed from orbit; not a Clanner had stuck a toe from a 
  ship, the cowards, so he’d never know exactly who had murdered his Grace. But, 
  yes, she knew about Edo and even if she didn’t, she was a Smoke Jaguar and they 
  would all pay ....
  “Let me tell you something, you whore.” His hand fl ashed out to grab a hank of 
  her hair. She gave a small cry as he yanked her head back, exposing the fl esh of her 
  throat, and then the scent of jasmine was nearly overpowering. Straddling the chair 
  now, as intimate as a lover, rage churning in his throat: “There will be no mercy! I will 
  hunt your people down and I will fl ay them alive and I will love every minute ... !”
  “As you love this?” Incredibly, her gaze sharpened on his face and her lips 
  wavered in an awkward, lopsided smile. “Who is the torturer and who the victim? 
  You are weak, Mathers, you do not have the stren—”
  He hit her. The blow was hard and sharp and shivered into his shoulder in 
  a bright hot lancet of pain so pointed, so good, it was almost erotic. Her head 
  snapped to one side, and then she was choking, retching a spray of bright crimson. 
  The sweat glistened on her chest as her throat worked and then she inhaled in a 
  gargling wet shriek, and he … He was appalled to fi nd that he was aroused.
  What am I doing? Suddenly dizzy, he shook his head like a dog. This isn’t the way 
  ... I might be all they say I am, but this was never my way ... 
  Yet the sight of her blood and the knowledge of her helplessness were so pleasing 
  he couldn’t help himself and, really, he didn’t want to. So he hit her again. And again. 
  Because he could. Because he liked it. God help him.
  ▲▼▲
  Ten more soldiers admitted to the infi rmary in the last three hours and one guy 
  who smelled like hepatic failure; no way of getting help because their maniac 
  commander was keeping them black (even down to a frigging guard who’d 
  turned her away from the comm center at gunpoint) and now she had to deal 
  with this crap ... 
  “Oh for Pete’s sake,” said Gwen Hudson as the guard tugged open the cell door. 
  A cloud pillowed out, reeking of fear and urine and clotted blood, and Gwen 
  nearly gagged. “What the hell did that maniac do this time?”
  “Couldn’t say, Doc,” said the guard, though Gwen spied a grin fl itting over his 
  lips. “Chu-sa Mathers does his interrogations solo.”
  ART
  ART
  ART
  ART
  ARTIST
  IST
  IST
  IST
  IST M
  : M
  : MATT
  ATT
  ATT
  ATT
  ATT PL
  PL
  PL
  PL
  PLOG
  OG
  OG
  OG
  OG
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  147
  
  V E C T O R
  ▲▼▲
  Like talking to a stone, but at least Mathers listened, 
  though his right fi st was as swollen as a cantaloupe and 
  had to hurt like hell. And that look in his eyes made her real 
  uncomfortable. She was no stranger to thousand-yard stares, 
  especially after Edo, but Mathers’ eyes were alien: hollow and 
  lifeless and sunken in black caves. Great. Because that brought up 
  a whole bunch of other messy realities like, oh, unfi tness for duty 
  or how the hell they were gonna get out of this. 
  She went through the motions, anyway, detailing her concerns 
  and then fi gured, hell with it, go for broke. Said, “Hey, you in 
  there?”
  She was hoping for an explosion. What she got was this 
  sense of speaking Swahili to a wheezy noteputer. She 
  could practically hear the gluey cogs going click-click-
  click in Mathers’ brain ... 
  “Hey!” She snapped her fi ngers under his nose. “Wake 
  the hell up, we got trouble!”
  Well, that did something. Mathers’s eyes ticked to her 
  face and held, held, held ... and then it was like—Gwen 
  searched for a metaphor—like sudden light fi ring darkened 
  windows: Look, dear, the lights are on, there’s somebody 
  home.
  “Trouble?” Mathers said, sounding shockingly normal. “Like 
  what, Doc?”  
  She resisted the urge to grab his lapels. “Sir, you’re not getting 
  anywhere with that lady. We’re wasting time here. Now, a third 
  of the company is sick, we got a couple deaths, and I don’t see 
  this fl u letting go anytime soon.”
  “Flu.” He sucked blood from his torn knuckles. “So?”  
  “Sir, I’ve sent you a frigging report just about every other 
  frigging minute. Gallagher and I got almost thirty cases now.”
  “Cases?” Mathers echoed. His eyebrows knit to a frown. “Oh 
  yes. So? It’s the fl u.”
  “Sir,” she said, carefully, enunciating as if speaking to a moron 
  which, come to think of it ... “If you want to fi ght, you need 
  bodies. If your people are sick and can’t fi ght, you’re screwed. Now 
  a lotta troops are sick and the worst ain’t over. I’m short-staff ed, 
  Gallagher and I are run off  our feet, and we’re low on supplies. We 
  didn’t anticipate this.” (To be honest, she’d never anticipated being 
  stuck on the ass-end of nowhere with a lunatic commander, either. Ah, 
  life’s little surprises ...) “Now, we got to hightail it back to the Eleventh, let 
  our people mend and then—”
  “And then the enemy gets away,” Mathers grated, his face now the color of 
  a plum. “Not on your life!”
  Well, some emotion was better than none. But before she could reply, her 
  commlink chirped. “Hudson.”
  “Gwen.” She recognized Niamh Gallagher’s distinctive brogue. “Get your sweet 
  arse back here double-quick, love.”
  Shit. “How bad?”
  “Try worse than you can imagine.” Gwen heard Gallagher shout something 
  and then a gabble of voices before Gallagher came back: “Got to ...” He broke off , 
  coughing.
  “Niamh?”
  “I’m fi ne,” he said, his voice thick. “Get back here pronto.” And then he was gone.
  “I got to go,” she snapped, not really caring if Mathers tossed her in the brig for 
  insubordination. Hell, she could use the rest. “You want to come, great. If not, I hope 
  you and your new lady-friend are real happy together.”
  Okay, so she was insane. But it got Mathers moving. 
  ▲▼▲
  d
  n
  r
  a
  w
  u
  f
  c
  n 
  d
  d
  L
  t
  t
  ’t
  t
  w
  “
  o
  n
  . 
  s
  p
  t
  r,
  e
  c
  s
  o
  g
  “
  A
  o 
  d, 
  nd 
  eal 
  ares,
  w and 
  ught up 
  for duty 
  cerns 
  in
  d 
  dy 
  Like 
  tting
  third 
  t see 
  her 
  w.”
  “Oh 
  ron 
  eed
  Now 
  staff ed, 
  plies. We 
  ted being 
  r, either. Ah,
  e Eleventh, let 
  ce now the color of 
  she could reply, her 
  ogue. “Get your sweet 
  gher shout something 
  “Got to ...” He broke off ,
  And then he was gone.
  tossed her in the brig for 
  come, great. If not, I hope 
  ARTIST: CHRIS MOELLER
  PUBLICATION: FIELD MANUAL: DRACONIS COMBINE
  YEAR: 1996
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  148
  
  V E C T O R
  She did, and her stomach thudded to her toes. The fi eld beneath the scope—
  what should be the orderly architecture of hepatocytes and their supportive 
  matrix of reticular fi bers—was instead a gelatinous cytoplasmic sea of shredded 
  cell membranes, ruptured vacuoles, and degraded chromatin.  
  “Oh boy,” she breathed. “Maybe ... maybe it’s only hemorrhagic necrosis.”
  “Gwendolyn, love, you didn’t get your degree through a correspondence 
  course off  the back of a matchbook.” Grimacing, Niamh rubbed a hand over his 
  chest. “Bloody heartburn ...You and I both know the truth. That’s either apoptosis 
  in that boy’s liver or something so close as to be virtually indistinguishable.”
  “What?” It was Mathers. Blood had splashed his boots and there were rust 
  crescents beneath his nails. But he sounded and looked more ... present. Good. 
  She’d hoped the shock of seeing what was really going down might snap him out 
  of whatever had hold of what passed for his mind. “Apo ... what?”
  “Apoptosis.” She thumbed a control and the image shimmered into a 
  holographic display. “Programmed cell suicide. It’s normal, designed to get rid 
  of damaged or cancerous cells, maintain the right number of cells, even sculpt 
  the way you look. Apoptosis in utero is why you don’t have fused toes; the cells 
  between your toes are programmed to die before you pop out of the womb. The 
  process is sometimes triggered hormonally, or locally, like when there’s some kind 
  of injury and cells rupture. But that,” she jabbed a fi nger at the hologram, “is way 
  not-normal. That’s liver tissue from a kid who died this morning, but I’ll bet that if I 
  looked at the tissue of that girl who just bled out, I’d fi nd the same thing.”
  Mathers’s face was chalky and that gave Gwen a certain grim satisfaction. A 
  dose of reality for what ailed the maniac ... Mathers swallowed. “How ... how does 
  it—”
  “Happen?” Gwen shot a glance at Niamh, who only gave a weary shrug. Niamh 
  looked like he’d been hoverjacked and dragged fi fty klicks. Got to order him to bed; 
  can’t aff ord for either of us to get sick ... She returned her attention to Mathers. “Any 
  number of initiators, I’m afraid.”
  “Like a virus?” Mathers asked, hoarsely. “Like the fl u?”
  “You bet,” said Gwen, unwilling to cut the ass any slack. The guiltier he felt, 
  maybe the better off  they’d be. “What you’re looking at is the end result, what 
  happens when the cell can no longer function. But, regardless of the initiator, 
  the fi rst step of cell suicide is always the same. Either enough or all of the cell’s 
  mitochondria die.”
  “Why?”
  “Because without the energy mitochondria provide, the cell’s machinery no 
  longer works. The membrane eventually swells and the cell bursts.” She fl icked at 
  hand at the hologram. “Giving you this.”
  “A dog’s breakfast.” Niamh gave a wheezy laugh. “That’s not very funny, but you 
  don’t know my dog.”
  “Close enough,” Gwen said.
  “But not all of us are sick,” Mathers said, a tinge of desperation in his voice 
  now. 
  “Yet. Anyway, it’s the fl u.” Niamh hiccupped and fi sted his sternum. “Some of us 
  may have natural immunity.”  
  “You need some rest,” Gwen said.
   ROGUE JAGUAR OUTPOST
  “How many parasites live in you?”
  “Uh ...” The assistant was alarmed. “None. I hope.”
  “Neg.” The Keeper toggled up a holographic image. “What do you see?”
  She wondered if this was a trick. She noted the membrane, nuclear material, a 
  Golgi apparatus ... “A simple eukaryotic cell.” 
  “Good.” He highlighted a smattering of double membrane-enclosed, rod-
  shaped organelles. “And these?”
  Every Clansman knew this. “Mitochondria.”
  “And mitochondria are part and parcel of every cell, quiaff ?” 
  “Aff , mitochondria are required for energy production. Without them, the cell 
  dies.”
  “Correct. Lose enough mitochondria, and fi rst your organs and then you die. 
  But what about the fact that mitochondria possess distinctive DNA?”
  She knew mtDNA was only passed matrilineally and how a Bloodname was 
  traced, and she said as much.
  “Aff , but where did the mtDNA come from? Originally. DNA distinctive from 
  nuclear DNA—how did that happen?”
  “I ... I ...” She was mortifi ed. “I do not know.”
  “Well, let us hypothesize. mtDNA shares many characteristics with bacterial 
  genomes such as proteobacteria, which exist only as endosymbiotes. Rickettsia, 
  for example. So it is no stretch to hypothesize that mitochondria were once 
  parasites, invaders swallowed up by ancient eukaryotic cells where they have 
  remained. A prime example of manus manum lavat: The mitochondria provides 
  energy, and the cell aff ords protection. So, you are born with inherited parasites. 
  Such a pairing has resulted in optimum virulence: the state in which both have 
  achieved their highest degree of fi tness. Upset the balance ...”
  “And they both die, quiaff ?” said the assistant.
  “Correct,” said the Keeper. “But what if a parasite found the perfect, fi nal host?”
  ▲▼▲
  FIRST EDO COMPANY
  Gwen’s uniform was stiff  with dried blood, and for a woman who’d seen a lot 
  of death, she still couldn’t shake the image of that girl: the crimson gush of blood 
  spewing from her mouth; her fl ailing eye-rolling panic as the girl began to drown. 
  Cracking the girl’s chest in thirty seconds, only to fi nd that Gwen was wrist-deep 
  in a bloody lake of macerated lung and shredded aorta. 
  And that’s only fourth one we’ve lost. How many more?
  A hand on her arm. “You still here, love?” 
  “Yes.” Gwen huff ed out a breath. “Show me what you got, Niamh.” 
  “Nothing good, I’m afraid,” he said as she ponied up to the e-scope. Niamh 
  looked as if he hadn’t slept in a century. His skin was paler than his crop of wild, 
  snow-white hair. “Take a look.” 
  ARTIST: CHRIS LAUBENSTEIN
  PUBLICATION: INVADING CLANS
  YEAR: 1994
  ART
  ART
  ART
  ART
  ART
  ARTIST
  IST
  IST
  IST
  IST
  IST C: C: C: CHRI
  HRI
  HRI
  HRI
  HRI
  HRIS L
  S L
  S L
  S L
  S L
  S LAUB
  AUB
  AUB
  AUB
  AUB
  AUBENS
  ENS
  ENS
  ENS
  ENS
  ENSTEI
  TEI
  TEI
  TEI
  TEIN
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  149
  
  V E C T O R
  “I need a bloody retirement home,” Niamh said.
  “How?” Mathers asked.
  “Get me off  this rock,” Niamh said.
  “No,” Mathers said, “how’s the infection spread?”   
  “Dunno,” said Gwen. “Probably airborne.” 
  “Or environmental,” Niamh said. “Maybe even the bloody sand.”
  “Without isolating the source or agent, we can’t know the incubation period,” 
  Gwen said. “Plus, the disease course is variable and involves one or multiple organ 
  systems: respiratory, renal, nervous system. Just depends on which fails fi rst. The 
  only prodromal symptom a hundred percent across the board is the sweats.”
  “Sweats?” Mathers gave a hopeless laugh. “Doc, it’s forty-C.”
  “Yeah, tell me about it. So, Colonel, we need help. Let me call the Eleventh’s CMO 
  and—” But Mathers was already shaking his head. “For God’s sake, why not?”
  Mathers face was stone. “I’ve come too far to give up. This is my one chance 
  to even the score, and that woman is the only one who—” He broke off , his eyes 
  widening, jaw unhinging. “Oh, shit.”
  Of course. Gwen’s shocked gaze jerked to Niamh, whose skin was nearly as 
  translucent as milky glass. It’s the one thing we didn’t think of because she’s been in 
  a cell; only me, Mathers, a few guards have had any contact ... Wait, have any of the 
  guards ...?
  “Could it be?” she asked Niamh. “She’s the carrier?”
  “The time frame squares,” Niamh said—and was it her imagination, or were his 
  lips, suddenly, too pink? “We come here, the Elementals attack ...”
  “With nothing,” Mathers said.
  “Or they let us fi nd them,” Gwen countered. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. 
  They make it hard but not too hard, so we take her alive.” 
  “But she’s not sick,” Mathers objected.
  “She wouldn’t have to be. Like Typhoid Mary, she could be the vector. They had 
  to know we wouldn’t kill her. We’d keep her alive to fi nd the rest of them.”
  “But.” Mathers was ashen. “But ... that’s not ... that’s not how the Jags operate, 
  they’re in your face ...”
  “Unless they’re blasting you from orbit,” Gwen said, bitterly. “You see anyone in 
  Edo?” When Mathers didn’t respond, she pressed: “Colonel, please. Let me get us 
  some help, please.”
  For a brief, hopeful instant, she thought he might agree. But then Mathers’s 
  mouth set.
  “No,” and then he was stalking from the infi rmary. “This is mine to fi nish. I’ll get 
  the information, I’ll make her ...”
  “Colonel!” she shouted at his retreating back. “Damn you to hell, she’s not going 
  to tell you!”
  “Ach, would you pipe down,” and then Niamh’s voice changed: “Oh bloody 
  hell.”
  She had to move fast to break Niamh’s fall. But she couldn’t do anything about 
  all that blood. 
  ▲▼▲
  One look as Mathers pushed out of his quarters and his aide decided he really 
  had business elsewhere. Everyone else avoided eye contact as Mathers made his 
  way across the rock-strewn plateau to the supply Quonset. No guard at the door, 
  either, just a steaming pool of blood-streaked vomit. A dog’s breakfast, Mathers 
  thought—but with absolutely no humor.  
  The woman’s misshapen lips worked in a sardonic spasm that he took to be a 
  grin. “Back for more?” Her words were slurry and she spat out a gobbet of jellied 
  clot. She took in his briefs and cooling vest. “Or have you fi nally decided to fi nish 
  what you have begun?”
  Yes, the jasmine scent was still there. Diff erent organ systems threw in the 
  towel, depending on the individual; that’s what Hudson had said. Standing there, 
  dripping sweat, he thought of that unraveling in his mind, the resurgence of his 
  memories, the old monkey on his back, how real that all was ... 
  Might not have much longer.
  “We’re both going to fi nish this, one way or the other,” he said, leveling the 
  pistol. “Time for a little ride.” 
  ▲▼▲
  ARTIST: LOSTON WALLACE
  PUBLICATION: THE DRAGON ROARS
  YEAR: 1997
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  150
  
  V E C T O R
  That, he thought, was something he hadn’t considered. “Yeah, well, we’ll see,” he 
  said, without taking his eyes from his HUD. He found the jasmine scent more cloying 
  now than pleasant and wondered if, maybe, he might not have enough brain to see 
  this thing through. What if his neurohelmet crapped out? Well, no choice ... “By the 
  way, sorry I had to truss you in that sling, but space is kind of tight. I don’t suppose 
  you’d like a cool drink or anything? We got, oh, couple hours to go.”
  “What do you hope to accomplish, Mathers?”
  “You gonna tell me how your people did it?”
  “No.”
  “Come on, not even as a last request to a dying man? I get it that you’re a carrier 
  and, what, immune? Immune to what?”
  No answer.
  “Okay, be that way. But tell me, what kind of weapon takes out her own kind?”
  A pause. Then: 
  “What do you mean?”
  “Oh, give it a rest. You were never going to fi ght us in that Dasher. They put you 
  in that to protect them. You must be one contagious mother.”
  “Just a mother.” A breathy laugh. “In a manner of speaking.”
  What? “What do you want? You want the ‘Mech? What?”
  “Only to observe, Mathers. Only to watch.”
  It took him a few seconds—but then he got it. 
  ▲▼▲
   She might not get another chance. Pelting out of the infi rmary, Gwen tore 
  across camp, dodging milling troops who seemed to have as much purpose as 
  ants in an overturned hill. The Furies had taken a big bite out of the sun, and 
  molten bolts of the day’s last light fi red the desert bronze. In the distance, she 
  thought she caught a harsh glittery sparkle that must be the Gunslinger: Mathers, 
  marching to whatever fate awaited.
  The infirmary was chaotic, corpsmen scurrying over with bags of saline 
  and packed cells for Niamh. Gwen didn’t have a clue anything was going 
  on until she felt the infirmary’s floor twitch beneath her feet. “What’s that?” 
  she shouted, sweeping clots from Niamh’s mouth with her finger, levering 
  the business end of a laryngoscope over his tongue to visualize a swollen, 
  pulpy epiglottis. “We got to intubate, give me the tube, get me some positive 
  pressure going!” Threading the breathing tube, then flicking her eyes to the 
  scanner as she positioned the tube in Niamh’s trachea and still the ground 
  jerked and hitched ... “Will someone please tell me what’s going on out there? 
  Are we under attack, or—?”
  “No!” Peering through a window, a corpsman gasped, “The Gunslinger! It’s 
  moving!”
  “What?” 
  ▲▼▲
  Although he’d lain in his command couch only a short week ago, Mathers 
  realized that he’d let himself forget this pleasure: the sway of his ‘Mech, the raw 
  power of the Gunslinger’s fusion reactor surging through composite bone and 
  myomer, the muffl  ed thunder of his machine’s passage as it ground rock to dust 
  and made the earth shudder. 
  This is reality, too, the only one that matters now, the only way I can make this right. 
  His eyes fl icked over his HUD, saw the distant teeth of the Furies tear at the 
  darkening sky. The light was fading fast, the day nearly gone, Rockland’s moon 
  only a thumbnail, and he quickly punched up the mag into starlight mode. Not 
  quite time for the thermal scanners; the tracery of arroyos where they’d stumbled 
  on the Elementals was still a good sixty klicks distant.
  From behind: “What do you hope to gain, Mathers?” Her words were spongy, 
  but he understood well enough. “Your people are dead men walking and your 
  Combine will not help them. They will not risk it.”
  ARTIST: NIELSEN & NELSON
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH FOURTH EDITION
  YEAR: 1996
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  151
  
  V E C T O R
  A sudden chirp from his thermal sensors. His gaze clicked to his HUD, and 
  then he felt a sudden surge of triumph: fi ve contacts, swarming over the desert, 
  heading his way.
  “Here come the kids, honey,” he said, and then he reached forward, his fi ngers 
  rattling over his keyboard. To his right, a dynamic schematic of the Gunslinger’s heat 
  sinks and plasma fl ow indicators winked onto the secondary viewing screen. 
  “Mathers?” Suspicion in her voice, and he knew why: He wasn’t targeting or 
  bringing weapons to bear. “What are you doing?” 
  He didn’t reply. Instead, he keyed in a series of commands then waited as the 
  ‘Mech’s computer chewed over the problem, was clearly unhappy with what 
  Mathers wanted and so spit back a warning, the computer-ese equivalent of Man, 
  you got to be shitting me. 
  No, really, he thought, almost amused at the computer’s assumption that, 
  honestly, he couldn’t be serious, and jabbed an override. I meant what I said and I 
  said what I meant.  Sixty seconds ought to be just right. Then, because he wanted 
  her to know exactly what he’d done, he cranked up the volume so high that the 
  shriek of the alarm skewered his eardrums like a stiletto.
  “Mathers!” she shouted over the sudden din. “Mathers, stop!” 
  “Burn in hell,” he said—
  As the computer ticked: sixty, fi fty-nine, fi fty-eight ... 
  ▲▼▲
  When the Gunslinger’s fusion reactor went, the pillar of fi re was so bright the 
  fi ghter pilots had to look away.
  ELEVENTH LEGION OF VEGA
  ROCKLAND, DRACONIS COMBINE
  22 SEPTEMBER 3059
  “Captain, it’s brilliant,” said the doctor as he fi ddled with the resolution. “A 
  genetically-designed parasite that not only specifi cally targets mitochondria but 
  actually lives there until an initiator starts lytic production leading to eventual 
  cellular degradation ...”
  “Well, those were all words,” said the captain, “but what the hell did you just 
  say?”
  “It’s simple. This parasite lives in the mitochondria. But not just anyone’s, only a 
  specifi c maternal line can play host. This makes sense given that it’s Clan-based. I’ll 
  bet they tailored this either to a specifi c Bloodname or, maybe, some crossmix.”
  “Why?”
  “Because the parasite can safely be carried only within that certain line, you 
  follow? For that line, the parasite is normal. Hell, my guess is they need the parasite 
  to survive because the parasite’s DNA is part of their mitochondria and can’t be 
  removed without causing the organelle to disintegrate.”
  “So then, you get infected and ...?”
  “We don’t really understand the trigger mechanism yet, but if the parasite 
  infects someone whose mitochondria are incompatible, the parasite gets a kill 
  order. It then produces proteins that literally snip the host’s mitochondria in two. 
  Do that enough times and the person dies. Very neat, very elegant. Gene-targeted 
  warfare with only your line left standing.” The doctor’s voice got dreamy. “If true ... 
  could get very ugly for the Clans.” 
  “You won’t catch me losing sleep over that.” The captain’s eyes drifted to a 
  square of clear polymer inset in the door of one of sickbay’s isolation rooms. 
  Inside, a nurse in full blood-red hazmat gear tended to her patient: a pretty 
  blonde—doctor from what was left of her uniform—and she might even look 
  like herself someday once they cut away all the bandages and casts. “So, what 
  about her?”
  “Oh, she’ll recover, physically. But the parasite’s part of who she is now. Intriguing 
  when you stop to think about it, but that young lady probably has some Clan in 
  her distant past. It’s the only explanation for why she’s not dead.”
  “But if that’s true, if that parasite’s bound up in her cells,” said the captain, “then 
  how long before we can let Dr. Hudson go?” 
  “Ah, well,” said the doctor, “that’s another story.”
  Bursting into the command Quonset, she blew past Mathers’s startled aide and 
  made a beeline for the comm center. “Wait!” said the aide. “You can’t—”
  She paid no mind, straight-armed the door, banged through as the comm 
  offi  cer half-rose from his seat. “Muh-ma’am,” he said, so white she saw every 
  freckle, “Chu-sa Mathers’ orders are—” 
  “Are about to change,” she said, drawing a bead. Thinking she fi nally had a use 
  for this stupid pistol after all. “Get me the Eleventh. Right. Now.”
  ▲▼▲
  An experiment. 
  This whole thing wasn’t any more complicated than that. They were guinea 
  pigs. No better than cells in a damn beaker, for chrissake. Inoculate, stand back, 
  see what happened. Maybe they wouldn’t all die, but that was no consolation 
  because those who had, their deaths would be ... 
  “Meaningless,” Mathers whispered. Worse than Grace’s death. His people would 
  be only data points. 
  And what had she meant: Just a mother ...
  Keying his transmitter across every band, Mathers activated the Gunslinger’s 
  locator beacon and then punched up the automatic distress.
  “What are you doing?”
  “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know.” Even stripped down, he was swimming in sweat. 
  Switching his vest to max capacity, he gave a delicious shiver as the cooling fl uid 
  leached heat from his burning skin.
  Whatever else she was, this woman was smart. “You’re broadcasting on every 
  band,” she said, slowly. Then: “You’re baiting them. You’re luring them in.”
  “I am. Because I’ve got precious cargo, the only person they hoped would be 
  left standing.” Now he did crane his head around. Oh, she was there all right, and 
  no phantom: cocooned in a sling and helpless as a fl y in a spider’s web—and yet 
  so deadly. “You.”
  ▲▼▲
  Perched on a stool at Niamh’s bedside, Gwen checked her watch. Three hours 
  gone, and still no sign of a DropShip. Her gaze swept over the rows of patients, 
  what corpsmen remained hanging the last of their saline. The infi rmary was fi lled 
  to overfl owing and they’d been forced to erect a second tent, spread out blankets 
  on bare ground and for what? She had virtually nothing to give these men and 
  women, and in a few more hours not even that. 
  What could be taking the Eleventh so long? She’d briefed the CMO on the 
  situation, he knew they had a crisis. They needed to hurry ...
  “Going to get you out of here,” she said to Niamh. He was comatose, but hearing 
  was the last thing to go in coma and the fi rst to return. “Don’t you die on me, or I’ll 
  kick your bloody arse around the frigging—” 
  What was that? She straightened, ears prickling. Was that ... thunder? Heart 
  suddenly thumping in her throat, she slid from her stool, hardly daring to hope 
  and afraid not to ... 
  Outside: full dark now, the sky milky with stars, the moon gone. Elongated 
  rectangles and fans of light scored the sand as Quonset doors were thrown open 
  and tent fl aps jerked back, and she heard the crunch of boots on sand as she and 
  the others still standing turned their upturned faces to the night ...
  “There!” someone shouted. “Coming in from the south!”
  She saw them: two clusters of orange-yellow stars, impossibly bright, moving fast.
  “I don’t understand,” said someone else. “How come—?”
  “Oh my God,” she said as the stars which were not stars suddenly broke apart 
  and then reformed into constellations she recognized. “My God. They’re fi ghters.”
  ▲▼▲
  Mathers saw it happen. He’d reached the arroyos, stepping carefully over 
  gashes and deep rents in the desert’s crust. Even at this distance there was no 
  mistaking those faint telltale needles stinging the earth, the stuttering seams of 
  tracers smearing the southern horizon to a false dawn. Seconds later, the whispery 
  shrieks of the attacking fi ghters rolled on a hot wind, and Mathers was glad he 
  was too far away to hear his people scream. 
  Oh, he understood why. He was soldier enough. But still he thought: No better 
  than the Jags when they killed my Grace ...
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  152
  
  V E C T O R
  ARTIST: BRUCE JENSEN
  PUBLICATION: PRINCE OF HAVOC (NOVEL)
  YEAR: 1998
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  153
  
   
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: CLASSIC BATTLETECH: A GAME OF ARMORED COMBAT
  YEAR: 2002
  YEAR: 2002
  YEAR: 2002
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  154
  
   
  ARTIST: ALEX IGLESIAS
  PUBLICATION: MASTERS & MINIONS: THE STARCORPS DOSSIERS
  YEAR: 2009
  YEAR: 2009
  YEAR: 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  155
  
  F A C E  I N  T H E  V I E W P O R T
  ARTIST: TONY SZCZUDLO
  PUBLICATION: JADE FALCON SOURCEBOOK
  YEAR: 1992
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  156
  
  F A C E  I N  T H E  V I E W P O R T
  MARSHALL
  KERENSKY CLUSTER, CLAN SPACE
  19 OCTOBER 3069
  Screaming from the intense pain, Horse stumbled forward, the smoke from 
  the battle nearly choking him and giving a strange, erratic rhythm to the sounds 
  bursting from his parched throat. Fire radiated from his arm, where a projectile had 
  torn a long jagged gash in his bicep, and where his hand pressed futilely against 
  the middle of the long gash to try to staunch the fl owing blood. More blood from 
  a light forehead wound had seeped down into his eyes, blurring his vision. On this 
  vast battlefi eld there had to be some place, a haven, a shelter, where he could just 
  plop down and rest; either to deal with the wound or close his eyes and let fate 
  stop the screams and drain the remaining life from him. 
  Horrendous, racking coughs exploded in his chest, bending his body at the 
  waist, and making him fall into the lap of a dead Clan Jade Falcon Elemental 
  propped up against a large, purple-tinged rock, clearly a victim of the battle. 
  Scrambling to his feet, Horse stared at his face refl ected in the Elemental suit’s 
  viewport visor, below the elaborate metal jade falcon head.  He was caught short 
  by the pained look on his face. It was the face of a warrior in anguish, even though 
  he had stopped screaming.  Mouth twisted, eyes squeezed nearly shut, hair color 
  distorted by the tones of the battle behind him, where fi reclouds still swirled over 
  the fi eld. Pain might explain the look, yet it was pain he had endured easily in the 
  past. His ravaged body had weakened, he guessed. He calmed his face muscles—
  the expression in the viewport relaxed—and struggled to look more normal, 
  whatever normal was for a grizzled MechWarrior like Horse.
  Below the viewport, the ornately designed marks of camoufl age looked 
  like small shadows dancing across the metal. They were ghostlike, especially 
  combined with the jade falcon eyes, but not as ghostly as the refl ection of his 
  own face. The jade falcon eyes seemed to stare at him in piercing disapproval, as 
  if saying, what are you doing alive, eyas? Why are you still alive? It’s a dishonor to be 
  still alive.  The jade falcon eyes appeared to shift from side to side.  Their glare was 
  frightening and a bit sinister. Horse had a notion this decorative jade falcon could 
  kill him. Big joke. No matter how much he tried, what risks he took, how hard he 
  fought, he could somehow not wind up dead. It was defi nitely shameful to still 
  be on the battlefi eld where he was supposed to die, still breathing, still trying to 
  shake the abnormal feeling that he must fi ght to preserve his life. 
   Horse stood and attempted to stretch away the subsidiary pain so he could 
  concentrate on his arm wound. He would not have received the injury if he 
  hadn’t removed the heavy armor given to him before the battle. It had been 
  too cumbersome. Horse had thought he was still fl eet and agile, even for his 
  advanced age.
  At his feet he saw a severed arm, still in Elemental power armor, a pool of blood 
  lay between it and the suit.  Horse knelt down by the dead warrior.
  Checking his refl ection in the viewport, he saw the face of an ancient warrior. 
  He had forgotten the age in the face, age most clan warriors would be ashamed of. 
  He recalled Commander Joanna cursing her own lines, saying that they displayed 
  her many failures to be killed in battle. She went deeper than that. She said the 
  age in her face merely proclaimed the fact that she had not won a Bloodname in 
  any of her innumerable tries to emerge as the victor in the rounds of combat that 
  qualifi ed a warrior for a Bloodname. She had been in more melees and individual 
  BattleMech clashes than a Cluster of clan warriors, she said, and still she lived. “I 
  curse every breath I take,” she had once said in one of her bitterer moods.
  And somewhere Joanna was still cursing and battling. 
  For Horse the issue was diff erent. Even though he was freeborn, age was a curse 
  for him, too, and he hated seeing it on his face. Beyond the age were the smears of 
  battle on his face, the cuts and dried lines of blood, the bruises discolored by the 
  viewport’s opaque darkness. 
  He stared down at the dead Elemental. If he could get the man out, the armor 
  could be the haven he’d been searching for. But his arm throbbed with pain. 
  Seeing torn cloth in the Elemental uniform, apparently caused by the severing of 
  the arm, Horse tore off  a usable hunk. Using the dexterity gained from operating a 
  BattleMech for years, he managed to wrap the cloth around his upper arm. Some 
  blood seeped out along the edges of the cloth, but at least he had slowed the 
  blood loss. It would not do for long, but if he got inside the armor he would be 
  able to deal with it.
  Now he had to get the dead body out. Overcoming his pain, he pulled at the 
  corpse. At fi rst it wouldn’t budge. Getting his breath under control, he took one 
  more deep breath and tugged at the heavy form, able to move it a bit by using 
  all of his remaining strength. As he recalled, death of its inhabitant stopped the 
  operation of the suit’s systems, but he still had to pry the body free of them. 
  It took a while, but the more he worked at it, the easier it became. Soon he was 
  spreading the warrior as neatly as he could beside his combat outfi t. The dead 
  man’s face looked calm, impassive. In Horse’s mind he tried to see this warrior 
  alive, vital. The man looked a bit like an Elemental Horse had known. What was 
  his name? Selima, that was it. He had been one of the heroes of Tukayyid, making 
  the crossing of a bridge possible through his sheer combat skills. The act had 
  been heroic enough to justify a few lines in The Remembrance, the Clan book that 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  157
  MARSHALL
  World Name:
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  Position in System:
  Time to Jump Point:
  Number of Satellites:
  Surface Gravity:
  Atm. Pressure:
  Equatorial Temperature:
  Surface Water Coverage:
  Recharging Station:
  HPG Class Type (Clan):
  Highest Native Life:
  Population Size (3069):
  Socio-Industrial Levels:
  Marshall’s six continents are not densely populated, but with 
  two of them buried under polar ice and uneven distribution of 
  resources and arable land on the rest, the record six Clans 
  inhabiting this planet are necessarily squeezed into close, 
  fractious quarters. Marshall’s early history is marred by unusual 
  levels of civilian conﬂ ict and slaughters that have since resulted 
  in one of the most pragmatic systems of Trials of Possession in 
  the Clan Homeworlds. Dedicated areas of the world serve as 
  regular dueling grounds, while the civilian castes maintain their 
  letterhead paperwork with easily changed logos.
  r
  l
  C
  s
  i
  b
  u
  o
  a
  o
  u
  e
   
  h
  a
  a
  .
  a
  m
  e
  t
  r
  l
  d
  u
  t
  c
   
  s
  a
  d
  o
  N
  s
  i
  W
  a
  e
  G
  J
  e
  a
  R
  p
  g
  m
  m
  rt
  s
  d
  b
  s
  r
  i
  v
  y
  S
  e
  e
  r
  v
  a
  p
  y
  e
  :
  S
  o
  o
  r
  n
  a
  a
  o
  L
  3
  i
  o
  o
  e
  i
  m
  a
  H
  w
  s
  g
  r
  e
  s
  9
  n
  a
  u
  :
  T
  A
  e
  h
  p
  e
  L
  y
  h
  e
  s
  a
  c
  t
  r
  n
  n
  v
  r
  m
  r
  a
  r
  d
  d
  n
  h
  y
   
  e
  o
  t
  h
  s
  a
  m
  e
  v
  o
  m
  o
  P
  s
  e
  d
  o
  d
  a
  t
  s
  e
  y
  t
  s
  b
  t
  e
  o
  u
  u
  o
  C
  o
  Marshall s six continents are not densely populated, but with
  d
  bl
  l
  d
  th
  t
  th
  d
  i
  Cl
  g
  p
  y
  q
  ,
  regular dueling grounds while the civilian castes maintain their
  evels of civilian conﬂict and slaughters that have since resulted
  Population Size (3069):
  G C ass
  ype (C a )
  Equatorial Temperature:
  Surface Gravity:
  S
  Position in S stem
  World Name:
  FACE IN THE VIEWPORT
  R O B E R T  T H U R S T O N
  
  F A C E  I N  T H E  V I E W P O R T
  bomb, he had climbed onto the ‘Mech and looked through the ‘Mech’s transparent 
  viewport at his enemy. Aidan’s face seemed startled, much like what Horse had 
  recently seen of himself in the Elemental viewport. Horse had swung to the side 
  and quickly attached the bomb. Jumping down, he fi gured he would be giving 
  his trueborn foe a good jolt. But Aidan had quickly countered, 
  scrambling out of the shell, grabbing the 
  satchel bomb and hurling it away. It 
  almost immediately exploded, a small 
  burst of smoke and fl ame that seemed 
  more like a pop than an explosion.
  Horse could not recall the rest 
  of their battle well. He had started 
  rocking the ‘Mech shell, which was 
  light enough to fall, but not before 
  his enemy had leaped on him,  
  slamming him to the ground. Horse 
  had tried to stab Aidan with an illegal 
  weapon, a sort of knife he had fashioned 
  from a piece of waste metal, but the other 
  cadet had won the day. 
  From that point on, Horse had not been able 
  to shake the memory of how he had been so 
  ignominiously defeated by this trueborn upstart. When 
  the two met again, the conditions were so strange that 
  Horse hadn’t really recognized Aidan right away. 
  Aidan, now disgraced in the trueborn ranks, had 
  been posing as a freeborn, a strategy arranged 
  by a training commander who had not 
  wanted to waste his combat talents. Horse 
  eventually saw through the disguise and 
  soon the two were comrades, warriors who 
  trusted each other and who came quickly to 
  aid each other in dozens of ‘Mech combats. 
  Not just ‘Mech combats, but in fi ghts and 
  barroom brawls. 
  Aidan Pryde, restored to his trueborn 
  Bloodnamed status, had been killed 
  while performing an array of heroic 
  deeds at the Tukayyid battle. Warriors 
  were supposed to be praised for dying heroically, and Horse 
  honored him for it, but he also missed the living man. For a moment Aidan’s face 
  took the place of his own in the viewport. No pain in this face, though. There 
  was a half-smile, the only happy look that Aidan ever allowed himself, usually 
  after drinking a few stiff  fusionnaires, the typical drink of a Jade Falcon warrior. 
  Horse and Aidan had shared, it seemed, hundreds of rounds of fusionnaires, but 
  it could not be that much. There had not been that much down time, that much 
  opportunity to indulge. Warriors did not indulge. Somewhere there must be a 
  rule that decreed that. But Aidan and he were not typical warriors. They were 
  fi erce battlers, to be sure, brilliant BattleMech pilots, yes, but for both of them 
  there were quirks of personality that made other warriors wary of them, that 
  set them apart from clan unity. He recalled Aidan staring with a kind of drunken 
  seriousness in his eyes and declaring, 
  “Horse, we might as well both be freeborns. We are—” 
  “For a while we were. You know, your freeborn days—”
  “Do not remind me of that shameful period.” 
  “Right. You know, your shameful period, as you call it, is my life.” 
  “You are drunk.” 
  “I usually am when I say stupid things.” 
  Aidan had looked sad then. Clan warriors tried not to show sadness or regret, 
  but sometimes even they loosened up for a moment, usually under the infl uence 
  of a few fusionnaires. Anyway, Aidan had been right. For all its demeaning status, 
  it was better for Aidan to pretend to be freeborn than not to fulfi ll the need inside 
  himself to fi ght for honor and glory and the clan, a BattleMech under his control. 
  The MedPack was working well now. The HarJel had sealed Horse’s wounds and 
  he needed only for his blood to restore itself, with the help of medicine from the 
  suit, then he would be strong enough to return to battle. 
  combined history with an epic sense of honor and glory. Horse even had a few 
  lines in it. He didn’t remember why. His life had been so many battles, so many 
  acts of combat, so many victories that they’d all blended into one another.
  Even the current altercation. He didn’t remember anyone telling him what it 
  was about. Maybe a genetic materials contest, maybe Clan Jade Falcon and some 
  other Clan settling an argument, maybe an invasion of another part of the Clan 
  Homeworlds.
  They were all one. What, after all, did he even need to know about 
  it? He was now in the last stage of his life as a warrior. As Joanna 
  had indicated that day, warriors disgracefully grown old were 
  used as cannon fodder in battles. A few fi ghters with outmoded, 
  probably ineff ective weapons put on the front lines to draw fi re 
  and delay battles. It was an honorable role but, for a veteran 
  warrior like Horse, a demeaning one. He had not had to do 
  it. He could have been decommissioned 
  and sent back home. But for him that 
  was a bigger disgrace. He had to die 
  in combat. It was important to him.  
  All he needed to do now was 
  get back to the battle and continue 
  slaughtering until he was slaughtered 
  himself. Even the honorable demise had no 
  meaning to him any more. He was no Joanna, 
  maybe because he was freeborn. Anyway, what was the point at 
  this moment? He had to get inside this Elemental armor.  
  Gingerly, feeling pain in a thousand parts of his body, 
  he maneuvered himself into the Elemental combat suit. As 
  he settled into it, he experienced almost immediate relief, 
  even though he knew the suit had not started dispensing its 
  medicines and salves. As soon as he thought that, the medical 
  features of the suit kicked in. The gelatinous substance known 
  as HarJel began to staunch his fl owing blood. The painless 
  massage it seemed to give as it worked was soothing. The 
  suit’s MedPack injected him with proper medicines, and 
  he thought he could feel the healing materials travel 
  through his blood. He could not, of course, but the 
  lessening of pain seemed to give the medicines a 
  movement all their own.
   He closed his eyes, knowing the curative process would be 
  slow. Again, the face in the viewport visor, his own face, appeared in his mind. 
  How many years of existence did that face display? Too many, he knew, but he 
  also knew that he had given up keeping track of their passing years long ago. 
  He had to stretch upward to look out the viewport. Thin tracks of blood had 
  run down the viewport, making the smoke and fi re of the combat outside, with 
  the mysteriously moving ‘Mechs, just shadows that appeared and disappeared 
  in a battle that seemed projected onto a surface, a recording rather than the real 
  ‘Mechs fi ghting their life or death battles.  
  He suddenly recalled that the fi rst time he had seen Aidan Pryde was through 
  a viewport. They both had been cadets then from diff erent basic training units. 
  They had not known each other, which was no surprise, since Aidan was trueborn 
  and Horse freeborn. Horse was in one of those freeborn units that, if it lasted, 
  could qualify its cadets as MechWarriors, though mostly the job of freeborn 
  cadets was to serve as opponents in the MechWarrior training of trueborns. 
  Normally, trueborns and freeborns did not like each other. Trueborns found 
  the method of creating a freeborn, through a male and a female’s coupling, 
  repulsive. Even more grotesque for them was the birth process itself. While 
  most freeborns supported their society, some, while envious of the more elite 
  position trueborns had in the Clan hierarchy, despised the genetic engineering 
  that caused the sometimes uncomfortable social conditions among trueborns 
  and freeborns. 
  In the training exercise where Horse and Aidan had confronted each other, 
  Aidan had been inside a legless ‘Mech shell with most of its equipment removed. 
  Weapons used in the exercise were powered down, as it was too early in their 
  training for either to be trusted with weapons that could kill. Nevertheless Horse, 
  knowing he was just a pawn in the game, had vowed to harm any trueborn 
  serving as his enemy in the mock battle. Armed with a barely-charged satchel 
  his trueborn foe a good j
  scram
  sat
  al
  b
  m
  s
  ha
  we
  from
  cadet had won
  From that p
  to shake the 
  ignominiously de
  the two met agai
  Horse hadn’t
  Aidan, now
  been po
  by a t
  wanted
  eventua
  soon th
  trusted e
  aid eac
  Not ju
  barro
  A
  Blo
  wh
  deed
  were supposed to be p
  s contest, maybe Clan Jade Falcon and some 
  ybe an invasion of another part of the Clan 
  did he even need to know about
  his life as a warrior. As Joanna 
  sgracefully grown old were
  few fi ghters with outmoded, 
  n the front lines to draw fi re 
  able role but, for a veteran
  e. He had not had to do 
  ned
  at 
  e 
  e
  ghtered
  e had no 
  no Joanna, 
  yway, what was the point at 
  his Elemental armor. 
  sand parts of his body,
  emental combat suit. As
   almost immediate relief, 
  not started dispensing its
  hought that, the medical 
  tinous substance known
  ing blood. The painless
  ed was soothing. The
  per medicines, and 
   materials travel
  course, but the 
  he medicines a 
  curative process would be 
  t visor his own face appeared in his mind
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  158
  
  F A C E  I N  T H E  V I E W P O R T
  PUBLICATION: THE BATTLETECH COMPENDIUM
  YEAR: 1990
  He stretched his neck again to look out the viewport. 
  The smoke had thickened. Vague fi gures in silhouette 
  raced by outside. There was such chaos here. That was 
  what battle was, he supposed. Order to chaos to order. 
  BattleMechs entered the battle in some kind of formation, 
  were split apart by attack until the battlefi eld became what 
  was outside now, a free-for-all array of ‘Mechs and warriors 
  grouped into pockets of combat, until the fi ghting was over and 
  order was restored.
  In his early days, Horse had read extensively from actual books 
  kept in what was called a Brian cache, where they were preserved for 
  reasons lost in Clan history. Some of the books had discussed concepts 
  of order and balance as the antidote to the chaos of life. He did not 
  remember much about what he had read, but he knew it aff ected 
  his thinking from time to time. Infected his thinking might be the 
  better phrase. Well, he had to re-enter that chaos soon, restore 
  the order of his own existence. 
  A fi gure emerged from the chaos, as if materializing from 
  the smoke. It was a monster of a man. Tall like an Elemental, 
  but not one. More muscular than Horse. Uglier than the ugliest 
  Jade Falcon warrior. Jauntily carrying a laser rifl e, he ranged 
  from left to right, swirled around suddenly as if threatened, 
  except there was no one there. He was a MechWarrior. He 
  had probably been downed, his ‘Mech destroyed, and he now 
  roamed the battlefi eld looking for a replacement. From an insignia 
  on the man’s uniform, Horse could tell he was the enemy. Horse 
  did not even recognize the symbology of the insignia. What clan 
  did he belong to? He took a couple of steps toward where Horse 
  lay in the Elemental suit. Horse still felt weak. He would have 
  diffi  culty getting out of this hiding place to confront this enemy. 
  Although he raged to scramble out and attack, Horse knew it 
  was not time, and he lay still.  He could almost hear Aidan, 
  brilliant strategist that he was, urging caution. 
  The man disappeared briefl y into the smoke, then 
  reappeared to the right and closer to where Horse lay. Almost 
  strolling, he approached the suit. He came upon the fallen 
  Elemental corpse, so carefully arranged by Horse,  and stared 
  at it. He kicked its side with an expression of ugly pleasure 
  on his face. Horse wanted to squeeze out of the Elemental 
  suit and charge the man, avenge this insult, but caution 
  prevailed again. The warrior’s fi rst kick had been light, but the 
  next was harder. He stepped back as if measuring his next 
  move, then he slammed the side of the corpse with a kick that 
  almost made him fall. Spinning around, somewhat gracefully 
  for a large man, the warrior fi red a quick burst into the dead 
  Elemental’s chest, then spat in the Elemental’s face.
  Furious at the welter of dishonor that he had watched, 
  Horse started to get out of the suit, but weakness overcame 
  him.  He recognized that the medicine from the MedPack had 
  not fi nished its work, and proper strategy called for him to 
  stay still. Reaching down, the enemy picked up the Elemental 
  corpse and, swinging, fl ung it away with contempt. Horse shut 
  his eyes, unable to bear the insults, even though another part of his 
  brain realized that in the heat of battle he might have done the same thing. 
  Not the spitting, though. He had never dishonored the corpse of an enemy in 
  that way. 
  Horse opened his eyes. The monster had come to the suit and was now 
  staring down at it. His head was so large and so broad that his face nearly fi lled 
  the viewport. The fury was still in the face at fi rst, then suddenly he relaxed, his 
  expression changing to curiosity. He probably had no knowledge of the Elemental 
  outfi t. With his face relaxed, Horse realized that the ugliness in it had come from 
  his own imagination. He was no uglier than most warriors, no uglier than Horse 
  ATION: TH
  990
  ort.
  te 
  as 
  er. 
  on,
  what 
  warrior
  over a
  actual 
  prese
  cussed
  f life. 
  ew it a
  ight b
  n, rest
  ng fro
  ementa
  e uglie
  ranged
  tened,
  or. He
  he no
  an ins
  emy. H
  What 
  here H
  ould h
  s enem
  knew
  r Aida
  , the
  Almos
  e fallen
  stared
  easure
  mental
  aution
  ut the
  s next
  ck tha
  cefully
  e dead
  tched,
  came
  k had 
  im to 
  ental 
  e shut
  her pa
  done 
  corpse
  the s
  that hi
  sudde
  nowled
  iness 
  iors, n
  HE BATTLETECH COMPENDIUM
  rs 
  and 
  books 
  erved for 
  d concepts 
  He did not 
  aff ected
  e the
  tore 
  om 
  al,
  st 
  d 
  , 
  e 
  ow 
  signia
  Horse
  clan 
  Horse 
  ave 
  my. 
   it
  n, 
  en 
  st 
  n 
  d 
  e 
  l
  n
  at 
  y 
  d 
  t 
  rt of his 
  the same thing. 
  e of an enemy in 
  suit and was now 
  is face nearly fi lled 
  enly he relaxed, his 
  dge of the Elemental
  in it had come from
  no uglier than Horse
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  159
  
  F A C E  I N  T H E  V I E W P O R T
  childhood, carefully squeezing their legs into trousers and arms into sleeves. The 
  last act he performed was placing some of the pieces of the crushed helmet 
  around the body’s head. The result was not as honorable as Horse might have 
  wished, but at least it would protected from further dishonor. 
  Horse turned away from the dead Elemental and looked straight into the eyes 
  of another warrior. Where had 
  he come from? How could he 
  have come here without Horse 
  hearing him? The concentration 
  on honoring the Elemental must 
  have distracted him. 
  Horse had immediately tensed, 
  then he realized that the tired old 
  face in front of him belonged to 
  another Jade Falcon warrior, an 
  old one like him being used as 
  cannon fodder in the battle.
  “Still alive and kicking, Horse?” 
  the warrior asked. 
  “You know me?”
  “Everyone knows you, old man. 
  You have inspired us.”
  “I doubt that.”
  “You are in The Remembrance; 
  you will not fi nd my name there.”
  “And what is your name?”
  “Does not matter.”
  “Freeborn?”
  “Trueborn. But, again, that 
  does not matter now. We are 
  both just shadows in this battle.”
  “Shadows?”
  “You do not know the term?”
  “No. Apparently I have missed 
  it.”
  “No matter. Just warrior lingo 
  for those of us planted in front 
  of the battle. We are shadows to 
  shoot at, something like that.”
  Horse took a step toward 
  the warrior without a name. 
  Something weak in his legs made 
  him stagger a step.
  “You are hurt.”
  “A bit. I will be all right.”
  “That is one thing we may count on, Horse. Rest a bit. You have plenty of time 
  to rejoin the battle. It is a long one.” 
  “What is this battle all about?” 
  The man shrugged. 
  “I do not know. But I must return to it now. And you will soon.” 
  The man turned and ran away, into the smoke. Disappeared. Around him large 
  shadows suggested BattleMechs in action; smaller shadows suggested, well, 
  shadows as the Jade Falcon warrior had called them. 
  For a long while, Horse sat on the rock the dead Elemental had originally 
  been propped up against. Finally he became disgusted at his inactivity and no 
  longer gave a damn about the state of his strength. He stood, and of course 
  he was strong. He felt better now than he had at the start of this godforsaken 
  battle. 
  Dampness on his face reminded him of the gash there. Touching it, he could 
  tell it was not a mortal wound. The blood on his face would serve to make him 
  appear more frightening to the enemy. He smeared some of it on his forehead, 
  around his neck. 
  A voice behind him shouted: “Jade Falcon trashborn!” 
  Turning quickly, he saw a group of the enemy standing beyond the rock. 
  Counting quickly, he saw four warriors there, all with weapons, all striding 
  menacingly toward him. Good, he thought. Just the odds I need right now.  
  himself. The look had come from the intensity of battle. Horse recalled some book 
  from the Brian cache that had been about war, about one battle after another. 
  For some reason he recalled the rage of one of the warriors in the story, a hero 
  who had revenged the death of his friend, sought out his killer on the battlefi eld, 
  defeated him, then virtually destroyed the corpse in subsequent events Horse 
  could not now recall. 
  Now his own enemy stared 
  down at the Elemental, seemed 
  actually to stare down at Horse. 
  Horse held his body still, angry 
  at himself for his caution. Well, 
  doses of caution had got him 
  this far, and in a few moments 
  the medicine would have worked 
  and he would be able to return 
  to combat. Horse had always 
  fought for the big moment, the 
  killing moment.  He would not 
  have made so many kills, done 
  so much other damage, because 
  of any but the most calculated 
  recklessness. Aidan had taught 
  him that. “Choose your moment, 
  Horse,” he had said, and Horse 
  seemed to hear his voice telling 
  him that now.
  The face in the viewport came 
  closer, as if trying to peer inside. 
  Seeing nothing of interest, he 
  pulled himself to his full height. 
  From Horse’s perspective, he 
  looked like a tall building, his head 
  reaching into clouds, although 
  there were no clouds, only the 
  smoke of battle. Then he raised 
  his leg high. His boot looked like 
  a ‘Mech foot coming down, large 
  and broad. Horse could not help 
  but slide downward in the suit as 
  the foot came crashing into the 
  already well-damaged helmet. 
  The sound of impact was like a 
  bomb striking followed by the 
  sheer cracking of metal.
  Something struck Horse’s cheek. From 
  the pain it caused, he could tell the wound was deep, and there was no more 
  MedPack, no more HarJel to staunch or cure it.
  Reacting as the warrior he was, Horse wriggled out of the suit and sprang up, 
  ready to fi ght the monster. No weapons, still physically weak, blood streaming 
  from the gash on his face, but ready to kill. But the enemy, the monster as he 
  had come to think of the man, had already turned and was running back to the 
  smoke. He had not stayed to examine the damage, had not discovered Horse in 
  the wreckage, had unintentionally denied Horse his revenge. 
  Horse relaxed. There was no point in chasing the man now. Even out of the 
  Elemental suit, the MedPack medicines were returning his strength to him. He 
  would fi nd the man somewhere in the battle, and kill him, and after killing him, 
  spit on his corpse. 
  But now, now he had to plan his next moves. He had to fi nd a weapon 
  somewhere. First, though, he had to fi nd the body of the fallen Elemental the 
  monster had fl ung away. A few feet away, the corpse lay in a tangled heap, its legs 
  twisted under his body, its head lolling unnaturally, the neck apparently broken 
  by the enemy’s abuse.
  Lugging the body to the Elemental suit, he straightened it out, swept the 
  dirt off , and treating the corpse delicately, managed to get it back inside his 
  suit as best as he could. It took a while, and Horse frequently thought of the 
  way mothers had dressed children back in the village where he spent his early 
  ARTIST: JOHN PAUL LONA
  PUBLICATION: WOLF CLAN SOURCEBOOK
  YEAR: 1991
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  160
  
  F A C E  I N  T H E  V I E W P O R T
  battle. As he looked down at the leader, he saw a faint pulse at the man’s throat. 
  He was still alive. Horse could kill him. Instead, he muttered, “trashborn,” and 
  walked away. 
  As he strode away from the battle scene, he took one more look at the fallen 
  Elemental, satisfi ed that he had performed the best funerary ritual possible for 
  him, and headed toward the battle. Even though his role on this planet, in this 
  battle, might be as cannon fodder, he had a purpose of his own. He would fi nd 
  the monster who had so dishonored the Elemental’s body and kill him or be 
  killed. No, he would kill him. Shoot a dozen bursts into his body and spit upon 
  his corpse.  
  He felt he would survive this battle, survive to become cannon fodder in another 
  place. Eventually he would die, but not now. After disposing of so many enemies, 
  here and in the past, he felt he might never die. As he disappeared into the drifting 
  smoke, became a shadow himself, he cursed his own survival, but not too hard.
  Afterward, Horse could not have told anyone how he beat those odds. The 
  leader who had called him trashborn was easy, since he was not ready for Horse’s 
  sudden run directly at him. With that one downed, and using a laser pistol he had 
  seized from the fallen warrior’s grasp, he had killed two of the others while their 
  own bursts went astray. The last one was a knife-wielder who used the wrong 
  moves and fell to a chop in the throat, which Horse followed up by stabbing the 
  foe in the neck with his own knife since he’d lost his pistol. 
  It all happened so fast that, when Horse surveyed the scene, he could barely 
  remember how he had done it, how he had killed them all or why he had taken 
  so many risks. It was just war, and a minor battle in this one at that. It blended in 
  immediately with all his previous battles, whether hand to hand or in BattleMech 
  combat.  
  For a moment he felt like a MechWarrior again. Beside him was the ghostly presence 
  of Aidan Pryde. Ahead of him was the victory. 
  Collecting the weapons from the four attackers, he felt ready to return to the 
  ARTIST: JIM NELSON
  PUBLICATION: TECHNICAL READOUT: 3050
  YEAR: 1990
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  161
  
   
  ARTIST: LES DORSCHEID
  PUBLICATION: THE BLACK THORNS
  YEAR: 1994
  YEAR: 1994
  YEAR: 1994
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  162
  
   
  ARTIST: DOUG ANDERSEN
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH COMPENDIUM
  YEAR: 1994
  YEAR: 1994
  YEAR: 1994
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  163
  
   
  ARTIST: ALEX IGLESIAS
  PUBLICATION: MASTERS & MINIONS: THE STARCORPS DOSSIERS
  YEAR: 2009
  YEAR: 2009
  YEAR: 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  164
  
   
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: HANDBOOK: HOUSE MARIK
  YEAR: 2005
  YEAR: 2005
  YEAR: 2005
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  165
  
  M E A N S  T O  A N  E N D
  ARTIST: CHRIS MOELLER
  PUBLICATION: INNER SPHERE
  YEAR: 2000
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  166
  
  M E A N S  T O  A N  E N D
  THARKAD
  LYRAN ALLIANCE
  27 OCTOBER 3061
  The Tharkan spring was unusually cold. 
  At the fringe of the suburbs, where the capital’s army of sweepers, plows, 
  and salters rarely reached, snow, packed down into deep blue ice, made every 
  step a hazard. He had chosen to wear nubs. A band of small, blunted spikes that 
  fastened over the toe of each oiled leather boot. Simple. Common. Easy to slip off  
  at a doorway, to pocket for later need. 
  Evening was long settled, and very few people walked the streets. Those who did 
  had an extra bounce in their step, a smile for their neighbors. Too early for holiday 
  spirits; he knew the reason. Yes, he did. The Archon‘s propaganda machine was 
  making the most out of the defeat of Clan Smoke Jaguar, the supposed guarantee 
  of peace, and the imminent return of all Inner Sphere great nations to Tharkad to 
  elect a new First Lord. Propped up by the State, the mood was infectious. 
  Still, he found it a struggle to return a smile, a greeting. He was nobody at the 
  moment. Not a neighbor or a fellow citizen. Certainly not a patriot. Just a piece of 
  random violence fl oating along the capital’s streets. Looking for a place to alight.
  Finding it, at the next alleyway.
  Timing would be critical. Then again, wasn’t it always? Timing was so often 
  the fulcrum between success and failure. Timing could force a man to take 
  shortcuts. Shortcuts that led to mistakes. Mistakes he could not—would not!—
  allow. Never again.
  But a calculated risk, now and again, was acceptable. All a part of the game. 
  A means to an end.
  On this third night, walking the same path down suburban streets and across 
  patches of blue ice, he passed his mark at the mouth of a deserted alley—the 
  location he had chosen a week before. Head bowed. Sleeves of his wool coat 
  pinned into his pockets and fi lled with a light foam. The very image of a non-
  threatening person and a mirrored refl ection of his target, who had also wrapped 
  a thick scarf around the lower half of his face this evening. A face he knew well. 
  A face he had studied. Modeled. Could wear with enough confi dence to fool his 
  mother, if it became necessary. Though, of course, it wouldn’t.
  No warning. No hint of a challenge. He waited until his victim glanced his way 
  and nodded with the same air of geniality infecting all Tharkad, gaze quickly 
  sliding back to the treacherous walk. 
  Grinding the nubs on his right boot down into the ice, he pivoted hard. His 
  arms, held in tight against his chest along the entire walk, now pistoned out 
  through special-cut slits in his wool coat. A spark of high voltage crackled out 
  from the simple stunner. His victim managed nothing stronger than a pain-fi lled 
  gasp as he bull-rushed the other man into the darkened alley, throwing him down 
  amid frozen garbage and grime-stained snow.
  A taste of ozone burned the air. The stunner’s charge had not been lethal, but 
  leverage and a quick, cracking twist solved that. It was the work of a moment to 
  pat the man down, securing personal eff ects that went into his coat’s extra-deep 
  pockets, including a thick wallet containing his victim’s entire life in the form of 
  holographic identifi cation, secure-chipped cards, and a credit stick made of thin, 
  unbreakable crystal. 
  And now he was someone.
  Grasping his victim’s coat at the back of the neck, he dragged the body deeper 
  into the alley where he had prepared for this moment. He used a wide stance and 
  short strides, letting the nubs on his boots bite in at each careful step.
  Tharkad City’s winter-clad streets could be treacherous.
  ▲▼▲
  Despite protests from TharHes Industries’ security force, the Diplomatic Guard 
  had waved everyone through the usual checkpoint and set up its own security 
  station near the site of the day’s photo shoot. One velvet rope line to hold back 
  the press pool, who would be allowed to observe and record from a distance. 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  167
  THARKAD
  World Name
  Star Type (Recharge Time)
  Position in System
  Time to Jump Point
  Number of Satellites
  Surface Gravity
  Atmosphere Pressure
  Surface Water Coverage
  Equatorial Temperature
  Highest Native Life
  Recharging Station
  HPG Class Type
  Population Size (3061)
  Socio-Industrial Levels
  Tharkad, capital of the Lyran Alliance, is a frosty world. With 
  only a narrow tropical band and most of the rest of the world 
  dusted in snow through the world’s long winters, Tharkad has 
  always made life hard on its people. However, soon after the 
  world’s discovery in 2310, huge deposits of gemstones and 
  radioactive materials were found. This drove Tharkad’s settlement 
  and made it a gateway to the Protectorate of Donegal. When 
  the Draconis Combine threatened the Lyran capital of Arcturus 
  in the Age of War, Archon Alistair Marsden selected centrally-
  located Tharkad to be Arcturus’s successor. Today, Tharkad is 
  a cosmopolitan world, a crossroads of trade and politics for the 
  entire Lyran realm, and its people are friendly, despite the arctic 
  chill in the air.
  Archon Alistair Marsden’s 2407 selection of Tharkad as the 
  new Lyran capital paid off time and again. Its location (and stout 
  defenses) usually spared Tharkad from direct combat, even 
  in the savagery of the early Succession Wars. This allowed 
  Tharkad to be a ﬁ nancial, industrial, and technological heart of 
  the Lyran Commonwealth, as well as its capital. The planet is 
  more than a hive of government bureaucracy, though Tharkad 
  City on the Bremen continent does epitomize a House capital 
  city. Huge Tharkan cities are also found on the continents of 
  Franz, Grolsch, and Heidelberg, where Tharkad’s industrial 
  muscles reside. Domestic tourism sends tens of millions to the 
  tropical Tatyana archipelago annually (belying the world’s arctic 
  reputation).
  c
  i
  e
  s
  t
  e
  D
  m
  o
  d
  y
  e
  a
  a
  o
  u
  h
  e
  a
  a
  o
  a
  m
  e
  t
  l
  H
  n
  e
  r
  p
  T
  o
  e
  v
  m
   
  r
  d
  u
  o
  s
  n
  N
  a
  W
  e
  G
  o
  J
  i
  e
  a
  A
  p
  t
  e
  n
  a
  C
  a
  a
  v
  w
  w 
  a
  i
  z
  p
  t
  v
  m
  e
  P
  i
  a
  p
  y
  e
  R
  p
  M
  ,
  o
  o
  r,
  b
  t
  a
  h
  r
  p
  e
  3
  o
  e
  r
  o
  s
  t
  n
  m
  r
  A
  o
  s
  d
  a
  c
  t
  y
  e
  3
  h
  h
  r
  a
  T
  D
  m
  s
  p
  o
  t
  a
  t
  o
  ,
  t
  e
  d
  y
  0
  ’
  t
  e
  P
  g
  e
  r
  d
  A
  g
  s
  e
  o
  M
  e
  s
  e
  e
  s
  n
  t
  a
  s
  d
  r
  a
  v
  i
  o
  f
  i
  o
  o
  a
  s
  c
  o
  a
  o
  e
  t
  f
  h
  p
  p
  a
  c
  a
  o
  d
  m
  o
  t 
  y
  a
  a
  c
  h
  c
  A
  a
  e
  o
  a
  r
  r
  s
  s
  r
  r
  a
  r
  u
  W
  m
  w
  W
  only a narrow tropical band and most of the rest of the world 
  always made life hard on its people
  However soon after the
  a
  y
  g
  p
  g
  ocated Tharkad to be Arcturus s successor Today Tharkad is
  and made it a gateway to the Protectorate of Donegal When
  a
  i
  h
  i
  d
  ld
  f
  l
  d
  L
  chill in the air.
  c
  L
  it l
  id
  ff ti
  d
  i
  It
  l
  ti
  (
  d
  t
  t
  Socio Industrial Levels
  S
  HPG Class Type
  E
  t
  i l T
  t
  Atmosphere Pressure
  A
  Ti
  t
  J
  P i t
  T
  Star Type (Recharge Time)
  S
  THARKAD
  T
  MEANS TO AN END
  L O R E N  L .  C O L E M A N
  
  M E A N S  T O  A N  E N D
  at his waist, despite Daniel Torrent’s repeated 
  demands that the Chu-i “try a new look.” It was 
  at times like those that Kasawa’s language skills 
  deteriorated suddenly, bowing sharply to the 
  artist with a muttered “Wakarimasen.”
  No. Harding did not think it would be 
  Rachel. But if it was, it would not stop him from 
  completing his work. Such aff airs never did. 
  In fact, of those assembled, Harding was so 
  far discounting only two. The fi rst was Lady 
  Juliana Carsters, who stepped up after Kasawa 
  and waited with enormous indiff erence to the 
  entire procedure as Harding checked her ID and 
  performed a random DNA spot-check against 
  the badge’s verigraphed code. Lady Juliana 
  was a credentialed Member of Parliament for 
  House Marik, with enough bona fi des to satisfy 
  all but the deepest paranoia. More, the woman 
  was SAFE—a deep-cover operative for the 
  Free Worlds League intelligence service. The 
  electronic fi les delivered to Harding’s noteputer 
  had been extensive, documenting twenty-plus 
  years of state visits and “diplomatic exchanges.” 
  And she almost certainly knew that they knew. The two extra guards assigned to 
  the MP were obviously part of the Intelligence Corps’ counter-espionage force. 
  So unless Lady Juliana had yet another secret life...and was on a suicide mission...
  no, it wasn’t her.
  Probably.
  And beyond suspicion was the man who brought up the rear. Dressed today 
  in the voluminous, formal robes of a ComStar Precentor, he had pressed them 
  to military standards with precise creases and not one wrinkle to embarrass his 
  organization. His one good eye stared with piercing clarity, missing little and 
  revealing absolutely nothing.
  Agent Harding had no doubt whatsoever that Precentor Martial Anastasius 
  Focht was a man used to discovering, and keeping, secrets. But in this case, he 
  was easily vindicated.
  After all, Focht would hardly have been hired for his own assassination.
  Focht stared after Lady Juliana a moment, then swung his gaze back to the 
  man in charge of the Diplomatic Guard’s contingent. “All quiet on the front lines, 
  Agent Harding?”
  “I expect Diem Tvetska to fi le a new complaint. Chu-i Kasawa wore his dress 
  uniform again. Mr. Torrent is bound to be unhappy. Sir.”
  “I have the feeling Mr. Torrent lives his life in a perpetual state of unhappiness,” 
  Focht said. “Much the same way as Diplomatic Guards live their lives in a perpetual 
  state of wariness.”
  “It gets me through the day,” he said, borrowing Rachel’s line from earlier. “You 
  might say it gets you through the day as well. I’ll precede you through the door, 
  and you will not stray further than fi ve meters from my side.”
  “Generous, today.” Focht stared sidelong at the agent. “People will think we’ve 
  been fi ghting.”
  Focht was personally overseeing several of the Star League public relations 
  pieces, Harding knew. But like a bull after a red fl ag, he’d not missed one of Torrent’s 
  events since Harding had instituted stronger security. As his profi le suggested, 
  Focht was a man who preferred to meet all challenges head-on. Which was fi ne 
  with the Harding. The Precentor Martial could dance all he wanted, so long as it 
  was the agent still calling the tune.
  “You realize I’ve spoken with the Lyran Intelligence Corps,” Focht said, persistant 
  as ever.
  “Yes, sir?”
  “They commend your service record, and assure me that there is no specifi ed 
  threat against anyone here to justify heightened security measures.”
  True. The LIC would not exactly be able to report a specifi ed threat, would 
  they? 
  “However, they also reminded me that such decisions are left to the agent in 
  charge. So, in this situation, it seems you are able to do pretty much as you will, 
  yes?”
  Another to guide the subjects of Daniel Torrent’s 
  NEXT GREAT WORK from the ad hoc makeup 
  station, through the vestibule, to the hall’s only 
  unguarded, open door. 
  Field Agent Harrison Harding stepped in 
  front of that door, physically blocking Khamen 
  Tvetska from passing through at a hurried pace, 
  forcing some distance in between the Capellan 
  Diem and Defi ance Industries’ Milton Rathburn 
  who had been fi rst in line today. Security 
  protocol demanded that he take a minimum of 
  twenty seconds to carefully scrutinize Tvetska’s 
  verigraphed badge. There was also something 
  to be said for ensuring that the Diem did not 
  further harass Rathburn, who had the ear of 
  Archon Katrina Steiner and was not afraid to 
  use it. 
  Mostly, though, Harding simply did not like 
  Capellans. And that was reason enough.
  Tvetska had blunt features and a wide, 
  disapproving mouth, far more Slavic than Asian. 
  Only his robes, with the high, sloped collar and 
  the House Liao crest on his breast, made him 
  look at all a part of the Confederation. Still, Harding privately thought of him as 
  the “squinty-eyed Capellan bastard.” Training in the Intelligence Corps reinforced 
  many casual stereotypes. And in this small group of assembled nationalities he 
  had them all. 
  “I assume my identifi cation is adequate yet again, Agent Harding.” 
  Tvetska wore his look of patient suff erance like an offi  cer would wear a 
  commendation. Proudly. Openly. With the haughty air of a man used to bearing 
  up under such trivialities. A political appointee with oversight over the backwater 
  world of Turin, one would think Tvetska took daily lunch with Chancellor Liao. Yet 
  here he was, assigned to a photo-op troupe being shuttled around Tharkad, one 
  of a dozen “special projects” helping to create promotional material for the new 
  Star League.
  “Yes,” Harding said, returning the Diem’s badge. His eyes searching. Always 
  alert. “Adequate.”
  Tvetska bobbed his head in a stiff  nod, stuck his chin a bit higher into the air, 
  and stepped past Harding without another word.
  “You enjoy that far too much,” Rachel Barr said as she replaced Tvetska at the 
  agent’s station. Her admonishment died with the devilish grin that turned up the 
  corners of her wide mouth, and she said it loud enough that her words would 
  chase down Tvetska and twist the knife one last time. Davions and Capellans. Cats 
  and dogs. 
  “Do you think so?” Harding asked. He held up her badge, but spent more time 
  examining her than the ident. She was worth looking at. A senior technician with 
  the Syrtis Fusiliers, Rachel had fi erce, blue eyes and unruly hair that his fi ngers 
  itched to run through again. She wore her work uniform today. Tight-fi tting 
  coveralls, a loose khaki overshirt—worn open—with House Davion’s sword-and-
  sunburst crest emblazoned over her right breast, and a tool belt.
  “Capellan-baiting is a time-honored tradition back home. We just don’t get to 
  practice it as much these days. Pity.” 
  “That seems a very cynical attitude.”
  “Cynicism gets me through the day, Agent Harding.” She tossed her hair back 
  playfully. “What gets you through yours?” 
  “Suspicion.”
  “To each his own, I guess.” Her voice dropped to a private whisper. “Tonight?” 
  she asked.
  He returned her badge with a fl ourish and a nod. Though technically against 
  regs, many would consider his whirlwind relationship with Rachel a rare perquisite 
  of the job. The winks and raised eyebrows he’d seen from his fellow agents said 
  that they agreed.  
  As she moved on, Harding wondered if Rachel was the reason he was here. 
  He doubted it. More likely it was Tvetska. Or Chu-i Kasawa Cho, who followed 
  after Rachel. The Combine MechWarrior remained in full dress uniform, with 
  gold braid draped over his left shoulder and the House Kurita dragon buckled 
  f
  f
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  168
  
  M E A N S  T O  A N  E N D
  “No, no, no,” Torrent yelled, interrupting the conversation. “Mr. Kasawa! This is 
  why I asked you to try another uniform. I can not have you overshadowing Mr. 
  Rathburn when we are posing at the foot of the Lyran military-industrial 
  complex.” He moved about with fl amboyant, exaggerated strides. “Yes, 
  I know. Wakarimasen. I think you wakari just fi ne. Step to your left, 
  please. Your other left. That way! And turn away from Mr. Rathburn as 
  if you do not like him. A bit of a glower. This shouldn’t be a stretch. It is 
  that look you wear all the time. Perfect!” 
  More false-shutter clicking. Dozens of digital, 
  tri-dimensional stills being loaded into the 
  camera’s memory.
  “I’m not sentimental,” Focht said. 
  “Sentiment 
  comes 
  with 
  too 
  high a price, and don’t get 
  me started on the cost 
  of personal insight. I 
  am, however, a fan of 
  irony. Wouldn’t it be 
  ironic, Agent Harding, 
  if there was a danger 
  to my person and yet 
  I was unable to aid in my 
  own defense due to security concerns?”
  He considered that. Rated it. “I believe that would 
  qualify as irony. Sir.” A pause. “Of course, I’d rate it as 
  bitter irony if your interference, through a misguided 
  desire to control those same security concerns, is 
  what ultimately compromised your safety.”
  “Hrm. Indeed. And if my interference ran toward 
  insisting the Com Guard take over all security on this 
  project?”
  “Now that would approach delicious irony.” Harding 
  tried to imagine that. A cordon of Com Guard servicemen 
  surrounding this public relations zoo. Raising hackles 
  with the national representatives. With any local 
  security force. Demanding to check Harding and 
  the Diplomatic Corps detail in and out of every 
  location! “I have to warn you, Precentor Martial. 
  I will not allow that to happen.”
  “Still, you are wondering if I’ll put it to the 
  test.” 
  It wasn’t really a question. Still, Harding 
  nodded. Once. Decisively. Concerned that 
  he had overplayed his hand. Doubt was not a 
  common caller. Neither was overconfi dence. But 
  both had been known to visit him in the past. 
  “I am not unsympathetic to your concerns, Agent 
  Harding. Especially as they are for my own health.” 
  Focht had apparently read the agent’s silence as pique. 
  “I am also aware of the historical pressures at work here. 
  The Diplomatic Guard would not have been in charge 
  of main security that day, but you must have had agents on site. Maybe 
  friends...”
  That day. 19 June 3055. And by on site Focht referred to the Frederick 
  Steiner Memorial Library banquet. A barely-signifi cant event for a 
  hardly-remembered war hero. It also happened to be the day and place 
  where Archon Melissa Steiner-Davion had been assassinated by one of the most 
  elegant plots ever perpetrated. An intrigue which Lyran intelligence agencies 
  would be studying for decades—if not for centuries—to come.
  “We’re going to move now,” Torrent called out, his camera never once pausing. 
  “Ms. Barr to the top platform and Mr. Tvetska one level down. Now everyone but
  Ms. Barr turn slightly to my left. Adequate.” More shuffl  ing. More clicking. “A bit 
  more now. And more.”
  Having let the silence hang between them for long enough, Harding said, “I 
  appreciate that you have some grasp of the situation, Precentor Martial.” It seemed 
  the safest comment to make.
  Harding stared fl atly at the Precentor Martial. “That’s why I smile so much. Sir.”
  Focht stared. Sighed. Gestured toward the door. “Very well. After you, Agent 
  Harding.”
  “Yes.”
  ▲▼▲
  The secret pride of TharHes Industries was their Hall of 
  Honor. A grand room built to BattleMech scale. 
  Framed by massive redwood timbers stained 
  to a near-golden hue, the room smelled of 
  raw wood and cold metal. The fl oor was of 
  black granite, polished so deep that 
  Harding felt as if he was walking over 
  a depthless, dark pool. His refl ection 
  was mirror-perfect but stained to a 
  shade of burnt coff ee.
  And, standing at attention in silent, 
  ominous rows on either side of the hall, 
  were ‘Mechs. 
  Wolfhound. Atlas. Barghest. Zeus. Falconer. 
  BattleMaster. Archer. Crusader. Hatchetman. A 
  dozen more, gleaming in perfection as showpieces of 
  every BattleMech designed by TharHes Industries or 
  with TharHes Industries’ parts. One of the corporation’s 
  greatest secrets was how they had managed to move 
  so many large machines inside without so much as a 
  scuff  in the fl oor’s perfection. Another was why they had 
  opened up the magnifi cent gallery, long considered a 
  private treasure, to Torrent’s very public display. 
  To bring Focht out into the open? Harding had to wonder.
  “Let us go. Let us go.” Daniel Torrent walked through the 
  group, holding up a large tri-d camera. He pressed a button 
  and an electronically reproduced shutter-click warned that 
  the artist was now working. “And how is everybody today? 
  Mr. Kasawa, as intractable as ever. We will use the Fafnir. Let 
  us go.” 
  He kept the button depressed, shutter-clicking 
  through several shots of each of his subjects. Torrent 
  also took several seconds of Harding, other agents 
  of the Diplomatic Guard, and several of his own staff  
  who were making last-minute makeup adjustments 
  or assembling a small, multi-level stage at the foot of 
  the giant, one hundred-ton BattleMech.
  Harding stepped in between Torrent and Focht, 
  watching the artist’s hands carefully. A glare and a slight 
  shake of his head discouraged Torrent from making it an 
  issue. Torrent gave him back a frosty smile, layered with 
  sarcastic cheer.
  Another complaint to be fi led with the Diplomatic Offi  ce.
  “Places!” Torrent shouted, letting a touch of his pique show 
  through. “I want Mr. Tvetska on the highest platform. Yes, enjoy 
  it while it lasts. Because it will not. Ms. Barr...did I ask you to take 
  that position. No, I did not. One step further down, if you please.” It 
  would be a morning of false bonhomie and terse looks. Everything 
  the group had come to expect from the popular photo-artist.
  “What if I had wanted my picture to be taken?” Focht asked, stepping up against 
  Harding’s right shoulder, crowding the agent’s gun arm. 
  Harding steeled himself against a physical reaction. Focht was testing him. 
  Pushing for whatever intelligence could be gleaned from the agent’s mannerisms. 
  Looking for an advantage. Always the warrior. 
  “Did you?” he asked. He felt Focht shrug.
  “A nice eight-by-ten for the offi  ce wall would not be totally out of the 
  question.”
  “You will pardon my saying so, Precentor Martial. You do not seem the 
  sentimental type.”
  tion. “M
  you ov
  Lyran 
  xagge
  fi ne. 
  ay from
  ouldn
  king. D
  being 
  ntimen
  nt 
  co
  h a pri
  me sta
  of pe
  am, h
  irony
  ironi
  if the
  to my
  was un
  conce
  it. “I b
  “Of co
  ce, thro
  me sec
   your s
  nterfer
  ver al
  deliciou
  f Com G
  ns zoo
  atives. 
  to ch
  etail in
  n you, 
  happen
  ering i
  questio
  sively. 
  hand. 
  as ove
  him in
  o your
  re for 
  agent’s
  l press
  not hav
  ad age
  fl atly at the Prec
  ghed. Gestured
  ▲▼▲
  e of TharHes In
  oom built to Ba
  ve redwood tim
  hue, the room
  old metal. The fl
  olished so de
  he was walking
  pool. His refl ec
  ct but stained 
  ff ee.
  at attention in 
   either side of t
  as. Barghest. Zeu
  her. Crusader. Ha
  aming in perfec
   designed by T
  ustries’ parts. On
  was how they h
  achines inside w
  perfection. Ano
  magnifi cent gal
  o Torrent’s very p
  out into the ope
  us go.” Daniel 
  p a large tri-d ca
  cally reproduced
  w working. “And
  ractable as ever.
  utton depresse
  hots of each of his
  seconds of Hard
  Guard, and seve
  g last-minute ma
  mall, multi-level 
  ndred-ton Battle
  ed in between 
  t’s hands carefu
  discouraged To
  ve him back a f
  aint to be fi led w
  t shouted, lettin
  Mr. Tvetska on th
  ecause it will no
  “No, no, no,” Torrent yelled, interrupting the conversat
  why I asked you to try another uniform. I can not have 
  Rathburn when we are posing at the foot of the 
  complex.” He moved about with fl amboyant, ex
  I know. Wakarimasen. I think you wakari just 
  i
  please. Your other left. That way! And turn awa
  if you do not like him. A bit of a glower. This sh
  that look you wear all the time. Perfect!” 
  More false-shutter click
  tri-dimensional stills b
  camera’s memory.
  “I’m not sen
  “Sentimen
  high
  m
  t
  I w
  own defense due to security c
  He considered that. Rated 
  qualify as irony. Sir.” A pause. 
  bitter irony if your interferenc
  r
  desire to control those sam
  what ultimately compromi
  m sed
  “Hrm. Indeed. And if my in
  insisting th
  t e Com Guard take ov
  project?”
  “Now that would approach d
  tried to imagine that. A cordon of
  surrounding this public relation
  with the national representa
  security force. Demanding 
  the Diplomatic Corps de
  location! “I have to warn
  I will not allow that to h
  “Still, you are wonde
  test.” 
  It wasn’t really a q
  nodded. Once. Decis
  he had overplayed his h
  common caller. Neither wa
  both had been known to visit h
  “I am not unsympathetic to
  Harding. Especially as they a
  Focht had apparently read the a
  “I am also aware of the historica
  The Diplomatic Guard would n
  of main security that day, but you must have ha
  friends...”
  centor Martial. “That’s why I smile so much. Sir.”
  d toward the door. “Very well. After you, Agent
  dustries was their Hall of 
  attleMech scale. 
  mbers stained 
  m smelled of 
  fl oor was of 
  ep that
   over
  ction 
  to a 
  silent, 
  the hall,
  us. Falconer. 
  atchetman. A 
  ction as showpieces of 
  TharHes Industries or
  ne of the corporation’s
  had managed to move 
  without so much as a 
  other was why they had 
  lery, long considered a 
  public display. 
  en? Harding had to wonder.
  Torrent walked through the
  amera. He pressed a button 
  d shutter-click warned that
  k
   how is everybody today? 
   We will use the Fafnir. Let 
  d, shutter-clickik ng
  s subjects. Torrent
  ding, other agents
  eral of his own staff  
  akeup adjustments 
  stage at the foot of 
  eMech.
  Torrent and Focht,
  ully. A glare and a slight 
  orrent from making it an
  frosty smile, layered with 
  with the Diplomatic Offi  ce.
  g a touch of his pique show
  he highest platform. Yes, enjoy 
  ott. . Ms. Barr...did I ask you to take
  ARTIST: STEVE VENTERS
  PUBLICATION: MECHWARRIOR: THE 
  BATTLETECH ROLE PLAYING GAME
  YEAR: 1986
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  169
  
  M E A N S  T O  A N  E N D
  “Or interference in an ongoing investigation.”
  “True enough, I suppose. If there was an actual investigation in progress. To 
  which, I assume, you are still not admitting.”
  “No.”
  “Then, as an intellectual exercise only, let me say this. I think it’s Lady Juliana 
  Carsters.”
  “Have something against House Marik?” Harding asked.
  “Since the general impression is that I am the one in danger, the proper 
  question would seem to be, does House Marik have something against me? They 
  have strong ties to Word of Blake, there has been considerable national resistance 
  to the Star League within the Free Worlds League, and Lady Juliana is, as well you 
  know, a trained SAFE operative.”
  “Who has been assigned only to diplomatic events,” Harding said, falling into an 
  immediate rebuttal before he recognized the trap laid for him by Focht. 
  He had been half-listening to Torrent berate Diem Tvetska for having too shiny a 
  bald head, comparing it to a DropPort landing beacon, watching the movements 
  of each of Torrent’s aides, and wondering how many windows and hangar doors 
  had a line of sight onto this rooftop. Trying to second-guess an assassin was a kind 
  of mental juggling. You had to keep so many thoughts in the air at once, it was 
  easy to let one slip.
  It wasn’t hard to read Focht’s self-satisfi ed bearing. But that could tell Harding 
  things, as well. He rolled the paper coff ee cup between his hands, stealing its 
  warmth, chasing down a line of thought. Then, “Our records which you have 
  accessed so far would not have given you Lady Juliana’s identity as a SAFE operative. 
  ComStar’s records told you that. Or suggested it. Which means you would already 
  have suspected. You requested her as part of this event because of who she is.” He 
  sipped his coff ee. “You are looking to trade intelligence with SAFE.”
  “And you are being wasted in the Diplomatic Guards, Agent Harding.” Focht 
  smiled, shook his head, admitting nothing. “A very keen analysis. Although I 
  would not be so quick to write Lady Juliana off  as a suspect in...shall we call it a 
  ‘non-diplomatic exchange.’”
  “Why is that?”
  Focht stared through Juliana Carsters and off  into the distance. “Do you 
  understand the discipline it takes to maintain such a cover, Agent Harding? 
  Day after day. Year after year. It takes a level of belief of which most people are 
  incapable. A woman who can believe in herself that deeply is a dangerous person. 
  Capable of great—or terrible—things.”
  Harding stiff ened, unable to help himself as Focht dug around in dangerous 
  grounds. But then he saw the change steal over the Precentor Martial. A tightness 
  around his one good eye. The thin set of his lips. Focht had slipped away for a 
  moment. A lesser observer might have missed it altogether, or dismissed it.
  He was not a lesser observer.
  “You might see such belief in a woman and assume she is capable of anything,” 
  the agent said, choosing his words very carefully. “I think she is capable of the one 
  thing she does so well that it reinforces her belief that the end justifi es the means. 
  Stepping outside of such a carefully defi ned role would be...chaotic.”
  Considering that for a moment, Focht gave a reluctant nod. “Then on whom 
  would you focus your attentions?”
  “In a textbook case? One of the aides. Always in motion, and no one looks 
  twice at them once you become accustomed to their presence. Especially with a 
  distraction like Daniel Torrent always near.” Even as he said it, one of Torrent’s aides 
  bustled by with a screen, adjusting the lighting eff ect. “Less than six feet away. 
  Impossible to stop if they are willing to trade their life for yours.”
  “Since you’ve already thought it out, I assume it will not be one of the aides,” 
  Focht said. 
  “Not this time.”
  “In that case, let me say this. I think it’s Rachel Barr.”
  He smiled. It was tight-lipped and never came close to reaching his eyes. “And if 
  I were to explain how Rachel promotes too much chaos around her, showing none 
  of the discipline necessary for such work, you would then go on to claim that it 
  is Diem Tvetska, who is so highly placed in the Chancellor’s favor that he is stuck 
  on Turin. After that, Mr. Rathburn or maybe Chu-i Kasawa. Mr. Torrent. Or even 
  myself.” He sipped his coff ee, letting it warm his throat. “Perhaps it is fortunate 
  that Mr. Torrent slighted the St. Ives Compact and Rasalhague Republic by not 
  including their representatives. It reduced your suspect pool by a solid twenty 
  percent.”
  He felt Focht lean in closer. “Despite my age, Agent Harding, I am neither senile 
  nor cantankerous. Yet. You have a job to do. It would be foolish for me to interfere 
  without warrant. Realize, however, that I also do not like being ‘handled.’ You 
  might discuss that with your superiors.”
  A tactical retreat and immediate fl anking maneuver. Focht was not fi nished 
  with his meddling, but at least it seemed—for the moment—that he would 
  continue to work within the system. And that was fi ne with Harding. Because this 
  time around, the system was working for him.
  “Ms. Barr, you are moving!” Torrent stamped a foot. “I want you to remain full-
  front, since you, at least, have a front to full. You should be turning away from the 
  common aspect, as if you know better than everyone else. Try to think Capellan 
  March and you’ll do fi ne.”
  Rachel’s glare spoke volumes, very little of it complimentary. Torrent’s camera 
  responded with electronic indiff erence. When she looked his way, Harding 
  shrugged, resigned to fi elding new complaints and not willing to let it get in the 
  way of his mission. Nothing would. Not Torrent, Rachel, or Focht himself. 
  “Cantankerous,” he said, choosing to ignore the rest of the Precentor Martial’s 
  comments.
  “It means crotchety,” Focht said. “Grouchy or ill-tempered.”
  “But a much more erudite choice of language. You are, at least, well-spoken. For 
  a grumpy old martial, that is.”
  “We’re not through with this yet, Agent Harding.” Was there a hint of a smile in 
  his voice?
  There was none in Harding’s. 
  “No, Precentor Martial,” he said. “I did not think we were.”
  ▲▼▲
  The DropPort outside of Tharkad City looked into white-blanketed mountains 
  on the one side, opened up onto wind-scoured plains to the west. DropShips 
  hunkered down across several dozen square kilometers of ferrocrete, separated 
  by thick bunkers, wide, low-built buildings for the storage and maintenance 
  of ground-support machines, and three auxiliary terminals dedicated solely to 
  smaller shuttlecraft. The sky was a cold, impersonal blue. The sun a distant, cool 
  globe falling toward the horizon. 
  Their fourth setting in as many days, and Harrison Harding was beginning to 
  question Torrent’s motives. True, the artist did choose strong—even evocative—
  settings. But how much contrariness had there been in demanding access to the 
  DropPort, and then shutting down all traffi  c for ninety minutes while his staff  and 
  the unfortunate subjects of the propaganda piece tried to catch the sun setting 
  behind the DropShip d’Artagnan?
  Not to mention the icy wind that sliced across the black, tarred rooftop on 
  which the artist had placed everyone.
  “Can we get this guide-wire removed?” Torrent was complaining. Again. He was 
  the only one dressed for the exposed location, muffl  ed up in a heavy coat and a 
  fur bomber’s hat. “If I trip over it one more time, I will call it a day and we can all 
  come back up here and start fresh tomorrow!”
  Focht pulled his robes tight around his frame. “Since that wire is helping to 
  support a communications tower,” he said to Harding, sotto voice, “I don’t think 
  Torrent should remove it.”
  Warming his hands around a paper cup of coff ee, Harding watched Torrent 
  rearrange his subjects across three levels of platforms: Rachel and Rathburn now 
  at the top, Diem Tvetska off -center in the middle, Kasawa and Lady Carsters at the 
  base. Behind them, half a kilometer away, an Overlord-class DropShip had been 
  repainted to display the House Davion sword-and-sunburst logo. Large fl oodlights 
  brightened up the vessel’s side, to compete with the setting sun’s backlighting. 
  Similarly, Torrent had aides moving around a series of refl ective screens to throw 
  natural light back into the faces of the fi ve nationalities represented.
  “I’ve already posted an agent at the eyehook,” he fi nally said. “The wire stays.” 
  “Some people just enjoy shouting into the wind.”
  Harding allowed himself one small sip of his bitter drink, then turned a steady 
  gaze to the Precentor Martial. “So I’ve noticed.”
  Focht’s bearing never wavered. He stood military-erect and his voice contained 
  not one ounce of apology. “If you are referring to the demands my staff  has been 
  making for intelligence briefi ngs, consider it nothing more than professional 
  oversight.”
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  170
  
  M E A N S  T O  A N  E N D
  League Conference. Three of the national representatives were required to attend 
  daily sessions, with only Rachel Barr and Kasawa Cho exempt from political duties. 
  A stone-faced ramp had been erected in front of a giant, projected, green-screen 
  wall. The backdrop—really a holographic fi eld set against an array of luminescent 
  glass panes—was a marvel of tri-dimensional video technology. Blurring a 
  traditional green-screen eff ects wall into a fi eld with depth and varying degrees 
  of clarity, any tri-dimensional setting could be seamlessly added in later. 
  When explained to them, Rachel Barr had been the one to ask, “Why didn’t we 
  just come here on the fi rst day, then, and be fi nished?”
  Torrent had frozen stiff  in the middle of a wild gesticulation, his left arm held 
  out at full length, seemingly forgotten. “Do you see me dressing up in greasy 
  coveralls and tell you how to best lube your joints?”
  Hand on her hips, Rachel stared daggers at the artist, who raised his camera 
  and burned a dozen quick stills. “Perfect. Now hold that pose and try not to ruin 
  it by talking again.” 
  While Rachel seethed, Torrent placed Kasawa at the highest level, then 
  Diem Tvetska. Rathburn and Lady Juliana were set one step below the Davion 
  technician. He left Rachel standing slightly apart from the others. 
   Anastasius Focht, standing at the studio’s only working monitor, waved 
  Harding over to his side. The Precentor Martial remained in formal robes today, 
  hood pulled up so that his face was cloaked in shadow. On the Tri-Vid monitor 
  was a sample of what the fi nal shot might look like: Five national representatives 
  arrayed at the foot of a thirteen-meter-tall Atlas. Distant in the background, shot 
  through a dusky haze, was a famous Terran landmark—one of few to survive the 
  ages and mankind’s proclivity for war. The next-best thing to moving the entire 
  event to Terra itself.
  “Let’s say I believe you,” Focht said by way of preamble. He did not look up from 
  the monitor. “That there is someone out there who is able and willing to strike at 
  myself or ComStar, and with resources enough to hire a professional assassin.”
  A game of hypotheticals. Interesting. Now that the agent had admitted the 
  existence of a threat, the Precentor Martial was giving him room to maneuver. 
  Likely in the hopes of discovering more for himself. All right. Harding knew how 
  to play along. 
  “It may not be so personal as you are thinking,” he said. “Someone who wants to 
  pull a black cloth over this conference. Disrupt your Star League.”
  “It’s your Star League, too,” Focht pointed out.
  “More yours than mine, though.” At least until Archon Katrina Steiner managed 
  to get herself elected First Lord, which everyone was talking about it as if it had 
  already happened. Even the agents who were part of Harding’s detail. “But, sure.”
  “So,” Focht tried again, “let’s say I believe you.”
  “All right. And then let’s prove you do by not showing up where you are not 
  wanted.” Harding shook his head. It was certainly of no surprise to him that there 
  were people able and willing to target the Inner’s Sphere’s greatest leaders. More 
  amazing, perhaps, was that so few succeeded. “I could almost believe, Precentor 
  Martial Focht, that you are trying to get yourself killed.”
  “I was killed. Once. An eye-opening experience, but not one I am anxious to 
  repeat.”
  “All right, then.” 
  Harding let his attention wander back to the room. Watching as Torrent 
  weaved about the stage, burning dozens—hundreds—of pictures to his camera’s 
  memory. The artist gestured expansively, using his hand motions and his sharp 
  tongue to turn his subjects this way and that. One particularly wild sweep nearly 
  backhanded one of Harding’s agents, who ducked at the last second. They were 
  all used to Torrent’s theatrics by now.
  “But you aren’t really trying to save my life, are you?” Focht asked.
  He heard the question, of course, but wondered briefl y if it had registered 
  correctly. The Precentor Martial was calling him out on his professionalism? 
  Had Harding betrayed some thought, or given the Precentor Martial any reason 
  to question his purpose? It was one more reminder that Focht was not to be 
  underestimated. At any time.
  Outfl anked for one of the few times he could remember, Harding could only 
  say, “Excuse me?” Even so, he knew he’d given something away by the long pause, 
  his suddenly stiff  movement.
  “Agent Harding, you’ve had every opportunity to ban me from these shoots. You 
  could have turned over your source to the Diplomatic Corps. You might even have 
  gone outside channels and requested intelligence from the Com Guard, through 
  “They are not being slighted,” Focht said. “They are being included in other 
  public relations pieces. Though Mr. Torrent did argue for their exclusion on the 
  grounds of ‘historical symmetry.’ As for the parade of suspects... Yes. That was part 
  of my cunning plan. Though I did fi nd it fascinating that you referred to everyone 
  except Ms. Barr by their last names.”
  So much for the smile. Harding felt it slip away.
  “Precentor Martial, perhaps it is time to leave this propaganda event, and Lady 
  Juliana if necessary, in the hands of others.”
  “And perhaps I’d consider it, Agent Harding, if you would explain to me why 
  you feel so strongly that I am in danger. Especially when your superiors and fellow 
  agents do not seem to share your level of urgency.”
  “They will not be the ones held responsible.”
  Focht folded his arms across his chest. “Not good enough.”
  “Verdammt!” Torrent yelled, stumbling back over the guide wire, sitting 
  down roughly on the tarred roof. With another shout, he threw his camera at 
  the nearby communications tower, shattering it against one of the steel legs. 
  “That is it! We are through for today. If the Archon does not care enough to 
  allow me a decent working environment, then I will not care that Lady Carsters 
  stands in a permanent slouch or Diem Tvetska is unable to keep his rat-shifty 
  eyes off Ms. Barr’s push-up bra.” He kept on in a steady rant, detailing the 
  many transgressions and shortcomings of his subjects, while his aides began 
  to quickly strike the set. One swept up the pieces left of Torrent’s camera, 
  presumably to rescue the data chip.
  Harding pulled Focht to one side as the fi ve representatives bustled past. “I 
  have a source,” he said, his voice pitched low, but not too low. “A source I’ve done 
  business with in the past. I can’t give that source to you, or to the Diplomatic 
  Corps. All I’ll tell you is that word reached me through an agent on Solaris VII.”
  If Focht recognized the signifi cance of the world, he did not display it, and 
  Harding was barely paying attention to the Precentor Martial regardless. He 
  was busy studying the national reps with his peripheral vision.  Did Kasawa Cho 
  startle? Had he overheard? And was Rachel’s backward glance anything other 
  than a fl irtatious invite to follow after her? He didn’t believe it was either of them, 
  but life had taught him to take nothing for granted. 
  Fate, he knew, had a twisted sense of humor.
  “So,” Focht asked, “you have a source on Solaris VII who told you someone was 
  off ering a contract on my life?”
  That wasn’t exactly what he had said, and if that had been the case, then 
  Harding would have been working this a whole other way. 
  “No, Precentor Martial.” He was trusting that his read on Anastasius Focht had 
  been correct. His task was about to get a little easier, or a lot harder. That was the 
  way things like this worked.
  Shaking his head, he sipped his coff ee one last time before turning to face 
  Focht squarely.
  “That someone had already accepted it.”
  ▲▼▲
  “Places!” Torrent shouted, his camera already whirring through hundreds of 
  stills as the photo artist captured candid shots of his aides setting up, subjects 
  jostling for their assigned positions, and agents of the Diplomatic Corps pressing 
  in close. 
  Harrison Harding watched it all unfold, feeling the pressure as time slipped 
  away from him. Like a terrible itch at the back of his mind. Anastasius Focht had 
  shown up again, unworried, apparently, about tempting fate. And the morning’s 
  security briefs, delivered to the agent’s private noteputer, had left Harding very 
  unsettled, his instincts screaming at him. 
  Soon, he knew. If it was going to happen, it had to be soon.
  Today’s shoot was taking place on a sound stage borrowed from Starbright 
  Films. Everyone’s voice had a tinny cast to it, thrown back by hard surfaces and 
  harsh angles. The lighting level was only a few steps above dim. Set decoration 
  was sparse. Only a pair of cast-off  director’s chairs, a life-sized, stuff ed camel 
  that someone had decorated with a pair of sunglasses and a half-smoked 
  cigarette, and framed movie posters crowding the back wall advertising the 
  Immortal Warrior series, averaging over fi fteen explosions per one-sheet. He 
  had counted.
   The studio shoot was already running two hours late because of the Star 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  171
  
  M E A N S  T O  A N  E N D
  It had been well planned. Harding gave the man that.
  Then he squeezed into his own shot, and double-tapped a pair of slugs into 
  his target’s centerline. Blood spatter stained the shoulder of Diem Tvetska’s high-
  collared robes, and Torrent’s body fell backward from the ramp, disappearing into 
  the holographic projection. 
   “Lock it down!” Harding yelled, leaping forward. He raced up the ramp, holding 
  his gun in a two-handed control grip. “Nobody leaves.”
  Diem Tvetska cowered off  to one side, using a towel plucked from the inside 
  of one sleeve to wipe some small spatter from the back of his neck. Chu-i Kasawa 
  and Rachel Barr, no strangers to combat, held the top of the platform—but now 
  that it was all over, there wasn’t anything left to do but appear ready. He stepped 
  in between them, looked down. 
  A pair of legs lay on the fl oor below, disappearing at mid-thigh into the 
  holographic fi eld. 
  The adrenaline surge and the gunfi re had left his ears ringing. He shook his 
  head, trying to clear it. “Keep anyone else back,” the agent told them.
  Doubtful that they could, but Rachel could be very persuasive. She might slow 
  someone down. She nodded. And Kasawa Cho gave Harding a partial bow. “Hai. 
  This we can do.”
  Jumping down to the fl oor, Harding saw the Westerfeld nine-mil laying nearby. 
  He kicked it aside, far from reach, then stepped into the fi eld. From the other side, 
  the green-cast haze disappeared. There was only a spread of nine mirrors, varied 
  depths and positions, with an empty hole in the exact center. 
  Here was the getaway. Harding read Torrent’s entire plan with a practiced 
  eye. Assume the real Daniel Torrent’s identity. Spend a few days acclimatizing 
  the Diplomatic Guard detail to semi-erratic behavior and wild gestures. Then, 
  in the most controlled environment possible—the sound stage—use that edge 
  to take out ComStar’s Precentor Martial. A quick leap into the holographic fi eld, 
  and he would be immediately lost to observers on the far side. There was a small 
  trap door nearby, blocked partially open, which would lead to whatever waiting 
  vehicle the agents would later fi nd. 
  “Not a bad plan at all,” he whispered, kneeling at the assassin’s side.
  The man wasn’t gone, but it wouldn’t be much longer. He clutched both 
  hands across the wounds in his sternum. Blood spread between his fi ngers and 
  dribbled from the sides of his mouth. His eyes were beyond the pain, glazing 
  over into shock. 
  “You...waited,” the assassin said. “Already...suspected.”
  “Had to be sure,” Harding admitted. 
  Bright red foam covered the man’s lips. “Set...me...
  up. Didn’t care...about Focht. Why?”
  “Why?”
  “What you said. More value...than...his life.”
  Harding nodded. He checked that Kasawa and 
  Rachel still held the upper ramp.
  Then he leaned down next to the assassin’s 
  ear. And told him.
  ▲▼▲
  Two agents knelt at either side of Anastasius 
  Focht. Harrison Harding relieved them, 
  returning his handgun back to its shoulder 
  holster. He would be ordered to surrender the 
  weapon eventually, when and if an “incident” 
  agent took control of the scene. Until then, it 
  stayed with him.
  “Don’t try to sit up for awhile,” he suggested, 
  dropping to one knee.
  Ashen-faced, his gaze vacant from a likely 
  concussion, Focht grimaced against the pain. 
  Squinted, and saw who was now kneeling over 
  him. “Did we get him?” 
  me, on your suspect. Playing your cards so close to the vest, risking another high-
  profi le assassination on Tharkad? It leads me toward one conclusion.”
  Forcing himself to relax, keeping an eye on the rest of the room, Harding let one 
  hand slip closer to his jacket’s open front. His mouth tasted bitter with adrenaline. 
  “And that is?”
  “That you may be protecting something of more value to you than my life.” 
  Focht said it as if it were the least important fact in the world. “So were I to fi ght 
  you, I’d lose.”
  It was a well-founded piece of reasoning. Strongly presented. Passionately 
  argued. So: “Yes,” Harding admitted with a shrug. 
  So much for hypotheticals.
  “You admit it?” His one, good eye widened, gaze spearing out from beneath 
  the heavy cowl. Whatever Focht had expected, it hadn’t been a straight answer. 
  It threw the Precentor Martial off  his game for a moment, which Harding had 
  needed to recover from anypossible gaff e.
  It also gave him the opening for which he’d been searching.
  “Precentor Martial Focht.” He allowed his voice to rise several notches, overriding 
  the other man’s surprise. “I have gone to great lengths to ensure the security of 
  this event and safeguard your life. Sir. Why should you expect anything less of 
  the Diplomatic Guards? And if you feel overburdened with our security measures 
  now, that is nothing compared to the restrictions I expect to be handed down 
  tomorrow.”
  He had an attentive audience. Torrent’s camera never stopped, but it was clear 
  from the body posture of everyone on the ramp, and those watching the shoot 
  from the sidelines, that they were hanging on Harding’s every word.
  “Why should tomorrow be any diff erent?” Focht asked. It was the only question 
  Harding had left for him in the conversation.
  “Because my security report this morning highlighted a discovered body. Great 
  pains had been taken to erase its identity, so only a DNA match will be possible. At 
  a time when the Lyran Alliance is hosting the greatest leaders of the Inner Sphere 
  on one planet, and especially within a single city? The security implications are 
  too great to ignore.”
  Silence, broken only by the soft shutter-clicks of the camera. Torrent moved up 
  on the ramp, still burning off  picture after picture, moving his subjects to 
  one side or another with curt, economical gestures. 
  Focht had recovered now. Stepping in toward Harding. Turning his 
  head so that only the agent could look him in the eye. Could hear him. 
  “I realized that two days ago,” the Precentor Martial said. 
  “And yet here I am. Placing myself completely in your 
  hands. So what does that make me?”
  Motion, off  to one side. Subtle, but a sign to anyone 
  schooled for what to watch.
  “Bait,” Harding said, drawing the gun from his 
  shoulder holster in a smooth, lazy motion.
  The un-silenced report fi lled the sound stage with a 
  crashing noise. The fi rst bullet caught Precentor Martial 
  Focht in the side of the head, knocking him over, throwing 
  him roughly to the ground. It was followed by a quick pair 
  of thunderclaps as two more bullets hammered into the 
  fallen body.
  And Harding had his gun thrust out at full 
  extension.
  Aiming back at the assassin on the ramp.
  No one but Harding had paid attention to the 
  eccentric photo-artist, or noticed the diff erence 
  when normally fl amboyant gestures gave 
  way to sharp, focused movement as the man 
  mounted the ramp. No yelling or complaint 
  at Harding’s outburst. A man with a mission. 
  To reach the top level, where he could reach 
  into the green-screen projection. A reminder 
  that it wasn’t a wall, but a holographic veil backed by 
  strategic mirrors and optics, where the man pretending 
  to be Daniel Torrent had hidden the Westerfeld nine 
  millimeter—perhaps days ago—in his preparations to kill 
  Anastasius Focht. 
  The man wasn’t gone, but it wouldn’t be 
  hands across the wounds in his sternum. Bloo
  outh. His eye
  ck.
  waited,” the a
  to be sure,” 
  ht red foam
  idn’t care...a
  Why?”
  What you sa
  Harding nod
  chel still hel
  Then he lea
  r. And told h
  Two agen
  Focht. Ha
  returning h
  holster. He w
  weapon eve
  agent took 
  stayed with
  “Don’t try
  dropping to
  Ashen-fac
  oncussion, F
  uinted, and
  we get him?
  shutter-clicks of the camera. Torrent moved up 
  ture after picture, moving his subjects to
  nomical gest
  pping in tow
  look him in th
  he Precentor 
  elf complete
  e?”
  but a sign to 
  the gun fro
  motion.
  e sound stag
  ught Precento
  cking him ove
  followed by a
  ets hammere
  hrust out at
  the ramp.
  tention to the
  he diff erence 
  stures gave
  as the man
  r complaint 
  h a mission. 
  could reach
  . A reminde
  raphic veil ba
  re the man p
  n the Weste
  n his prepara
  dribbled from the sides of his mo
  over into sho
  “You...w
  “Had 
  Brig
  up. Di
  “W
  “W
  H
  Rac
  T
  ea
  d
  co
  Sq
  him. “Did w
  ures.
  ward Harding. Turning his 
  he eye. Could hear him. 
  Martial said. 
  ly in your 
  anyone 
  om his 
  ge with a
  or Martial 
  er, throwing 
  a quick pair 
  ed into the 
  t full 
  e 
  r 
  acked by
  retending 
  erfeld nine
  tions to kill 
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH FOURTH EDITION
  YEAR: 1996
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  172
  
  M E A N S  T O  A N  E N D
  which nobles or offi  cers might slip. No need to be wary of frozen garbage in the 
  alleyways, or footing in a short, violent struggle.
  Still, Tharkad’s streets could be treacherous.
  The early evening was clear and crisp, with silver-bright stars but no moon 
  staring down on Tharkad’s royal palaces. The air tasted of old snow and fresh 
  holly—decorations that adorned every lamp pole, every wall and gate. His 
  breath was even, coming out in regular puff s of frost. His eyes never held still 
  as his gaze shifted from the street, to the rooftops, to a nearby wall, 
  and back to the street. He walked steadily, coming up on two 
  guards at a postern gate to the royal palaces. 
  APPROACH SLOWLY, BE PREPARED TO SHOW IDENTIFICATION. 
  The sign was posted very clearly.
  So close to the Archon’s private residence, such warnings 
  were for more than convenience’s sake. Especially to a man 
  who was not a neighbor or a fellow citizen. Certainly not a 
  patriot. But neither was he that piece of random violence 
  he’d been when he’d fi rst arrived, fl oating casually along. 
  For the rest of his time on Tharkad, and especially for 
  what he was about to do, he could not aff ord to be simply 
  nobody. 
  A calculated risk, now and again, was acceptable. All a 
  part of the game.
  He understood the risk he took in coming here. 
  Three days he had waited, always aware of his surroundings, 
  to see what kind of response might work its way through 
  channels—offi  cial or otherwise. The silence spoke volumes. 
  No word on the body that had been discovered. No big 
  investigation into the assassination attempt. Just a short ad 
  taken out in the personal classifi eds, which read: 
  KK- HEARD YOU ARE IN TOWN.
  CAN’T WAIT TO MEET AGAIN.
  It was a message reminiscent of the one that had found him a few 
  months back, working its way through his system of agents and cut-outs. A 
  message addressed simply to “Karl,” which spoke of being “gravely concerned” 
  that he was coming out of retirement to take care of his aging grandfather, 
  Anastasius. And that assistance “could be arranged.” It had been signed, simply, 
  “Melissa.”
  A warning, and an inquiry. It had been the work of only a few days to confi rm 
  that an assassin—claiming to be the very one who had killed Melissa Steiner-
  Davion, no less!—was gunning for Anastasius Focht. Strange, then, that no 
  offi  cial word had leaked down through the Lyran intelligence networks. 
  Or perhaps not, if the person sending along the warning cared less for the life 
  of the Precentor Martial than she did for tempting someone out of retirement.
  “Why?” he had been asked. What had he valued so much?
  “Protecting my own reputation,” he’d whispered into the man’s ear. And a 
  man’s reputation was more than just bragging rights. It was, in many vocations, 
  a means to an end.
  As he drew near the gate, the guards came to some semblance of attention. 
  He had no staff  badge, and was not recognized by either. One of them stepped 
  aside, out of arm’s reach—a wise precaution. The other beamed a fl ash into his 
  face. “State your business,” the guard with the fl ash ordered. 
  The gun, the identifi cation, the personality—all were gone. All he had left 
  was a name. For now.
  “Harrison Harding, here to see the Archon,” he said.
  “I believe I am expected.”
  Harding nodded. “Shooter’s down.”
  “Head ringing like bells,” he said. The words came slowly, put together into 
  careful sentences. “May have to lodge a formal complaint. You were...a little slow 
  on the draw. Agent Harding.”
  “And your robes are reinforced with a ballistic weave, Precentor Martial.” Still, 
  the bullet that had slammed against the side of his head must have kicked him 
  like a horse. “What happened to ‘putting yourself completely in my hands?’”
  “I am trusting. I am not an idiot.”
  That drew a tight-lipped smile from the agent. “Fair enough. 
  I’m relieved to see you had enough survival sense to protect 
  yourself. I might have suggested something like that myself, 
  if...” If. If he hadn’t been more concerned with getting the 
  assassin than he’d been about protecting Focht?
  “If,” Focht agreed, understanding perfectly.
  “You are going to be fi ne. I’d even say you were due 
  some fanfare, putting your own welfare second to the 
  Star League. Except my guess is that you will keep this 
  quiet.”
  “Count on it,” Focht said. A little too loud. He winced, 
  and groaned. “So we’ll fi nd out the body discovered 
  today was that of the real Daniel Torrent.”
  Harding hesitated, considered, then shook his head. 
  “No. I doubt the real Daniel Torrent ever made it to Tharkad. 
  The imposter made the switch somewhere en route. At 
  least, that’s how I would have done it.” He laughed, short 
  and sharp. “All the assassin needed to hear was ‘tighter 
  security.’ Though I was careful not to say exactly where the 
  body had been discovered. Just in case.”
  “The wicked fl ee where none pursue.” Focht closed his eye. 
  “Proverbs. Though I am certain Jerome Blake cribbed it somewhere in 
  his teachings.” He was silent for a few long heartbeats. Harding began 
  to rise.
  “Agent Harding?”
  “Yes, Precentor Martial. I am still here.”
  The eye was open again, and fi xed weakly on him. “You mentioned before 
  that the contract was taken on Solaris VII.”
  “That is not quite what I said, sir.” He steeled himself, expecting what was to 
  follow.
  “I have...a friend. One who told me about a man—an assassin—who worked 
  off  Solaris. This man was particularly...skilled.” He glanced toward the back of the 
  room. “Do you think we may have...”
  He knew of whom Focht was speaking. Of course he did. They had discussed 
  him just the other day—the man who had been responsible for the death of 
  Archon Melissa Steiner-Davion, the target of one of the largest manhunts in the 
  history of the Inner Sphere, and still known to be at large. At large, and extremely 
  dangerous. 
  Harding shook his head. “Sorry, Precentor Martial. I believe this man may have 
  been making claims to such a talent, but he was a gifted amateur. Nothing more. Tell 
  your friend...” Harding paused, and watched as Focht slid off  into a troubled rest. 
  “Tell him he’s going to have to keep looking.”
  ▲▼▲
  He had chosen to wear nubs, even though the streets surrounding the Triad 
  were as clear now as they would be year round. No packed snow or black ice upon 
  breath was even, coming ou
  as his gaze shifte
  and back to th
  ds at a po
  PPROACH
  e sign was
  So close 
  were for m
  who was 
  patriot. 
  he’d be
  For the
  what h
  nobody
  A cal
  part of th
  He unde
  Three day
  see wha
  hannels—
  No word 
  nvestigat
  ken out i
  essage re
  working it
  sed simpl
  that he was coming out of
  Anastasius. And that assistan
  “Melissa.”
  lf completely in my hands?’”
  t. “Fair enough
  nse to pro
  e that myse
  getting th
  ?
  were due 
  d to the 
  eep this 
  winced, 
  overed 
  his head.
  o Tharkad
  en route. A
  ghed, shor
  was ‘tighte
  y where th
  osed his e
  bbed it som
  tbeats. Ha
  him. “You mentioned before
  d himself, expecting what was to
  and b
  guard
  AP
  The
  w
  w
  T
  to 
  c
  N
  in
  ta
  It was a me
  months back, w
  message address
  that he was comin
  ough. 
  tect
  elf, 
  he 
  d. 
  At 
  rt 
  er 
  he 
  ye. 
  mewhere in 
  arding began 
  mentioned before
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  173
  
   
  ARTIST: MARK ZUG
  PUBLICATION: HISTORICAL: OPERATION KLONDIKE
  YEAR: FORTHCOMING
  YEAR: FORTHCOMING
  YEAR: FORTHCOMING
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  174
  
   
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: CLAN EXPANSION BOX SET
  YEAR: FORTHCOMING
  YEAR: FORTHCOMING
  YEAR: FORTHCOMING
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  175
  
  C H E R R Y  B L O S S O M S
  ARTIST: CLINT LANGLEY
  PUBLICATION: THE DRAGON ROARS
  YEAR: 1997
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  176
  
  C H E R R Y  B L O S S O M S
  PRIVATE QUARTERS, WARRIORS RESIDENCE
  VERNAN, ASGARD
  CLAN SMOKE JAGUAR OCCUPATION ZONE
  0400 LOCAL (0300 TERRAN TIME)
  28 MAY 3059
  Brone Kotare started awake, eyes wide and breath heavy in his chest. Sweat 
  soaked his sheets and matted his chestnut brown hair to his head. Moonlight 
  streamed into his quarters through the parted balcony doors before him, bathing 
  the fl oor in its radiance yet cloaking the rest of the room in a veil of inky darkness. 
  He watched coils of mist lap at the edge of his bed, the cool tendrils of downy 
  smoke fi lling the room. Only the goosebumps on his hot but quickly cooling fl esh 
  proved the lie for what it was, merely another sleepless night among many.
  The faint scent of fl owers reminded him of where he was and, more pointedly, 
  who he was with. He slowly exhaled to steady his heart and rolled over. His eyes 
  wandered over her form, taking in the sight of her. Moonlight refl ected off  the 
  soft bronzed skin of her shapely legs. The head and claws of a dragon clutching 
  a rose peeked out from under the thin sheet covering the thigh on which it was 
  etched. He marveled at the craftsmanship. The body and tail wrapped around 
  her supple waist, ending at her navel. The magnifi cent scales fl exed and swirled 
  as she breathed. He let his eyes travel up her lithe athletic body to linger on her 
  ample but fi rm breasts only a moment before staring at her face. Soft Asiatic-
  Latino features, deep brown eyes with their slight epicanthic fold, long thick 
  eyelashes, full eyebrows, slight button nose and luscious rosy lips. Stunning, even 
  among a Clan that valued martial prowess above beauty. She lay with one dainty 
  arm draped over her head, midnight black hair cascading in a waterfall around 
  her pillow. Warrior or not, the sight of her still caught Brone’s breath and stirred 
  far more than just his desire. 
  That thought was more disturbing than anything he had faced in a hundred 
  battles. 
  Theirs was a camaraderie unlike anything he had ever shared with a sibmate. 
  There was coupling among the sibko, a fact that was overlooked if not condoned. 
  It was merely physical, a contest of wills—one warrior besting another on diff erent 
  battlefi eld. With her it was diff erent, something that he could not quite put into 
  words. He looked at the thin gray-spotted cord wrapped once around her delicate 
  wrist and wrinkled his face in self-loathing.
  Never had he cared so much about a fellow warrior—much less a mere 
  bondsman.
  No, worse: a freebirth Spheroid bondsman. He knew their relationship was what 
  had held him back from a Cluster command. Still, bondsmen or no, stigma or no, 
  he thought about her constantly. Stravag, he even looked forward to the end of 
  the day just to see her, to hear her voice, to smell her hair and to ...
  Irked by the sudden fl ux emotions he rose and padded across the frigid fl oor to 
  the ferroglass double-doors, mist curling around his legs as he passed. Outside, 
  the moons of Asgard refl ected turquoise light off  of the jagged mountain peaks 
  which themselves fi lled the valley around the Jaguar installation. Rarely did the 
  mists leave the mountains like they did this night. 
  An eerie glow shown over the rooftops of the base itself and for a brief moment 
  the scene reminded him of nights spent in the Jaguar city of Lootera on Huntress 
  before the invasion, before his people had lost their way, before they had become 
  savashri stewards. It reminded him of who he was and who he was destined to be, 
  a hunter in the mist. 
  Deep in thought, he stared beyond the ominous foothills leading to the natural 
  rock formation known as Odin’s Retreat. There among the boulders and bunkers 
  the Fourth Jaguar Dragoons had defeated the Third Benjamin Regulars seven 
  long years earlier. There his life had become so very complicated …
  ▲▼▲
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  177
  ASGARD
  World Name:
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  Position in System: 4
  Time to Jump Point:
  Number of Satellites:
  Surface Gravity:
  Atm. Pressure:
  Equatorial Temperature:
  Surface Water:
  Recharging Station:
  HPG Class Type:
  Highest Native Life:
  Population (3059):
  Socio-Industrial Levels:
  A former Terran Alliance colony, Asgard was convinced to join 
  the Alliance of Galedon in 2309 by the silver tongue of Shiro 
  Kurita. When the backroom dealings that had brought many of 
  the Alliance’s worlds together came to light a few years later, 
  the leaders of Asgard raged at Shiro Kurita’s duplicity. And when 
  the Alliance of Galedon’s ﬂ eet and army were sent to conquer 
  Asgard, the citizens of Asgard refused to submit without a ﬁ ght. 
  Though lacking a sizable army, the defenders were devoted to 
  their freedom and adopted guerrilla tactics to stiﬂ e the attackers 
  for the best part of a year, resulting in massive casualties on 
  both sides. Asgard ﬁ nally fell in August of 2312. 
  More than three-quarters of a millennium later, Clan Smoke 
  Jaguar assaulted Asgard in February 3052. Once more the 
  headstrong Asgardians and the defending Third Benjamin Regulars 
  put up an incredibly strong resistance, delaying the indomitable 
  Smoke Jaguars’ conquest of the world for over a month. 
  Asgard has ﬁ ve major continents and a number of large island 
  chains. Asgard’s capital, Vernan, is located on the southern 
  continent of Muspell. The world’s largest city is situated in the 
  Ragnorak Plains, in the foothills of the formidable Odin’s Retreat 
  mountains. Despite centuries of attempted Kurita brainwashing, 
  Asgard’s citizens remain strong-willed and have now transferred 
  their deﬁ ance to the Smoke Jaguar occupiers of their world.
  u
  s
  a
  o
  h
  a
  A
  e
  A
  t
  A
  f
  o
  u
   
  h
  a
  a
  .
  a
  m
  e
  t
  r
  l
  S
  n
  n
  s
  h
  s
  e
  d
  a
  r
  W
  e
  d
  o
  N
  s
  i
  W
  a
  e
  G
  J
  e
  a
  G
  r
  s
  t
  s
  p
  g
  t
  f
  o
  e
  r
  3
  v
  y
  S
  e
  e
  r
  v
  a
  p
  y
  e
  :
  A
  l
  e
  d
  o
  a
  s
  n
  a
  d
  b
  l
  L
  9
  i
  o
  e
  i
  m
  a
  R
  r
  a
  a
  a
  t
  A
  n
  a
  o
  r
  n
  s
  u
  :
  T
  t
  n
  s
  l
  r,
  g
  r
  a
  e
  d
  h
  m
  2
  c
  e
  s
  e
  e
  A
  s
  r
  t
  e
  S
  c
  a
  9
  n
  c
  d
  a
  s
  g
  a
  d
  e
   
  s
  s
  e
  T
  3
  i
  s
  n
  t
  i
  t
  d
  n
  B
  s
  s
  s
  m
  e
  d
  a
  d
  s
  a
  ,
  c
  t
  r
  w
  n
  c
  w
  o
  n
  n
  d
  m
  n
  a
  e
  u
  A
  a
  e
  t
  u
  m
  s
  k
  ﬁ
  q
  w
  a
  n
  S
  o
  the Alliance of Galedon in 2309 by the silver tongue of Shiro 
  the Alliance’s worlds together came to light a few years later
  g
  g
  p
  y
  for the best part of a year resulting in massive casualties on
  f
  Asgard the citizens of Asgard refused to submit without a ﬁght
  A
  k
  S
  l
  C
  l
  i
  li
  f
  h
  h
  M
  Jaguar assaulted Asgard in February 3052. Once more the
  J
  i
  dibl
  t
  i t
  d l
  i
  th
  i d
  it bl
  Socio Industrial Levels:
  S
  Highest Native Life:
  S
  f
  W t
  S
  Atm. Pressure:
  Ti
  t
  J
  P i t
  T
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  S
  ASGARD
  A
  CHERRY BLOSSOMS
  A D A M  S H E R W O O D
  
  C H E R R Y  B L O S S O M S
  BRAVO STAR, FIRST TRINARY BATTLE 
  ODIN’S RETREAT, ASGARD, 
  BENJAMIN MILITARY DISTRICT, DRACONIS COMBINE
  1500 LOCAL (1400 TERRAN TIME)
  25 FEBRUARY 3052
  Crushed rock and white-hot shrapnel fl ew everywhere as a quad of SRMs 
  exploded against the boulder to the right of Brone’s Stormcrow. Following the 
  twisting gray contrails of smoke back to the off ender was child’s play. He grinned 
  wickedly. Guarding the mountain pass ahead of him, but well hidden under a 
  camoufl aged tarp and a chunky outcropping of hematite and shale stood a 
  disheveled Jenner painted in the whites and browns of the Third Benjamin 
  Regulars. Rents and tears along the ’Mech’s torso and limbs displayed the pilot’s 
  experience.
  For three long weeks the Cluster had attempted to engage these freebirths 
  in honorable combat but they hid in the jumbled fortress of rock and stone that 
  was Odin’s Retreat. Time and again the Fourth Dragoons had been thwarted by 
  ambushes, artillery fi re, and dezgra raiding. No doubt this was the very same 
  pilot who had attempted to strafe the warrior’s mess this very morning and been 
  chased away by Star Captain Sersa and a Point of Elementals.
  Behind him his Star of OmniMechs were arrayed in overwatch pattern Delta, 
  taking a brief respite from the long march around the front. The rest of First 
  Trinary Battle was deployed a few kilometers farther back, waiting to exploit any 
  breach in the lines. MechWarrior Krista reined in her thirty-ton Adder alongside his 
  much-larger Stormcrow.
  “Sersa will not be pleased to lose her quarry, quiaff ?” Her tone belied her mirth. 
  She was always happiest when she was hunting.
  “Aff , but all is fair in war and football.” The thought of taking the boisterous 
  Binary commander’s kill brought another smile to his lips. After all, she had not 
  formally bid for the right to kill the Jenner though she had certainly sworn publicly 
  to do such.
  Returning his thoughts to the present he watched in amusement as it tried to 
  shuffl  e out from under the tarp that had become snagged on its antenna array. 
  Its attempts to free itself  only served to worsen its predicament and soon its 
  antennae were bent and warped.
  A unit crest—a ring of stars—stood out in stark contrast against the bleak 
  surroundings of Odin’s Retreat like a bull’s-eye. Brone raised his targeting reticle 
  and zeroed-in on the symbol, then frowned. The ’Mech’s left arm—and the two 
  medium lasers mounted there—hung loosely toward the ground. Hardly a worthy 
  foe. Still, the weak must be culled so that the strong survive.
  He activated his microphone. “I am Star Commander Brone of Clan Smoke 
  Jaguar! I pilot the Stormcrow of Bravo Star, First Battle. I invoke the ritual of 
  zellbrigen and challenge the pilot of the Jenner who dared fi re on me unawares to 
  a duel of warriors. To even the odds I will not use my missile systems against you. 
  In this matter let no one interfere!” His Star-members responded with a chorus 
  of “Seyla”. They knew that no matter how the fi ght may progress, to intervene 
  would be to rob him of his honor and cost them their life. Satisfi ed that all was 
  as it should be he trotted his ’Mech forward fi fty meters to give his target space 
  between him and his Starmates so as not to risk having the Jenner hit them and 
  open the duel up into a free-for-all. 
  He zeroed in on the Jenner’s torso just as the pilot engaged the ’Mech’s jump 
  jets and leapt into the sky. The tarp went with it. The maneuverable light ’Mech 
  sailed over the boulder-strewn clearing fi ring its SRMs and both remaining 
  medium lasers, the mottled gray and maroon tarp fl apping wildly behind it like a 
  cloak. Two missiles corkscrewed into the armor of the Stormcrow’s left arm while 
  the medium lasers cut parallel lines into the bedrock at the ’Mech’s feet. 
  Unfazed, Brone let loose with two of his medium pulse lasers, scoring deeply 
  into the Jenner’s already-thin left torso armor. A silver fl ash and billowing smoke 
  told him he had tagged a jump jet. The loss of thrust staggered the small ’Mech in 
  mid-fl ight and what had been a graceful leap now became a wild plummet as the 
  pilot struggled. With uncanny eff ort the scout swerved his crippled Jenner away 
  from a collision with a looming monolith. He could not arrest his fall and landed 
  sideways with a tremendous crash. The impact from the fall mangled the left leg, 
  caved-in the left torso and tore the already-damaged arm completely free.
  Far too quick and easy. If only we had been bid into the fi ghting sooner. Brone 
  brought up his opponent’s damage schematic on an ancillary screen and scanned 
  ARTIST: SHANE WHITE
  PUBLICATION: THE DRAGON ROARS
  YEAR: 1997
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  178
  
  C H E R R Y  B L O S S O M S
  “Aff , Star Commander,” she growled. “The will of the Jaguar be done.” The Star 
  spread out into the clearing and began searching for more prey.
  Ah, Krista. A true huntress on the prowl. Our coupling will be even sweeter than 
  usual tonight. Toggling his missiles over to his second fi ring tick he brought the 
  targeting reticle up onto the now-steaming Combine ’Mech and waited for tone. 
  As soon as the crosshairs burned gold he fi red both Streak SRM packs and his 
  arm-mounted LRMs. Thirty-two short- and long-range missiles screamed out, 
  raising smoke and dust as they fl ew across the clearing. Just before they struck 
  the Combine warrior threw the ’Mech’s right arm up and out in a pirouette which 
  spun it behind the rock outcropping. Most of the missiles snaked into the boulder, 
  exploding in a dazzling—but harmless—cacophony of smoke, light and sound. A 
  few of the Streaks retained their lock and slammed into the ’Mech’s exposed arm 
  and torso, but did little damage. 
  Savashri! Never had he seen such a maneuver. Truly, this pilot was a foe worth 
  fi ghting! He snapped another laser shot at the limping Jenner. This time the 
  staccato pulses of ruby light buried themselves deeply into its side. A gout of 
  fl ame erupted from the blackened hole and the doomed ’Mech collapsed. Brone 
  spared not a thought on the pilot. He had fought poorly. Heat fl ooded his cockpit 
  but was quickly brought under control by his ample cooling systems.
  “You will pay for that, gaijin!” Shunting heat of its own, the Combine assault 
  ’Mech stepped from behind the boulder and charged into the clearing, fi ring 
  both SRM racks as it ran. Twelve missiles jetted straight for Brone’s cockpit. 
  Determined to put some distance between himself and the crimson goliath, 
  Brone backpedaled, cut right, then reversed his momentum, hoping to break 
  missile lock. He was only partly successful.
  Ten short-range missiles slammed into his ’Mech’s torso, right arm and right leg, 
  shaking him like a marble in a tin can. His restraints dug deeply into his fl esh. He 
  ignored the pain and focused instead on returning fi re. He twisted his torso and 
  waited for a solid lock, then fi red only one of his Streak SRM racks. As the missiles 
  zoomed toward the Hatamoto-Chi, the wily warrior again pirouetted at the last 
  moment, spinning the ’Mech to the left. This time Brone was ready. 
  He aimed all four of his arm-mounted medium pulse lasers at the space where 
  the ’Mech would be when it fi nished its maneuver. As its head popped up, he fi red. 
  All four crimson beams caught the Hatamoto-Chi full in the chest. Gigajoules of 
  concentrated light blasted through ferro-fi brous armor, sending molten globules of 
  metal steaming down onto the gravel of the streambed. They cored their way through 
  to the ’Mech’s internal structure, fi nishing their vile caress somewhere within.
  As the lasers abated, shards of smoking black material shot from the open hole. 
  Brone knew he had eviscerated the ’Mech’s gyro when the graphite composite of 
  the Jenner. Not much honor to 
  be gained here. He gave the 
  pilot a chance to recover—after 
  all, it would not be honorable 
  to attack a foe that could not 
  defend himself. After a few 
  seconds the ’Mech began to stir 
  and Brone prepared to fi nish the 
  duel, even if it had turned out to 
  be so in name only.
  “Star Commander, beware!” 
  MechWarrior 
  Erik’s 
  warning 
  prompted him to action. He 
  glanced up to see an immense 
  war machine with upraised 
  shoulder-pauldrons 
  and 
  a 
  distinct 
  helmet-like 
  head 
  assembly step into the pass the 
  Jenner had previously occupied. 
  His 
  computer 
  immediately 
  tagged the newcomer as an 
  eighty-ton Hatamoto-Chi; the 
  PPC barrels on each arm crackled 
  with raw energy as it moved. 
  Brone slapped his throttle 
  forward, forcing his ’Mech into 
  motion from a dead stop. To 
  stand was to die. Caught fl at-
  footed he could not move his fi fty-fi ve-ton Stormcrow fast enough. Blue-white 
  arcs of energy lashed his ’Mech, ripping into his right leg and arm with electric 
  blasts of man-made lightning. Fitting that I pay the price for my inattentiveness. 
  Moments later, two volleys of SRMs whizzed past his ’Mech’s chest and slammed 
  into the shale boulders of the pass.
  “Blighted stravag of a freebirth surat!” Challenges rang out as his Star bid for 
  the right to engage the interloper. Brone cut them off . “Neg! It is mine by right of 
  zellbrigen.” He fl ipped over to an open broadcast, “In the name of Kerensky, who 
  dares impede this sacred and honorable duel? I will know your name before I take 
  your head!” 
  The red and pink assault ’Mech stepped forward. “I am Tai-i Masamune Mikki 
  Asganari.” Executing a perfect bow, the Hatamoto-Chi took up a fi ghting stance, 
  “Iie! My eyes see no honor here, worthless cur! Your ’Mech outweighs Gunsho 
  Tanagi’s by twenty tons with lostech he could not hope to match and yet you 
  would pretend this to be a fair and honorable contest?” Brone saw clearly the 
  cherry blossoms adorning the Kuritan ’Mech’s radiator fi ns, waist-plate and head 
  assembly. “Even were he whole and fresh the dictates of bushido would demand 
  I intercede.” 
  Brone ground his teeth and pounded his command console in fury. The barbs 
  stung. “You insult me! I off ered him fair terms. I bid away three of my missile racks 
  to compensate yet what would you freebirths know of honor? For weeks you 
  have hidden among these iron-cursed mountains refusing to face us in honorable 
  combat. Now you violate zellbrigen and fi re on me unannounced? I will face you 
  both and when I am fi nished I will see you scrubbing the mud from my ’Mech as 
  my bondsman!” 
  He twisted his torso and snapped another laser shot at the Jenner, which had 
  risen and was attempting to sneak back toward the narrow pass. His pulse laser 
  dug deeply into the ’Mech’s upper left thigh, slashing through myomer. “No, stay 
  for a while. I insist.”
  “You Smoke Jaguars would not know honor from a toire. Evidently, I must teach 
  you.” 
  The Hatamoto-Chi fi red another full salvo of PPCs and SRMs but this time Brone 
  was ready. He juked hard, digging his Mech’s foot into the ground to make the 
  turn, braked, then stoked his extra-light engine, once more throwing off  the 
  Combine warrior’s aim. Neither PPC scored and only a handful of SRMs achieved 
  lock, spreading their damage equally over his ’Mech’s chest legs and arms.
  He switched to his Star frequency, “Krista, watch the pass and beware any 
  interference. Engage any targets that present themselves.”
  ARTIST: DES HANLEY
  PUBLICATION: INNER SPHERE
  YEAR: 2000
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  179
  
  C H E R R Y  B L O S S O M S
  the reaction wheels burst out. The Kuritan pilot struggled vainly against the laws 
  of physics but the Hatamoto-Chi crashed to the packed earth in a lifeless heap. Its 
  destruction meant an end to the battle and another addendum to his codex: two 
  more kills added to his string of thirty. But that can wait.
  He cantered his ’Mech over to stand over his fallen opponent. The cockpit hatch 
  popped open. A fi gure in a dark-red coolant vest and matching neurohelmet 
  climbed out. Good, the fall did not damage my prize. He activated both his 
  broadcast array and external speakers, “Pilot of the fallen Hatamoto-Chi: you have 
  fought bravely. Never before have I seen a warrior perform thus. You have won my 
  sincere admiration.” He glanced at the downed Jenner and scoff ed. “As such, I, Star 
  Commander Brone of Clan Smoke Jaguar, hereby take you as my bondsman to 
  serve the one true Clan. Let all those present hear these solemn words.”
  His Starmates all breathed the word “Seyla” in response.
  Below him, the pilot climbed down from a chain ladder and leapt the last 
  meter to the ground. Raising gloved hands over his head, the warrior removed 
  the antiquated helmet and let fl owing black hair cascade around her shoulders 
  and down to her back. 
  What is this? 
  A gust of wind lifted her hair from her face and revealed a woman far more 
  fetching than he had ever seen. She fl ung her helmet at his ’Mech and extended 
  the center fi nger of her right hand in a back-handed gesture, all the while yelling 
  something in archaic Japanese. At her hip she wore a long, slightly-curved sword. 
  Around her waist she wore a red sash into which was tucked a second, shorter 
  sword approximately one-third the length of the fi rst. One word crystallized in 
  his mind: samurai.
  “I have never seen that greeting before.” Erik—the former Ghost Bear—sounded 
  genuinely perplexed.
  “Nor have I, Erik.” Brone laughed. So much for my ever learning that maneuver. 
  Ahead, a battle-scarred Panther attempted to fi ll the gap left by its fallen 
  comrades but was quickly cut down. Krista sang out her glee and sprinted her 
  Adder forward to prevent another Combine ’Mech from fi lling the hole. Behind 
  them the remainder of First Trinary Battle came fl ooding through the western 
  pass. A Star of armored Elementals approached his new bondsman and tried to 
  remove her weapons, which resulted in heated discussion. Eventually, they were 
  forced to sedate her after she tried unsuccessfully to lop off  one of their arms with 
  her sword. 
  Satisfi ed his bondsman would not escape, he followed Krista into Odin’s 
  Retreat.
  “All right, Bravo Star. Move out.” 
  The rout of the Regulars had begun.
  ▲▼▲
  PRIVATE QUARTERS, WARRIORS RESIDENCE
  VERNAN, ASGARD
  CLAN SMOKE JAGUAR OCCUPATION ZONE
  0430 LOCAL (0330 TERRAN TIME)
  28 MAY 3059
  Brone slammed his fi st against the doorframe in frustration. Seven years! Has 
  it been so long? He suppressed a primal roar. Yet here we are still. Caretakers of a 
  battlefi eld long since won. Our beloved Clan a shell of its former self. 
  Humbled in the defeats at Luthien and Tukayyid and staggered by the loss of 
  nearly all of Alpha Galaxy, the Clan had withdrawn to its holdings to reorganize 
  and recover. The Fourth was transferred to the newly-formed Epsilon Galaxy and 
  ordered to return to Asgard to take up duty as the garrison there. 
  He clenched his fi st so tightly his fi ngers went numb. Yet still we wait like savashri 
  laborers for the merchants to open their doors so the toil can begin. 
  Brone suspected they were to wait until the end of the truce ComStar had won 
  at Tukayyid, which lasted still eight years hence. So too did the rest of the Fourth. 
  It was a slow death sentence.
  Soon many warriors would be cycled out to solahma units to hunt pirates in 
  the Periphery or—worse—to the sibkos where they would train snot-nosed brats 
  until the end of their days. Some of the most seasoned veterans had already left 
  to be replaced by a younger, newer generation of warriors with faster refl exes and 
  stronger bloodlines: the Clan solution to every problem. Fix it with genetics. What 
  PUBLICATION: 1ST SOMERSET STRIKERS
  YEAR: 1995
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  180
  
  C H E R R Y  B L O S S O M S
  Brone shook his head in disgust, remembering the underbidding that had 
  taken place earlier in the month when the mercenary unit Jake’s Heavy Hitters had 
  attempted to raid the supply depot. Some commanders were so eager they had 
  bid as low as a single Star in order to win the right to engage an entire company 
  of Spheroid raiders. The casualties had been horrendous. 
  Five fi ne warriors killed, two more badly wounded. Such a waste! They have 
  learned none of the lessons that were taught so forcefully on Luthien. Bah! A single 
  smoke jaguar does not throw itself against an entire herd of hell’s horses in the vain 
  hope it can bring one down before being trampled in the press, quineg? It selects 
  a single horse, determines when and where to strike and then leaps, tearing out 
  the throat in one fell lunge! That is the way of the Jaguar. The Founder developed 
  the practice of bidding in order to preserve our forces, not fritter them away bit by 
  bit in a vain search for individual glory! The needs of the Clan must come fi rst. 
  He sighed. He too felt powless, like one of Mikki’s cherry blossoms caught in 
  a hurricane. He knew what needed to be done but he was a single voice among 
  many. 
  I no longer even recognize my own people. We are falling, I can feel it. I fear that 
  soon we will fall so far that we may never recover.
  He started as warm, soft hands caressed his tense shoulders. Looking back, he 
  saw she had not bothered to dress.
  “Sumimasen, Star Captain Kotare,” Mikki apologized, breathing huskily into his 
  ear. “I did not mean to startle you.”
  He let her supple hands massage the tension out of him as he continued staring 
  out at the dark landscape, “No apology necessary, Mikki-san. The fault is mine for 
  losing awareness of my surroundings.”
  She laughed, a merry tinkling he had always found musical and highly 
  provocative. “Were I of a mind I could have slain you and stole away, like an 
  assassin in the night.”
  With lightning refl exes he took her right hand in his, reversed her grip and spun 
  her around so that she was in front of him, the back of her neck exposed. “Were 
  I of a mind to die I could not imagine a sweeter death.” He kissed her lightly on 
  the neck.
  She ran her hands slowly up his arms in a soft caress then, fast as an adder, 
  grabbed his head with both hands and pulled herself up and over while kicking 
  out against the door for leverage. As she dropped she placed her elbow around 
  his throat and then pulled his head to the side. “Had I wanted you dead it could 
  have been so a thousand times over. Perhaps your death is not what I seek.” She 
  kissed him on the neck, albeit far more passionately.
  Brone hesitated. They had never spoken of their relationship. It just was. Fearless 
  though he was in battle, the idea had somehow formed that if he gave voice to 
  what was, it would no longer be. Somehow sensing his confl ict, she changed the 
  subject.
  “Are the Prowlers on maneuvers this morning?” She looked past him and out 
  the window.
  “What?” He turned in time to see two Stars of Visigoth and Jagatai aerospace 
  fi ghters streak high into the sky toward a very faint light which to the casual 
  observer might look like a distant comet or small meteor. He knew it immediately 
  for what it was: the drive fl are of a DropShip. In moments several more appeared 
  and within a minute’s span he counted ten separate drive fl ares which could mean 
  only one thing. Invasion
  “Shikata ga nai. Nothing can be done about it. Whoever they may be, they are 
  still many, many hours away and you have not yet been called.” Mikki wrapped 
  her arms around him and led him toward the bed. “For now, in the moments we 
  have left, let us speak of cherry blossoms. Fate will decide our destiny. We have 
  but our part to play.”
  ▲▼▲
  BATTLEMECH MAINTENANCE FACILITY
  VERNAN, ASGARD
  CLAN SMOKE JAGUAR OCCUPATION ZONE
  0635 LOCAL (0535 TERRAN TIME)
  28 MAY 3059
  A tap sounded on his canopy glass. He looked over and found Mikki, wearing 
  her technician’s coveralls. She pointed to a portable communicator in her hand.
  they needed was the experience that had sharpened his Trinary in battle, the very 
  qualities that had made them the feared Death Dealers. 
  Now our warriors walk with heads hung low, their eyes cast down, powless to 
  change their plight. Our leaders posture and preen in endless debate but in the end 
  we only raid among ourselves for supplies and genetic material. As if that will give us 
  the edge we need to renew our drive toward Terra, let alone rebuild our losses. By the 
  time this cursed truce is ended we will all be cold in the grave. 
  He ran his hand down a scar in his side, taken during a Trial of Grievance over 
  a trivial matter in which he had been forced to kill his opponent after she had 
  refused to yield. 
  To make matters worse, when opportunity for real battle presents itself our older 
  warriors throw themselves headlong into combat, heedless of the outcome, in the 
  vain hope that they will die gloriously and that their actions will redeem them—that 
  their giftake will be used in the breeding program so that they may live forever. 
  C H E R R Y  B L O S S O M
  Brone shook 
  ken place earl
  tempted to ra
  d as low as a s
  Spheroid raid
  Five fi ne wa
  learned none
  smoke jagua
  hope it can b
  a single hors
  the throat in 
  the practice o
  bit in a vain se
  He sighed. H
  hurricane. He
  any. 
  I no longer ev
  on we will fall 
  He started as
  w she had no
  “Sumimasen, 
  r. “I did not m
  He let her sup
  ut at the dark 
  sing awarenes
  She laughed
  ovocative. “W
  sassin in the n
  With lightnin
  er around so t
  of a mind to d
  e neck.
  She ran her h
  abbed his hea
  ut against the 
  s throat and t
  ve been so a 
  ssed him on th
  Brone hesitat
  ough he was 
  hat was, it wo
  bject.
  “Are the Prow
  e window.
  “What?” He tu
  ghters streak 
  bserver might 
  r what it was: 
  d within a min
  nly one thing. 
  “Shikata ga n
  still many, many
  tak
  att
  bid
  of 
  a h
  ma
  soo
  saw
  ea
  ou
  los
  pro
  ass
  he
  I o
  the
  gra
  ou
  his
  ha
  kis
  tho
  wh
  su
  the
  fi g
  ob
  for
  an
  on
  ARTIST: KEVIN LONG
  PUBLICATION: FIELD MANUAL: DRACONIS COMBINE
  YEAR: 1996
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  181
  
  C H E R R Y  B L O S S O M S
  “Star Captain, your ’Mech is fully armed and armored with the modifi cations 
  you requested.” He examined his wire-diagram battle schematic and verifi ed his 
  weapons and armor status. All indicators read green.
  “I have also left something for you under your command couch. May it 
  bring you luck in battle.” 
  He reached under his chair and pulled out a red sash, 
  the very same she had worn on the day he had captured 
  her. He looked up in astonishment. She merely smiled, 
  though it did not quite meet her eyes. Instead he saw 
  sadness in their depths. Her Hatamoto-Chi stood directly 
  across from his Stormcrow, though it was powered down, its 
  reactor cold. It had been fully repaired and rearmed yet no warrior within 
  the Cluster would suff er the disgrace of being saddled with the inferior 
  Spheroid machine. Thus it had sat for seven years, meticulously maintained 
  yet pilotless.
  He looked into her eyes, knowing her pain. For an ex-Spheroid warrior to be 
  Dispossessed was the worse fate of all. He could not imagine what it must be 
  like for her; as bad as being driven to a solahma unit, perhaps. He nodded in 
  recognition and glanced at her bondcord, the cord of battle prowess.
  The cord he would never be able to cut.
  “Aff .” To say more would be inappropriate, especially in front of the other techs 
  present. He smiled his appreciation then tied her sash around his neck. 
  Seeming satisfi ed, she bowed then climbed down from the ’Mech gantry. In 
  moments she was gone. 
  He shook himself. Focus, Brone. You have a mission to perform. Powering up his 
  enhanced targeting computer he quickly ran through a function check of each of 
  his Stormcrow’s weapon systems. 
  “No batchall, quineg?” Krista had been out on maneuvers and had missed the 
  initial briefi ng. He could see her through the ferroglass of her Warhammer IIC’s 
  cockpit across the ’Mech bay. She had lost her Adder on Luthien and had been 
  given the second-line assault ’Mech as a replacement—a mark of shame for her 
  participation in the defeat. He remembered the battle well.
  “Neg, no batchall.” Brone peeled off  a dermal adhesive patch, placed it on 
  his chest, and plugged the last medical monitoring sensor into his command 
  couch. “Their transmission was only a string of poorly-phrased threats laced with 
  invectives and contractions.”
  “Then I am glad not to have heard.”
  The rest of the Trinary had already departed for the rendezvous point. Star 
  Commander Erik, along with two other warriors of his command Star, were waiting 
  outside so they could proceed. He had lost two of his best, most experienced 
  warriors last October when they had been rotated back to Huntress, orders he 
  had protested vehemently. As replacements they had received two sibrats fresh 
  from their Trials of Position. MechWarriors Shaughan and Ian were the result of 
  an experimental mixing between Smoke Jaguar and Goliath Scorpion genes; 
  the Furey line crossed with the questionable Dinour bloodline. Neither had any 
  experience outside of their sibko, yet both exhibited the typical arrogance of 
  youth. It would have to suffi  ce.
  Brone brought up his tactical feeds and uploaded the mission briefi ng data to 
  the Trinary command net. It showed the deployment of each invading DropShip 
  and their respective troops. A total of ten spheroid DropShips of various sizes—
  the largest were two Overlord-class vessels—had grounded thirty-fi ve kilometers 
  outside of Vernan. At last count more than six Clusters of BattleMechs, armor, and 
  artillery had already off -loaded and begun to deploy. Many of the ’Mech designs 
  were unfamiliar to the Cluster’s analysts and registered as new models. Dozens 
  scanned as OmniMechs. Fortunately, less then twenty percent of the forces 
  arrayed against them were advanced designs. Full schematics and specifi cations 
  had been uploaded to their battle computers. The Watch was competent. Still, the 
  situation did not look good.
  “I counted ten DropShips, enough to hold more than two Galaxies. Less than 
  honorable odds, quiaff ?” 
  Brone knew Krista asked not out of fear but simply to better understand her 
  role in the impending battle. “Aff . We will face the Third Benjamin Regulars and 
  the Third Proserpina Hussars. The Davion Heavy Guard and the 278th Com Guard 
  appear to be taking up defensive positions around the city in an eff ort to cut off  
  any retreat.” 
  She scoff ed, her voice fi lled with contempt, “The Benjamin Regulars? So they 
  have returned with help to do what they could not do alone. Typical.”
  Brone watched as she fl exed her Warhammer IIC’s legs and began the long walk 
  toward the assembly area. He slipped his own ’Mech from its berth and followed 
  her out. As the morning mists obscured the base from view he found himself 
  wondering if he would ever see it—or Mikki—again.
  ▲▼▲
  COMMAND STAR, FIRST TRINARY BATTLE 
  ODIN’S RETREAT, ASGARD, 
  CLAN SMOKE JAGUAR OCCUPATION ZONE
  1300 LOCAL (1200 TERRAN TIME)
  31 MAY 3059
  “That was an order! Pull back!” Brone ground his teeth in frustration. Another 
  ’Mech, this time a Hankyu from Alpha Star, disintegrated as it suff ered the 
  combined fi re of nearly a full company of Kuritan BattleMechs. 
  Against orders he had rushed out to duel a lone Raptor. Of course it had been 
  bait. The Jaguar warrior had left the safety of Odin’s Retreat to face the Spheroid 
  ’Mech and been ambushed. Brone pounded his chair. Savashri! At least he took the 
  ’Mech with him but at what cost? 
  The Third Proserpina Hussars had started another push along the front—their 
  third today—and as usual he was working full time just to keep the warriors of 
  VIRTUAL WORLD ENTERTAINMENT
  SUNDER CONCEPT ART
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  182
  
  C H E R R Y  B L O S S O M S
  Brone backpedaled, searching for cover, and took a few autocannon hits to his 
  ’Mech’s lower legs. He found temporary sanctuary behind a rounded mound of 
  shale, ducking just as a Gauss slug pulverized the striated rock and ricocheted 
  into the air. Then disaster struck.
  “The northern pass is lost. We cannot hold.” The sound of battle fi lled the 
  airwaves as Star Colonel Showers transmitted, his voice a husk of its former 
  strength. “Trinary commanders, your task is to escape and warn the Clan. Use any 
  means necessary.” An artillery blast shook the ground, reverberating up through 
  the ’Mech’s feet. “My Smoke Jaguars, it has been an honor and a privilege to serve 
  as your commanding offi  cer. Farewell.” A greasy plume of smoke to the north 
  signaled the Cluster commander’s demise and the collapse of their fl ank.
  Brone sat in stunned silence. We are lost. He watched as MechWarrior Shaughan 
  charged his Mad Dog into the defi le, fi ring his large pulse lasers as he ran. Another 
  warrior, he knew not who, fl ew past on fl aming jets of charged plasma to land 
  his Shadow Cat somewhere beyond his sight. Another explosion rocked his 
  Stormcrow, knocking him from his stupor.
  All around him his warriors were dying. Dying because they believed they had 
  nothing else to lose. His own failure to prevent catastrophe would most assuredly 
  mean that his giftake would be worthless, Bloodname or not. He looked down at 
  his sweat-encrusted hands and wiped them clean. A charge…
  The scent of cherry blossoms caught his attention. He was confused until he 
  noticed Mikki’s sash lying forgotten against his cooling vest. He pulled it to his 
  face and breathed in her scent.
  All the memories, the meals, the conversations, the countless nights spent in 
  her arms, all fl ooded his consciousness and galvanized his will. One thought in 
  particular—the route they had used to infi ltrate into Odin’s Retreat seven years 
  ago. He would not lie down and die, not for the Star League, not for anyone.
  “All units. I am uploading nav points yankee and zeta. Use that route to 
  exfi ltrate. Follow me.” He punched several coordinates into his console then 
  began maneuvering his way through the system of bunkers and boulders that 
  made up Odin’s Retreat. “Erik, Krista, we are going to punch through whatever 
  forces they have and break clear of these surats.” A tired chorus of “aff s” followed 
  his directive. Only a few warriors still lived to make the attempt. He hoped it 
  would be enough.
  They quickly made headway ducking around the broken terrain as they 
  charged out of the mountains toward the narrow western pass. Twice they 
  charged through pairs of light reconnaissance ’Mechs who made the mistake of 
  attempting to impede their march. Twice they bulled their way through, leaving 
  the light ’Mechs in smoking ruin. Each time they lost a little more armor, each time 
  they took a little more damage.
  Then, stepping around a series of broken spires he found the exit to the Retreat, 
  and his heart sank.
  Standing before the western pass were four very large, very ugly ’Mechs, for 
  which the computer had no classifi cation. At 90 tons each identical BattleMech 
  carried a round missile launcher in its shoulder assembly while a weapon barrel 
  sprouted from its left arm in place of a hand. Their heads consisted of a vile 
  masks shaped in the form of some grim demon. Were it not for the fact that they 
  displayed the emblems of House Kurita and the Third Benjamin Regulars, Brone 
  would have thought them creatures from the abyss come to take his very soul. He 
  stood transfi xed by their evil grins. It was not until one of the devils fi red a PPC 
  into Erik’s Timber Wolf that he was able to break free from his paralysis.
   “They are all that stand between us and our goal.” He aimed at the centermost 
  ’Mech and fi red everything. Missiles and lasers bored in, hitting it in the right 
  arm and torso. It stumbled and fell, but not before fi ring its own missile pack and 
  ER PPC dead center at a Hankyu that accompanied his group. The Jaguar ’Mech 
  vomited fi re from its back, but collapsed despite the CASE’s valiant attempt to 
  contain the missile explosion. 
  “This one is mine!” Erik charged his Timber Wolf into the fray, fi ring his PPCs and 
  Streak SRMs. Krista limped her Warhammer IIC forward, its leg dragging limply 
  behind, sickly green coolant pouring down the thigh like spilt blood. She too fi red 
  as she walked. Their weapons cut a swath through the pass, forcing the immense 
  assault ’Mechs back several steps. Their raw fury blazed a trail for Brone and the 
  survivors to follow.
  And follow they would. 
  Brone stalked forward in their wake, determined to win through to freedom. 
  He fi red his lasers at another of the demonic BattleMechs, striking it in the right 
  First Trinary Battle from dashing headlong into oblivion. At least, what is left of my 
  Trinary. 
  Their fi rst engagement had been a disaster. As he had suspected, warriors 
  both young and old had abandoned all semblance of order in their mad rush 
  to engage the enemy and had been cut down like wheat under an AgroMech. 
  Less than a fourth of the Trinary remained. The supposedly-honorable warriors of 
  the false Star League wasted no time on dueling or even preamble; they merely 
  focused their fi re on the nearest target and cut it down as fast and as effi  ciently as 
  possible. Even after a ’Mech ceased to be a threat they continued to fi re, refusing 
  to allow wounded warriors to withdraw or to surrender. Not that many Clan 
  warriors would consider such a disgrace. There was no honor in these so-called 
  warriors’ actions, only expediency. It was murder, plain and simple. 
  In desperation he had suggested to Star Colonel Showers that they fall back to 
  Odin’s Retreat, if only to plan a proper response to the Spheroid’s outrageous and 
  excessive use of force. The Epsilon Galaxy Command Trinary had slipped away 
  quietly in order to arrange DropShip support. It was only a two-hour march to 
  reach the DropShips.
  That had been two days ago. 
  Brone opened a command-wide channel, “The next warrior to disobey an order 
  will be summarily executed. I will see to it that their giftake is destroyed.” Hopefully, 
  that will deter further acts of suicide. If not then there was no hope for the Trinary, 
  let alone the Cluster. His battered and beaten Stormcrow crouched behind a large 
  boulder while he ran through tactical options. He pored over the maps of the 
  area, looking for any possibility of escape. There were none. They were running 
  out of time.
  Krista called out. “Brone, here they come.” 
  He glanced out of his ferroglass canopy at the bleak, battle-scarred landscape, 
  straining to fi nd with his eyes what his ’Mech’s sensors could not. Then he saw 
  it. A shadow moved, dust fl ew. They were using the boulders as cover for their 
  advance.
  “Sentries, identify targets and paint them with your targeting systems. All units 
  with LRMs and SRMs will engage targets as they present themselves. Concentrate 
  fi re as they move into the kill zones I have established. No dueling!” He did not 
  want to dispense with zellbrigen but he simply did not see an alternative.
  A huge red and white speckled BattleMech, one he had never seen before but 
  that his battle computer identifi ed as a Sunder, waddled up the southern defi le. 
  On its shoulder it bore the familiar Star League star along with several other crests 
  on its chest and thigh that he did not recognize. Before he could utter a word one 
  of his sentries, MechWarrior Ian, stepped out from behind a stone pillar and into 
  the defi le, eight of his Nova’s ER medium lasers blazing.
  Ton after ton of armor fell from the arms and torso of the immense machine as it 
  took hit after hit but it stood unfazed. In slow motion, the Sunder raised its stubby 
  arms and fi red, catching the young warrior’s medium ’Mech with a barrage from 
  its own lasers and powerful autocannon. Already mangled from artillery and air 
  strikes, the Nova’s right leg crumpled under the savage assault. His Nova’s active 
  probe and TAG kept streaming data to the unit as he fell.
  “Stravag!” Brone stepped his Stormcrow around the boulder. “Engage!”
  He raised his targeting reticle and his enhanced battle computer instantly 
  obtained a lock. Thirty-two missiles from his torso-mounted LRM-20 and Streak 
  SRM-6s leapt out of their launch tubes and crashed into the Sunder’s chest, 
  continuing the savage destruction begun by the Nova. Seconds later they were 
  joined by a fl ight of SRMs from Erik’s Timber Wolf. The Kuritan Omni staggered as 
  more and more explosions rocked its squat, blocky torso and for a time it appeared 
  that it might fall under the onslaught. Yet despite the calamitous damage it had 
  received, the Sunder’s relentless advance continued.
  Behind it a line of heavy and assault ’Mechs—a Black Hawk-KU, an Avatar and 
  another Sunder—pushed into the narrow confi nes of the defi le, fi ring at the crippled 
  Nova as they came. Ian died in a violent hail of laser and autocannon fi re. 
  Anxious to end their dangerous thrust Brone fi red his lasers at the lead 
  ’Mech, pushing his heat into the yellow. All fi ve lasers reached across the defi le, 
  gigajoules of penetrating light seeking a chink in the Sunder’s thick armor. Finding 
  a fl aw amid the already-damaged armor, one laser cut through and speared an 
  ammunition bin. Brilliant fl ashes erupted from the ’Mech’s chest as its SRM and 
  autocannon rounds cooked off . The ’Mech exploded, sending pieces of scalding 
  steel everywhere even as Krista and Erik fi red past. 
  The Kuritans advanced undaunted. 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  183
  
  C H E R R Y  B L O S S O M S
  He was still trying to ascertain his whereabouts when the room’s only door, 
  a large oval portal with a metal handle, opened, admitting a person in a white 
  overcoat who Brone assumed was of the scientist caste.
  “Scientist, where am I?” What Brone had intended to be a forceful command 
  came out instead as a whisper.
  The man turned, “Ah, good, you are awake.” He had the same features as many 
  Kuritans but that said little, so too did many Smoke Jaguars. “I will return shortly.” 
  He departed and moments later another person, this time a beautiful woman 
  with long black hair, entered the sparse recovery room. She brought with her the 
  faint scent of fl owers.
  “Mikki?”
  “Yes, love?” She smiled and kissed him on the forehead. The smell of cherry 
  blossoms was overwhelming. 
  “Where am I?” He croaked out the words, shaming himself with the feebleness 
  of his eff orts.
  “Hush, now. You have been through much.” She brought a fi nger to his lips. He 
  noticed she no longer wore her technician’s coveralls but instead wore a crisp 
  white uniform with red piping and gold epaulets. 
  He shook his head. I must know. “My command? My Clan? What has become of 
  them?” His need lent strength to his words.
  She frowned and shook her head, kissing him once more, “None of that matters 
  anymore. You are among your new Clan now.” She ran her 
  soft hands down his body and lifted his right 
  arm, directing his eyes to follow her hands. 
  Three strongly braided white cords, each 
  embossed with a Cameron star, circled 
  his wrist.
  “Welcome to the Star League.” She 
  smiled, and this time her eyes were 
  alight with joy. “Bondsman.”
  arm. The Kuritan pilot shrugged off  the damage then—amazingly—took to the 
  sky on jets of heated plasma. It landed directly in front of Brone’s Stormcrow and 
  raised its mailed fi st. 
  “Stravag!” Brone tried to reverse his direction, fi red all of his weapons, but was 
  too late. Nearly six tons of myomer, actuators and armor crashed into the side of 
  his ’Mech. His Stormcrow shook as armor was pulverized and internal supports 
  buckled under the tremendous impact. His lasers caught the Kuritan in its left 
  arm. Gouts of fi re exploded out of the assault ’Mech’s chest but Brone had no time 
  to process this turn of events.
  Warning chimes rang out: LRM launcher out of alignment; engine shielding 
  damaged; gyro housing cracked. He felt his ’Mech failing around him. He wanted 
  to arrest the fall, he wanted to fi ght back, but for some reason his body was not 
  responding to his commands. Why not? His mind—somehow detached from the 
  chaos—fi nally realized he must have bounced his helmeted head off  the cramped 
  canopy enclosing him. Odd, he hadn’t felt it. 
  As his head sagged to the side of his canopy he could have sworn he saw a 
  familiar Hatamoto-Chi striding through the pass, PPCs alight. Then everything 
  was black and peaceful.
  ▲▼▲
  He woke in room devoid of decoration. The walls were grey. The 
  sheets were white. An IV stuck out of his arm while a 
  monitor of some form linked his wrist to a large ovoid 
  machine which beeped at regular intervals. Where 
  in the name of Kerensky am I? Had they escaped? 
  Had his people rescued him? He did not recognize 
  his surroundings and Spartan as they were, they 
  certainly did not appear to be Clan in origin.
  He tried to rise, but failed. His body was not yet 
  ready to respond to his commands. I must have 
  suff ered a tremendous amount of feedback 
  to be in this sorry state. 
  them? His need lent strength to his words
  once more,
  our new C
  own his bo
  ing his eye
  ongly braid
  ed with a 
  st.
  elcome to 
  ed, and thi
  ht with joy
  ▲▼▲
  o
  s
  ed
  t 
  m
  m
  ar
  o 
  d
  m
  o
  them?  His need lent strength to his words.
  She frowned and shook her head, kissing him o
  anymore. You are among yo
  soft hands do
  arm, directi
  Three stro
  embosse
  his wris
  “We
  smile
  aligh
  ▲▼▲
  id of decoration. The walls were grey. The 
  stuck out of his arm while a
  d his wrist to a large ovoid 
  regular intervals. Where
  m I? Had they escaped? 
  ?
  m? He did not recognize 
  rtan as they were, they 
  be Clan in origin.
  d. His body was not yet
  mmands. I must have
  ount of feedback 
  ARTIST: EARL GEIER
  PUBLICATION: THE BATTLETECH COMPENDIUM
  YEAR: 1990
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  184
  
  C H E R R Y  B L O S S O M S
  ARTIST: STEVE VENTERS
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH REINFORCEMENTS 2
  YEAR: 1990
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  185
  
   
  ARTIST: LES DORSCHEID
  PUBLICATION: CHAOS MARCH
  YEAR: 1995
  YEAR: 1995
  YEAR: 1995
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  186
  
   
  ARTIST: LES DORSCHEID
  PUBLICATION: THE FALCON AND THE WOLF
  YEAR: 1995
  YEAR: 1995
  YEAR: 1995
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  187
  
   
  ARTIST: ALEX IGLESIAS
  PUBLICATION: MASTERS & MINIONS: THE STARCORPS DOSSIERS
  YEAR: 2009
  YEAR: 2009
  YEAR: 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  188
  
   
  ARTIST: MICHAEL KOMARCK
  PUBLICATION: SHADOWS OF FAITH (NOVEL)
  YEAR: FORTHCOMING
  YEAR: FORTHCOMING
  YEAR: FORTHCOMING
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  189
  
  F I R S T  C H A I R
  ARTIST: JOHN ZELEZNIK
  PUBLICATION: SOLARIS VII BOX SET
  YEAR: 1991
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  190
  
  F I R S T  C H A I R
  THE BLACK HILLS, SOLARIS CITY
  SOLARIS VII, SKYE MARCH
  FEDERATED COMMONWEALTH
  15 MARCH 3053 
  “No!”
  “What?”
  “Out.”
  “Why?”
  “You know damn well, ‘why,’ O’Shea.”
  “That?”
  “Yeah, that.”
  “I said I’d pay.”
  “That’s what you said, but that ain’t what happened.”
  “It’s happening now.”
  “Yeah?”
  “Yeah.”
  “How?”
  “I got a ride and a small advance.”
  “Who? Never mind. You got cash?”
  “Some.”
  “Out!”
  “I’ll cover his tab.”
  O’Shea glanced at the woman sitting alone at the bar. He’d seen her speak, but 
  she’d not bothered to turn and look as he argued with Davis at the Night Watch’s 
  front door. O’Shea fi gured Davis had a percentage, and didn’t like it when the 
  place got busted up. Bars across the Inner Sphere tended to get busted up, some 
  fatally, when O’Shea was in high spirits.
  “You got cash?”
  The woman took a long pull of a dark beer and nodded. Davis returned to his 
  stool near the door, looping the strap of his head knocker on its wooden peg. 
  O’Shea shook his head and walked past the doorman. Davis had tried the short 
  club on him a time or two until O’Shea had broken the last strap and cold cocked 
  the doorman.
  “I can’t believe he was going to try that again,” he said as he took the seat next 
  to the red-haired woman. Running a hand through his beard, O’Shea turned on 
  his biggest smile. “Badicus O’Shea, at your service.” 
  “Esmeralda,” she replied into her beer. 
  O’Shea ignored the rebuff  and moved his stool closer. “And to what to I owe the 
  pleasure of your company? My good looks? Charm? Perhaps my reputation has 
  preceded me?”
  “Carstairs.” Esmeralda fi nished her beer and waved at the bartender for another. 
  O’Shea nodded and turned to the bar, raising a fi nger. 
  “Oh, him. Come to keep tabs on me then? Protecting his new investment?” 
  O’Shea scowled. He’d fi nally gotten back into the command chair of a BattleMech, 
  and now it appeared his employer was going to take all the joy out of it. 
  It was the beginning of the season on Solaris VII, and excitement was high. 
  There was a world of opportunity awaiting an experienced pilot, and O’Shea had 
  just enough experience to consider himself really good. After two years clawing 
  his way up through the outlying arenas, he was fi nally with a stable in Solaris City. 
  All right, it wasn’t one of the class “A” stables, but he’d fi nally made it to the capital 
  and had his own ‘Mech. At least, he fi nally had an owner who was going to let him 
  pilot a BattleMech. It was almost the same thing. 
  “Nope,” Esmeralda replied. She nodded to the bartender as he set down the 
  two darks. “Glen Rhanna,” she said, “Bring the bottle.” 
  O’Shea was broken from his thoughts. “Well, Esmeralda, I don’t know who you 
  are, but I see you like the good stuff .”
  “I’m your new boss, that’s who I am.”
  O’Shea wasn’t often shocked, but his jaw almost hit the bar. Worse, he almost 
  spilled his drink. Setting the heavy mug down, he turned to stare at the woman 
  beside him. 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  191
  SOLARIS VII
  World Name:
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  Position in System:
  Time to Jump Point:
  Number of Satellites:
  Surface Gravity:
  Atm. Pressure:
  Equatorial Temperature:
  Surface Water:
  Recharging Station:
  HPG Class Type:
  Highest Native Life:
  Population (3053):
  Socio-Industrial Levels:
  Rich in minerals and water, though often gloomy because 
  of its turbulent seas and atmosphere, Solaris VII became a 
  thriving industrial colony soon after it was ﬁ rst settled, with 
  most people ﬂ ocking to the industrial centers on the Greyland 
  continent. Originally claimed by the Free Worlds League, this 
  planet easily transferred its loyalty to the Lyran Commonwealth 
  during the Succession Wars. House Marik was a sore loser and 
  bombarded the planet with nuclear weapons, leaving it horribly 
  scarred for decades. Since then, the locals have harbored a 
  simmering hatred for the League, a hatred that only abates in 
  Solaris City itself. In this open capital, all nationalities can interact 
  peacefully—theoretically, anyway.
  Solaris VII became known as the Game World during the Star 
  League era, when its BattleMech factories used pre-selected 
  areas on the continents of Greyland and Equatus (the less 
  developed continent) for live-ﬁ re weapons testing. As more and 
  more companies sought the publicity (and media royalties) of this 
  testing, the weapon testing involved into combat matches and 
  betting. These gladiatorial combats are the hallmark of Solaris 
  VII today.
  s
  l
  e
  r
  m
  r
  b
  n
  e
  t
  s
  c
  o
  u
   
  h
  a
  a
  .
  a
  m
  e
  t
  r
  l
  O
  e
  y
  t
  g
  f
  e
  e
  s
  o
  n
  r
   
  d
  o
  N
  s
  i
  W
  a
  e
  G
  J
  e
  a
  L
  e
  w
  e
  e
  e
  t
  h
  c
  r
  g
  ﬂ 
  t
  n
  n
  r
  3
  v
  y
  S
  e
  e
  r
  v
  a
  p
  y
  e
  :
  A
  n
  n
  m
  t
  n
  d
  a
  s
  f
  l
  n
  e
  s
  L
  3
  i
  o
  e
  i
  m
  a
  I
  n
  n
  y
  s
  t
  S
  W
  e
  a
  o
  n
  a
  d
  s
  u
  :
  T
  o
  l
  y
  n
  L
  e
  s
  s 
  d
  e
  o
  a
  e
  V
  r
  e
  h
  .
  p
  u
  e
  e
  o
  a
  u
  o
  n
  a
  a
  h
  w
  M
  o
  a
  r
  e
  u
  a
  r
  a
  r
  o
  p
  k
   
  e
  w
  o
  E
  u
  r
  a
  h
  s
  a
  o
  s
  ﬁ
   
  t
   
  u
  s
  o
  e
  v
  o
  V
  o
  (
  -
  n
  a
  r
  t
  o
  o
  g
  l
  e
  c
  S
  e
  e
  e
  r
  e
  y
  m
  a
  of its turbulent seas and atmosphere, Solaris VII became a 
  most people ﬂocking to the industrial centers on the Greyland
  g
  y
  y
  g
  simmering hatred for the League a hatred that only abates in
  s
  during the Succession Wars House Marik was a sore loser and
  d
  l
  h
  ll
  f
  Solaris VII became known as the Game World during the Star
  S
  th
  ti
  t
  f G
  l
  d
  d E
  t
  (th
  l
  Socio Industrial Levels:
  S
  Highest Native Life:
  S
  f
  W t
  S
  Atm. Pressure:
  Ti
  t
  J
  P i t
  T
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  S
  SOLARIS VII
  FIRST CHAIR
  J I M  L O N G
  
  F I R S T  C H A I R
  “You’ve been on Solaris for three years, two of them among the outlying arenas. 
  You’ve got a solid reputation, but you imagine it’s better than it really is. Now 
  you’re in the city for the fi rst time, and you think you’ve got the world by the tail, 
  but you’ve never fought at this level and your time in the service hasn’t prepared 
  you for what you’re about to face.”
  “So, what am I about to face?”
  “Me,” Esmeralda replied simply. 
  “So, what happens next?” O’Shea felt the adrenaline rise as Esmeralda recounted 
  his history. He had to admit, she knew him well. A small part of him actually agreed 
  with what she was saying, but that wasn’t going to stop him from saying or acting 
  like he damn well pleased. This woman seemed to have a lot of answers and she 
  certainly had him, at least partially, fi gured out.
  “Now I’m going to hit you over the head with this bottle of Glen Rhanna. The 
  best single malts always come in a thick bottle, so it might not break. Tomorrow 
  morning we’ll consider your placement at the stable, and whether Mr. 
  Carstairs made a good decision hiring you.
  It seemed like a precious waste of scotch, but it was her tab. 
  O’Shea glanced at the bottle. “Take your best—”
  The woman kicked out with her right foot, not at O’Shea, 
  but his stool. She had no leverage and no power, but the 
  nearside legs caved in, throwing O’Shea off  balance for a 
  moment. He fell toward Esmeralda, but was regaining 
  his balance as she turned and actually leaned into 
  him. He hadn’t considered that. Could she have 
  somehow sabotaged the legs of the stool?
  The thought came and went in an instant. 
  His hands moved to defend against a knee 
  or fi st, but neither attack came. Instead 
  Esmeralda allowed O’Shea’s to fall 
  face fi rst into her ample chest. The 
  distraction was minor, but enough. 
  Esmeralda’s right hand clamped on 
  the back of his head, keeping him 
  close. Pain exploded through his 
  body, centering behind his right 
  ear. Esmeralda let him go and 
  stepped away as he crumpled 
  to one knee. Blood dripped into 
  his beard and his vision began to 
  contract. With a snarl, he fought 
  to retain consciousness.
  He could barely lift his head. All 
  O’Shea could see was Esmeralda from 
  the knees down and the partially sawn legs 
  of his stool. She had great calves and narrow, delicate knees. Despite himself, 
  or because of it, he bellowed and slammed down with his left fi st on the arch 
  of Esmeralda’s right foot instead of striking the knee. She was right, he’d been 
  though rehab and didn’t wish that on anybody, especially not in a friendly fi ght 
  like this.
  The boot toe may have been steel, but the shoe was only leather. There was a 
  loud pop and Esmeralda crumpled into the bar. O’Shea staggered back to his feet, 
  using the bar for balance. He shook his head, fl inging blood. He didn’t have to see 
  or touch the wound to know he’d need stitches. Probably a lot of them.
  He’d barely regained his footing when Esmeralda jabbed at him with her left 
  hand. O’Shea caught the fl ash of a knuckle duster before the sharp pain burst in 
  his mouth. No wonder he was leaking so much blood. Years of brawling taught 
  him how to take the punch. His head didn’t snap back, so he didn’t get knocked 
  out. His lip paid the price, splitting wide open in a shower of blood. It may have 
  also cost him a tooth, but he couldn’t immediately tell. He snapped out with an 
  open hand, slamming the striking wrist with the outside of his hand as Esmeralda 
  pulled back from the blow. It didn’t break the wrist, but it deadened the hand.
  O’Shea spit blood and smiled through red teeth. “Is that all you got?”
  “Nope.” Esmeralda stepped forward, swinging the bottle of Glen Rhanna in a 
  roundhouse blow. O’Shea almost missed the attack, but ducked in plenty of time to 
  avoid the blow. Unfortunately, her broken foot didn’t hold, and Esmeralda lurched 
  forward. The roundhouse that should have passed over his head descended with 
  In profi le she was, well, pretty much the embodiment of his dreams. She was 
  big, like him, with a muscular build. She wore technician’s shorts and a work shirt 
  that was stretched out in all the right places. She was a bit older than him, with 
  wrinkles around the eyes and at the corner of the mouth, but there wasn’t a speck 
  of grey in her hair. She took a pull of her beer and let O’Shea continue to stare.
  Well, he thought, she moves like a MechWarrior. No wasted movement; easily 
  poised on the stool. Her physique suggested a heavy or assault ‘Mech, but that 
  was stereotyping and O’Shea knew that was wrong—and could get him killed. 
  His mind wandered as he continued to 
  stare. Another Warrior. Could he 
  take her? Was she serious? Was 
  she a fi ghter? A leader?
  O’Shea snorted and turned 
  to his beer. “My left teat. I 
  just signed on with Carstairs 
  Stables. He’s my new boss, 
  not some barroom hottie 
  who’s off ered to cover my 
  tab.” He took a long pull 
  and considered his so-called 
  new employer. “By this time 
  tomorrow I’ll have the rest of 
  those ‘Mech jockeys following my 
  lead. I’ll be fi rst chair by the end of 
  the week, mark my words.” 
  He took another deep pull from the 
  mug to punctuate his plan, which seemed 
  perfectly reasonable.
  O’Shea had a gift. Several actually. He could 
  make friends wherever he went and under 
  almost any condition. People just naturally liked 
  him. He was a bit ‘rough and tumble,’ as his ma used to 
  say, but that was just part of the charm. He stood straight 
  and snapped to when the brass was about, but when the 
  shit went down, the men always looked to him for advice and 
  leadership. He was steadfast and reliant, just the type of personality 
  people came to count on when the chips were down. Carstairs Stables 
  would be no diff erent. While his career on Solaris hadn’t been anything to 
  brag about just yet (although he’d certainly done more than his fair share of 
  boasting, none the less), he had good skills and was an excellent teammate despite 
  the bravado. Perhaps because of it. He’d never actually held a lead position, but he 
  was feeling good tonight, and anything seemed possible. 
  “And the current fi rst chair?” she asked.
  “Bah,” he replied after another hearty swallow. “There’s always second chair. 
  Besides, I’m sure he won’t mind. It takes the pressure off  him, if you know what I 
  mean.”
  “I was afraid you’d say something like that.” There was an edge in her voice, 
  making O’Shea pause in mid-swallow. Esmeralda stood on the rails of her stool, 
  partially rising as she reached into the deep front pocket of her shorts. Pulling out 
  a carefully folded stack of D-bills, she fl ipped out several 100s, placed them on the 
  bar, and slipped the rest of the stack back into the pocket.
  “My tab wasn’t nearly that high,” he commented as he went back to the beer. 
  Tomorrow was going to be diffi  cult. Nothing like getting on the Captain’s bad side 
  to make a new posting seem like hell.
  “It will be after tonight.” O’Shea choked on his beer, actually spilling some on 
  his shirt. 
  “Oh, you can’t be serious,” he said with a half-smile. “I’m bigger than you, faster 
  than you, and while you might be older, I’m more experienced.” He snorted. “Sit 
  down before you embarrass yourself.”
  “Mr. O’Shea,’ the woman replied, “you don’t know me. I, however, know you. 
  You’re left-handed, but I’m sitting on your right. You’ve got a rebuilt knee, the 
  right one. You’ve got a skull as thick as a Nighbor Ox, and you’re lighting fast with 
  your fi sts or your pistol, which you’ve sensibly left at home.”
  O’Shea released the mug and turned toward Esmeralda, glaring at her. There 
  was no mistaking the challenge in her voice, but it was the strangest one he’d ever 
  heard. She hadn’t even turned to face him.
  with what she was saying, but that wasn t goi
  like he damn well pleased. This woman seem
  certainly had him, at least partially, fi gured ou
  “Now I’m going to hit you over the head w
  best single malts always come in a thick bot
  morning we’ll consider your placeme
  Carstairs made a good decision hiri
  It seemed like a precious w
  O’Shea glanced at the bottl
  The woman kicked ou
  but his stool. She had 
  nearside legs caved 
  moment. He fell t
  his balance as 
  him. He had
  somehow 
  The th
  His ha
  or fi 
  Esm
  fa
  e 
  of 
  m the 
  eemed
  y. He could 
  t and under 
  t naturally liked 
  e,’ as his ma used to
  arm. He stood straight 
  was about, but when the 
  ooked to him for advice and 
  iant, just the type of personality 
  chips were down. Carstairs Stables 
  reer on Solaris hadn’t been anything to
  certainly done more than his fair share of 
  od skills and was an excellent teammate despite 
  He’d never actually held a lead position, but he
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  192
  
  F I R S T  C H A I R
  ARTIST: DOUG CHAFFEE
  PUBLICATION: MAPPACK: SOLARIS VII
  YEAR: 2004
  ARTIST: DOUG CHAFFEE
  PUBLICATION: MAPPACK: SOLARIS VII
  YEAR: 2004
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  193
  
  F I R S T  C H A I R
  the ‘Mech’s shoulder, “fi xing” the AC/20 with a 30-pound Presslite Spanner applied 
  repeatedly to the ammunition feed. He quickly learned to leave her alone during 
  such repair sessions.
  Unfortunately, O’Shea’s ‘Mech was the worst of the lot. As near as he could 
  tell, the Commando was even older than the Hunchback. There was evidence 
  of an ammunition explosion, and how the chassis had survived such an event 
  was beyond O’Shea. Everything in the ‘Mech was subtly warped or off -plumb. 
  It was the founding ‘Mech of the stable and reportedly held a soft sport 
  in Carstairs’ heart, but O’Shea doubted the man had such an organ. 
  Selling it was; however, out of the question, so Shayne and 
  O’Shea spent most of their time trying to get it working. As 
  such, due to the extensive damage and generations of repair, 
  everything needed to be crafted or modifi ed by hand to 
  make it work. After three weeks, they’d managed to fi re 
  up the engine. O’Shea considered it the high spot of the 
  week, until he tried to take a step forward and had the 
  left leg lock up from the hip to the ankle. He’s managed 
  to keep the Commando, which he’d secretly dubbed ‘the Evil’ from 
  crashing through the wall, but he’d destroyed the only portable 
  generator in the stable, sending Carstairs into a fi t. He had 
  no doubt his next check would contain an inappropriate 
  deduction.
  As his third week came to a close, O’Shea was in a 
  comfortable groove of long days of work and short nights 
  with Esmeralda at the corner pub. While their relationship 
  had remained purely professional, O’Shea envisioned a 
  time when that would change. 
  After a short Friday, Esmeralda called O’Shea and Shayne 
  into her offi  ce. The converted storage locker was piled 
  high with neatly categorized parts and equipment. While 
  overstuff ed, it was orderly and O’Shea had no doubt 
  whatsoever that Esmeralda could place her hands on 
  any requested item in the room in seconds. When the 
  men arrived she was scowling, so O’Shea prepared for 
  the worst. If Shayne read her mood, he didn’t show it. Even 
  after working together for three weeks, O’Shea still didn’t have 
  a good feeling for his fellow pilot.
  The man seemed reasonable enough. He was not terribly 
  knowledgeable about the technical side, but he worked when 
  asked. He had no experience in the arena, but had somehow 
  landed a job inside the city with no credentials. O’Shea 
  considered him terribly young, but in truth he was probably 
  only a couple of years younger than himself. He could quote 
  chapter and verse of the games, matches and his heroes 
  from years gone by, but he seemed extremely naïve 
  about the truth of BattleMech combat. He was still in 
  his “noble warfare” phase of being a pilot that most 
  MechWarriors grew out of after their fi rst combat. 
  O’Shea wondered if Shayne would ever understand it 
  as a grim, deadly business.
  Esmeralda pulled out a bottle and three mismatched 
  glasses. It was the same bottle of Glen Rhanna she’d used on his 
  head the night of their fi rst meeting. Although it was more than half 
  gone, O’Shea was glad to see his commander wasn’t the type to 
  drink alone. He and Shayne had helped reduce the scotch to its 
  current state. 
  She poured a couple of fi ngers worth into three glasses and 
  stopped the bottle. “To fallen friends,” she said, raising the glass 
  to her lips. O’Shea and Shayne repeated the customary toast 
  and followed suit. Cradling the glass in her lap, Esmeralda 
  leaned back and regarded the two men.
  “You know I’m not much for ceremony, so I’ll keep this 
  meeting short and sweet. 
  “First the good news. Carstairs has been working like a fi end to 
  line up as many matches as possible. That’s good, because we’re 
  not getting paid to be technicians. The bonus will come in handy, 
  her, hitting O’Shea on the top of his head. Both MechWarriors crashed to the fl oor, 
  Esmeralda driving the air from O’Shea’s lungs as she fell on top of him. By the time 
  he got his breath back, O’Shea was pinned under her as she sat on his chest.
  “I promised you I was going to hit you with this bottle, but that tap hardly 
  counts.”
  He struggled, but had no leverage to move. Instead 
  he grabbed the only thing he could fi nd, her butt, and 
  dug his fi ngers into the muscle. Esmeralda gasped and 
  stiff ened. 
  “You’ll fi nd I’m not such an easy target,” he whispered 
  through clenched teeth.
  “Ass. Who do you think recommended you for the job in 
  the fi rst place?”
  O’Shea paused, slightly releasing his grip. His last thought 
  as the bottle came down toward his head was, I think I’m 
  in love.
  ▲▼▲
  Despite a “mild” concussion, O’Shea arrived at the 
  stables the next morning precisely on time. A single 
  travel bag held his few possessions. Esmeralda met him at the 
  front door, and although her foot was heavily bandaged, she 
  walked without a crutch or cane. O’Shea saluted, but Esmeralda 
  held out her hand instead. With the handshake, last night’s 
  events seemed to be forgotten.
  Introductions were quick. Esmeralda served as chief 
  technician, chief mechanic and fi rst chair for the small stable, 
  sliding from role to role as needed. There was a lot of need. The 
  only other pilot was Henry Shayne; a small man O’Shea had a 
  hard time reading. There were two technicians and a handful 
  of support personnel, but they mostly left the MechWarriors 
  to themselves. Esmeralda, Shayne and O’Shea ended up 
  spending quite a bit of time together in the fi rst few weeks. 
  Despite O’Shea’s earlier assumptions, life in the big city was 
  much like the outlying stables. The quarters were nicer, but 
  just barely. He had a single room apartment near the stables, in the same 
  building as Esmeralda. He got up early and went downstairs, but he 
  was rarely there before Esmeralda. The two would walk the 
  short distance to the ‘Mech bays and spend all day knee-deep 
  in ‘Mech parts, trying to get Carstairs’ three BattleMechs up 
  to speed. 
  Shayne was the pilot of a Wolf Trap. The 45-ton ‘Mech 
  was easily the most serviceable of the three. According 
  to Esmeralda, Carstairs had shown up at the stable one 
  morning smiling like the proverbial fox. As the man 
  rarely muddied his hands in the actual work of the stable 
  or the warriors, Esmeralda was on guard for something 
  unusual when the ‘Mech was delivered several hours 
  later. Although it arrived in pieces, the breaks were 
  ‘clean’ and the component damage relatively light. 
  Most of the work could be done by the techs, leaving her 
  and the two men to focus on the real headaches.
  Esmeralda’s ‘Mech was an ancient Hunchback. The design was 
  considered a classic, but O’Shea swore this model must have been 
  the fi rst one out of the factory. Nothing seemed to work properly. 
  While the structure and armor was solid, the electronics were a 
  tech’s nightmare. At some point a previous owner had rewired 
  the main chassis using a Frankenstein’s nightmare of salvaged 
  parts. Everything could be made to work, but just barely and not 
  consistently. Esmeralda had wanted the entire system rewired, but 
  the downtime and cost would be immense and Carstairs refused to 
  authorize it. As long as the ‘Mech could walk and fi re, everything 
  would be fi ne, he argued. Esmeralda fussed, fumed and 
  threatened, but Carstairs refused to budge. “Make it work,” was 
  his only advice. O’Shea frequently saw Esmeralda perched high on 
   fe
  ma
  edg
  He
   a
  ere
  cou
  ter
  om
  ab
  his
  Me
  O’S
  s a
  Esm
  as 
  ht 
  a w
  e. H
  ate.
  ure
  the
  ps. 
  ow
  bac
  kno
  ho
  he g
  line up as m
  sta
  wn
  wa
  ee
  ec
  Me
  din
  ne
  an 
  le 
  g 
  rs 
  e 
  ht. 
  he
  de
  st h
  ork
  on
  h
  e o
  ba
  m 
  airs
  , e
  fum
  t work,” was 
  a good
  The 
  knowle
  asked. 
  landed
  conside
  only a c
  chapt
  fr
  a
  O
  a
  glasses. It wa
  head the nig
  gone, O’She
  drink alone
  current sta
  She pou
  stopped t
  to her lip
  and follo
  leaned b
  “You k
  meeting s
  “First th
  li
  ables, in the same
  stairs, but he
  alk the 
  e-deep 
  chs up 
  ech 
  g 
  e
  er 
  esign was 
  have been 
  k properly.
  ics were a
  ad rewired 
  of salvaged 
  rely and not 
  rewired, but
  s refused to 
  verything
  med and 
  k”
  Unfortunately, O’Shea’s ‘Mech
  tell, the Commando was even o
  osion, an
  Everythin
  ng ‘Mech
  heart, bu
  t was; h
  ea spent 
  , due to t
  everythi
  make it 
  up the e
  week, u
  left leg lo
  he Comm
  ng throug
  erator in 
  doubt h
  duction.
  As his th
  omfortabl
  with Esme
  ad remai
  me when
  After a s
  to her o
  igh with 
  overstuff 
  whatsoe
  any requ
  men arri
  he worst. 
  king
  h this bottle, but that tap hardly 
  ve. Instea
  butt, and
  ped and
  hispered
  r the job
  ast thoug
  I think I’m
  at the 
  A single
  met him a
  bandaged
  but Esme
  ke, last n
  ved as 
  e small st
  ot of need
   O’Shea 
  and a h
  MechWa
  ea ended
  few wee
  e big city
  ere n
  he wo
  ork
  city
  nice
  after wo
  er, but 
  of an ammunition explo
  was beyond O’Shea. 
  It was the foundi
  in Carstairs’ h
  Selling it
  O’She
  such
  to keep th
  crashin
  gene
  no 
  ded
  A
  co
  w
  ha
  tim
  int
  h
  o
  th
  ad 
  d 
   
   
   in 
  ght 
  m 
  at the 
  d, she 
  eralda
  night’s 
  chief 
  table, 
  d. The 
  had a 
  andful 
  arriors 
  d up 
  eks. 
  y was
  th
  y was
  ft
  b t
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: CLASSIC BATTLETECH: A GAME OF 
  ARMORED COMBAT
  YEAR: 2002
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  194
  
  F I R S T  C H A I R
  for the match?”
  Esmeralda reached for the bottle and poured a double measure before passing 
  it on. “Polish, mostly. We’ve got a new actuator for the right ankle. That needs to 
  be installed and tested.” She paused and stared up at the ceiling. “The primary 
  cooling array needs a test. The heat pumps in the third and fourth heat sinks 
  aren’t running properly, but that’s about it. We just need to kick the tires and light 
  the fi res.”
  O’Shea knew the work was easy, but critical. He followed Esmeralda’s gaze out 
  the main door. “He’s young and foolish. This will pass.”
  Esmeralda sighed. “Yeah, but it was still a crappy thing to do. I tried to get 
  Carstairs to delay the match, even for 24 hours, but he wouldn’t have it. I know 
  it’s the right thing to do, but to lose your ride like that, even for a couple of days, 
  well, it sucks.”
  O’Shea nodded. No matter who ‘owned’ a BattleMech, there was a special bond 
  between the ‘Mech and the pilot that transcended mere matters of ownership 
  and title. Warriors put much of their psyche and soul into their machine, and came 
  to view it as an extension of themselves. That was why the Dispossessed were so 
  pitied. Losing a ‘Mech, even for a couple of days, was hard, especially when it was 
  going to battle and you were not.
  “He’ll get over it.” O’Shea reconsidered. “Will the old man back your decision?”
  Esmeralda nodded. “Hell, Carstairs demanded I take the match before I could 
  get a word in, so I don’t think there are any issues there.”
  “So, are we going to dig right in or get an early start tomorrow?”
  “Tomorrow. Tonight I have some serious drinking to do. After that it will time to 
  get our game face on and get ready for the match.”
  O’Shea tipped his glass and returned it to the desk. “You’re in luck, because I’m 
  just the man for both jobs.”
  ▲▼▲
  When O’Shea awoke the next day, he was in unfamiliar ground. The quarters 
  looked similar to his, but they were not. He was mostly dressed, but his shirt was 
  missing several buttons and he could not fi nd his left boot. After adjusting his kilt, 
  he carefully regarded his surroundings and realized, somewhat abashedly, that 
  he was in Esmeralda’s apartment. 
  He found her, still asleep, in the quarter’s only bed. His head was throbbing 
  to an invisible drummer, but the sight of Esmeralda in the small bed almost 
  banished the hangover. For a moment he considered joining her as she slept au 
  natural, but he stopped and tiptoed back into the only other room. He quietly 
  let himself out and was delighted to discover his boot in the hallway, two shirt 
  buttons inside. Hopping down the hall as he put on the boot, he beat a hasty 
  retreat to the landing and the stairwell. 
  He beat Esmeralda to the stable, but not Shayne. The young man was hanging 
  near the doors when he arrived. 
  “Reconsider?” O’Shea asked simply as he worked the keys to the personnel 
  door.
  “Yeah. I was a bit hasty yesterday.” O’Shea didn’t really believe the man was truly 
  repentant, but he took the admission at face value. 
  “So, did you talk to the stable master?” O’Shea opened the door and let Shayne 
  enter fi rst.
  The young man chuckled. “Something like that.” O’Shea let it go and crossed to 
  the Wolf Trap. He really didn’t know the ‘Mech well and wondered where to start, 
  but Henry had a suggestion. “The techs can handle the actuator while we work 
  on the cooling system. That will take more time anyway. Numbers three and four 
  keep going off  line, but I think these new parts will solve the issue.” He crossed to 
  the storage area where several crates were secured under lock and key. If we get 
  going, we can pull the old parts before everybody else is here and be ready for the 
  replacement when the key arrives to open the storage area.”
  “Sounds like a plan to me,” O’Shea replied, “but fi rst we need to get some 
  caff eine brewing and I’ll be taking a quick tour of the medicine cabinet for some 
  pain pills.”
  Shayne laughed. “See you up top.”
  The two worked until Esmeralda and the techs arrived later that morning. True 
  to his suggestion, O’Shea and Shayne had the old parts removed when Esmeralda 
  opened the supplies. Putting the parts in proved to be a bit more complex than 
  taking the old ones out.
  especially if, or when, we win.
  “I won’t sugarcoat it, we’re in for a hell of a ride. We’ve got three ‘Mechs and three 
  pilots. Carstairs has us fi ghting at least once per week in a variety of engagements 
  all across town. One thing we will not lack is exposure to the media and the other 
  stables.”
  She sipped again, before continuing. “Now the bad news. I’m sure you’ve 
  fi gured out that with a heavy schedule like that we were going to have trouble 
  keeping the ‘Mechs upright, let alone arena-ready.” O’Shea had already fi gured it 
  out, but was pretty certain Shayne had not a fl ipping clue. “The ugly truth is that 
  we’re going to get beaten up and, even if we win, we’re going to have to climb 
  back into the saddle for more. We don’t have the staff  to do that. 
  “I’ve convinced Carstairs that we need some more support staff  and another 
  pilot to serve as back up. Neither is really an issue this early in the season, so that 
  should be covered. There will be a string of folks in here for the next couple of days. 
  O’Shea, I want you in on the process when we talk to the techs. You don’t seem to 
  be completely stupid in that regard and another opinion is always good.” 
  O’Shea smiled and raised his glass at the backhanded compliment. He knew 
  the bad news was still coming.
  “Our fi rst match is in two days. It’s a straight forward challenge match, one-
  on-one, at medium class. Carstairs won’t let us even interview for a backup pilot 
  until we win our fi rst match. We all know that might be too late. With his schedule, 
  we need that pilot now for training and integration into the team. Besides, good 
  pilots will become a hot commodity when damage starts to build up.” O’Shea saw 
  the value in getting the pilot now, but he didn’t share their leader’s opinion. He 
  glanced at Shayne to see if he could read the man’s opinion, but the youngster 
  was practically bouncing in his chair. O’Shea listened to Esmeralda, but kept an 
  eye on Shayne.
  “We need to win this fi rst match and win it with as little damage as possible. 
  Normally I’d take the Hunchback, but I still don’t trust that ammo feed and until 
  I get replacement parts, it’s sidelined. O’Shea, you’re ride is, I’m guessing, about 
  fi ve days away from being arena ready. That leaves us with only one choice; the 
  Wolf Trap.”
  “Yes!” Shayne exploded out of the chair, spilling most of his drink on O’Shea. “I 
  knew it, I knew it. My fi rst combat. Don’t worry, Esmeralda, I’ll win that fi ght. You 
  can count on that. And we’ll get that new pilot.” Shayne nearly hugged himself, 
  he was so happy. O’Shea almost smiled at the youth’s naïve display, but he didn’t. 
  He’d already caught Esmeralda’s eye and knew what was coming next.
  “Shayne, I’m sorry, but I’ll be piloting the Wolf Trap.” Shayne froze like he’d taken 
  a PPC to the head. 
  “What?”
  “This fi ght is too important. Whether Carstairs understands it or not, if we lose 
  this fi ght, our season is pretty much over. Our best ‘Mech will be damaged, maybe 
  even fatally. That puts too much of a load on the rest of the team.”
  “No.”
  “Yes. Carstairs has already made the down payments for the upcoming matches. 
  If we forfeit or don’t have ‘Mechs to fi ll the duals, he’ll lose the deposit and we’ll 
  likely lose the stable. It’s a rookie mistake, but hell, he’s a rookie manager. We need 
  to start with a win. I’m the best pilot and I have the most experience, but that 
  doesn’t even matter. I’m the boss here and I’m telling you what’s going to happen. 
  This meeting is purely informational; I’m taking the Wolf Trap into the arena in 
  two nights. Now you can help make that happen, or you can get the hell out of 
  the way.”
  “He wouldn’t do that.” 
  “He did and it’s done.” 
  “No, no, NO!” Shayne threw his glass at Esmeralda, but he was so enraged, the 
  missile came nowhere near her. As he stepped forward, O’Shea intervened. 
  “It’s just one match, Henry. You’ll be in the arena within a week.” For a moment 
  O’Shea was sure the smaller man was going to take out his frustration with a 
  swing at him, but a spark of sanity returned. 
  “Piss off , both of you.” Shayne turned on his heel and left the offi  ce with a stiff -
  legged shuffl  e. By the time he got to the main doors, he was almost running from 
  the stables.
  O’Shea let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Ah, youthful 
  exuberance. It’ll be the death of us all.”
  Esmeralda snorted. “Treachery, more likely.”
  O’Shea smiled, but nodded. “As you say. So what do we need to do to get ready 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  195
  
  F I R S T  C H A I R
  is greedy and maybe a bit desperate, but he’s not a fool. He’s probably getting 
  rewarded somehow for all of this. My contacts at the arena say it’s a ‘fair fi ght’ 
  which just means we’re in the same general weight class. The bookies are going 
  crazy with odds, all the way from 4:1 against to 7:5 for me to last.”
  “Last?”
  “As we’re the lightweight, they’re running all sorts of side bets. Nobody expects 
  us to win, so the real action is on how long we last.”
  “Damn.”
  “And Carstairs…”
  Esmeralda nearly exploded. “He expects us to survive, make the match last at 
  least 3 minutes, and win.”
  O’Shea let out a slow whistle.  “That’s a tall order.”
  Esmeralda laughed mirthlessly. “We do have one thing on our side,” she replied 
  as she dug the wounded foot into the other boot. With a slight grunt she got the 
  heavy boot seated over the bandages. “We’re allowed to have one comms rider up 
  in the booth. I gather the arena is fairly open, so there’s nothing to give away from 
  a bird’s eye view. I suspect that a second set of eyes on the pilot’s communication 
  channel is supposed to lengthen the match. Carstairs didn’t understand how 
  valuable something like that would be, or he’d have told us about it on Friday.”
  “How did Carstairs get into this business when he seems to know so damn little 
  about it?”
  Esmeralda sighed. “From what I can gather, he married most of his money.” 
  O’Shea cocked his eyebrow as Esmeralda continued. “He has a head for business, 
  which caught the eye of his future father-in-law, although I gather the old man 
  had a strictly fi nancial relationship in mind. Anyway, daddy dies soon after the 
  wedding, and Carstairs fi nds himself with limited access to his wife’s trust. He’s 
  parlayed a small fortune into, well, not much yet, but he’s got potential. He 
  seems to be in this for the long haul and he’s spent most of his time, eff ort, and 
  funds on building the stable to this point. Make no mistake; Carstairs is strictly 
  a businessman. He really doesn’t know much about the business of running a 
  stable from the BattleMech side of things. That’s where I come in. Carstairs is a 
  promoter, hustler, and wheeler-dealer who can line up matches, promote them, 
  and build up hype. And I have to admit he’s done a great job of that so far.”
  O’Shea nodded. Although he didn’t have much time to watch the vids, he knew 
  the match was receiving quite a bit of publicity. 
  “Mind you,” Esmeralda continued, “he’s done this in absence of any real 
  understanding of what it takes to deliver on all of that hype. Despite our 
  conversations, he doesn’t really understand that the Wolf Trap is the only ’Mech 
  we have that can enter the arena. Ultimately, he doesn’t even care about that. 
  He expects the fi ght to happen so he can continue promoting and building up 
  the stable. Cash is short and now his wife and her accountants are starting to 
  apply pressure. It’s time to start seeing a return on those funds.” She paused for a 
  moment, before continuing, “I think that’s where Shayne came in.”
  “Eh? How could that matter?”
  Esmeralda laughed and shook her head. “Did you do any research, at all, before 
  you signed up? Never mind, I know the answer. Shayne is actually Carstair’s wife’s 
  nephew. Evidently the kid bought into the stable with more trust fund D-bills and 
  hope, and Carstair’s promise, that we’d somehow turn him into a MechWarrior. 
  His funds are probably paying our salaries and these parts until we can win 
  something back.”
  “Ahhh, I see.”
  “I doubt it, but you’ve got the basic picture now. Study it later, because we’ve 
  got work to do. Get over there, get patched in and get ready to roll. I’ve got 
  nobody else that I can trust to help out.” When O’Shea didn’t move, she moved 
  to push him out of the offi  ce. Instead, there was a muffl  ed pop and Esmeralda fell 
  into his arms with a sharp breath. O’Shea managed to catch her as she fell heavily 
  against him. Without thinking he turned the catch into a carry, sweeping her off  
  her feet and into his arms. Fortunately he was strong enough to carry her, but he 
  wouldn’t be able to do so for long.
  “Put me down, you damn ox. I’m not some baby.”
  O’Shea moved to the short couch and gingerly placed her down. Beads of 
  perspiration had broken out on her lip and forehead and the color in her face had 
  drained away.
  “Get the boot off  or they’ll have to cut it off ,” she said through gritted teeth. 
  O’Shea undid the bindings and tried to remove the boot, but Esmeralda went stiff  
  at the fi rst motion. 
  Civilians viewed the cooling system as one large integrated unit, but in most 
  ‘Mechs it was much more complex. An individual heat sink was actually made up 
  of several components, like pumps to circulate coolant to hot spots, like myomers, 
  engines, and weapons; a radiator to dump the heat from the coolant outside the 
  ‘Mech; and a heat pump to ensure that the heat exchange was one way, even in 
  the hottest of deserts. It was a fundamental system and essentially one of the 
  more “simple” components of a BattleMech, but O’Shea had very little knowledge 
  about them. Fortunately, Henry was well informed, keeping up a string of chatter 
  as he worked through the morning and afternoon. By dinner they had completed 
  the heat pump replacement and the testing. 
  O’Shea remained on the gantry when Shayne fi nally went to talk with 
  Esmeralda. If she felt awkward about the night before, she didn’t show it in the 
  few times they’d been together during the day. When Shayne joined him at the 
  Wolf Trap again, he wore a ready smile. Evidentially everything was all patched 
  up with Esmeralda. Although the ripples might take a while to calm, O’Shea was 
  convinced that with a victory tomorrow, the team would be back on track and all 
  would be forgiven. Toward the end of the day, arena offi  cials came by to perform 
  the preliminary inspection of the Wolf Trap. Far from ensuring that everything 
  was permissible, they wanted to be sure that ‘Mech would provide a capable 
  challenge. If not, the BattleMech would be scratched from the match. 
  ▲▼▲
  Sunday was as tense as any pre-match O’Shea could remember. Esmeralda 
  drove the techs hard all morning, individually inspecting every round before 
  it went into the ammo hoppers. She checked and rechecked the systems until 
  O’Shea was certain she would start wearing out parts simply by testing them. 
  Just after lunch, she received a package by private courier, followed by arena 
  offi  cials who came to certify and retrieve the BattleMech. The certifi cation process 
  was over quickly. O’Shea worked with the referees while Esmeralda reviewed the 
  contents of the mysterious package. When they fi nished he went to the offi  ce and 
  knocked once before barging in. The sight inside stopped him cold.
  Esmeralda was dressing to pilot the Wolf Trap to the arena. When O’Shea 
  entered, she was wearing nothing but the shorts most pilots wore. She was 
  partially into her cooling vest, which would have saved some modesty, but not 
  quite. Heavy boots sat next to the chair.
  “Close the damn door and your mouth, you fool. You’ve seen me in less.”
  I have? Damn, why don’t I remember? For the fi rst time in his life O’Shea actually 
  considered swearing off  strong drink. The vow was cut short by Esmeralda’s 
  shimmy into the vest.
  “The door. Shut the damn door.” O’Shea stepped inside and closed the door. 
  The offi  ce suddenly seemed very small and very personal.
  “The, uh, Wolf Trap is ready to roll. An escort will lead you to the tunnels and on 
  to the arena. Esmeralda simply nodded at the information. “Pre-fi ght checks are 
  complete, but you’ll want to run them again at the arena.” O’Shea almost slapped 
  his head at uttering such a stupid statement. Of course she would run and rerun 
  those checks until the match started. Esmeralda  checked the coupling on her 
  cooling vest and fi nally snapped it closed. O’Shea never thought he’d be happy to 
  see less of her, but he was. “Shayne seems to be back in line and on board. I guess 
  you two made up?”
  Esmeralda nodded, stepping past O’Shea to the offi  ce chair. Inspecting each 
  boot, she began strapping up. He noticed that her previously broken foot was still 
  heavily bandaged. Seeking some form or conversation to cover up his gawking, 
  O’Shea continued. “Were you expecting the package?”
  Esmeralda didn’t look up. “Yeah. Remember that knowledge is half the battle. 
  I never go into an arena—” she looked up and transfi xed him with a stare, “—any 
  arena without as much intel as I can get.”
  “What did you fi nd out?”
  Esmeralda fi nished with the fi rst boot and blew out a sigh, leaning back in the 
  chair. “Precious little. I’m fi ghting a Crab. Do you know anything about it?” O’Shea 
  thought hard, but could recall little about the ‘Mech and shrugged his shoulders. 
  She knew the basics better than him.
  “Energy based,” he replied. “Considered lightly armed for its weight, but it still 
  packs one helluva punch, especially since it outweighs you by fi ve tons.” Esmeralda 
  nodded.
  “Only a fool like Carstairs would accept a match like this. Check that. Carstairs 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  196
  
  F I R S T  C H A I R
  ARTIST: CHRIS LEWIS
  PUBLICATION: MAPPACK: SOLARIS VII
  YEAR: 2004
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  197
  
  F I R S T  C H A I R
  “Crystal clear,” she replied.
  “Good, because we’re on.”
  The doors swept back and O’Shea edged forward into the lights and the noise. 
  It was a familiar experience, but grander and more intense than ever before. He 
  didn’t realize he was smiling, but the sense of joy and excitement was nearly 
  overwhelming. The arena fl oor was simple. There were blocks of concrete to 
  provide a bit of cover, but nothing really worth the name. True to Esmeralda’s 
  report, there was nothing to block line of sight. He, unknowingly, was directly 
  beneath the booth where Esmeralda was seated. The Crab entered from the 
  opposite direction.
  O’Shea cycled through the optics magnifying the forward view to get a close 
  look at the Crab. It looked, well, like a crab. The head was forward. The legs were 
  bird-like, with reversed knees, giving it a diff erent gait than the Wolf Trap. The 
  arms protruded from the side, behind the head and beneath a heavy hood, each 
  ending in a weapon barrel, both of which fi red ruby beams toward his end of the 
  arena. Without conscious thought, he’d already aligned the crosshairs of the Wolf 
  Trap’s weapons on the other ’Mech and fi red. Puff s of smoke from his missiles and 
  autocannon danced along the heavy hood. He returned to normal magnifi cation 
  as the weapons cycled and a cacophony of sounds echoed through the cockpit.
  “Damn!”
  “Trouble?” was Esmeralda’s immediate response. He scanned the instrument 
  panels and turned off  the klaxon.
  “Heat sinks three and four just went off  line.”
  “Can’t be,” she replied. “Shayne told me you and he put in the new parts and ran 
  a complete test. They checked out fi ne.” New claxons immediately sounded and 
  were silenced.
  “Well, seven and nine just went toes-up, too. You want to tell me why?” 
  He triggered the Wolf Trap’s long-range missiles and autocannon, which was 
  answered by the Crab’s twin lasers. O’Shea was getting the worse end of the deal, 
  despite a nearly perfect spread of missiles striking his enemy’s left arm. Although 
  one laser passed over her shoulder, the other struck the center of the Wolf Trap’s 
  chest. The armor held, but it was a solid blow.
  After a pause, Esmeralda responded. “Shayne. He must have sabotaged the 
  couplers.” Her voice sounded distant. She was either lost in thought or had moved 
  “Do it,” she gasped. O’Shea moved as quickly and gently as he could, sliding 
  the boot off  the reinjured foot. There were tears in the corner of her eyes, but 
  Esmeralda didn’t quite pass out.
  “God as my witness, when you get back, I’m going to break both of your feet 
  just so you know what it feels like.”
  O’Shea didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say. 
  Esmeralda took a deep breath. “Get one of the techs in here on your way out. 
  Go. Now. Get us out of this mess that Carstairs got us into. I’ll get to the arena as 
  quickly as I can and man the booth, but you’ve got to pilot the Wolf Trap. 
  “But it’s Henry’s ‘Mech.”
  Esmeralda grabbed the only weapon in reach, the boot, and swung weakly. “It’s 
  my stable. I call the shots. Now suit up and haul some ass. Now!”
  O’Shea hit the front door running, throwing off  clothes as he went. Blowing 
  past the arena offi  cials and disregarding what little modesty he had. He stripped 
  out of his kilt, sliding on a pair of trunk athletic shorts, before grabbing his vest 
  and helmet. Henry shot him a venomous look, but O’Shea didn’t notice. In the 
  cockpit he simultaneously fi nished dressing and ran another set of pre-match 
  checks.
  Thankfully he’d performed the checks for Esmeralda as if he’d be piloting the 
  Wolf Trap. While the controls were not totally familiar, he knew the basics and 
  the rising panic fueled further education. With his helmet seated, he followed 
  the offi  cials out of the stable and through the underground tunnels toward the 
  arena. O’Shea paid absolutely no attention to the surroundings as he continued 
  to examine the cockpit instruments.
  Forty-fi ve minutes later he stopped behind the offi  cials at what he assumed was 
  the arena entrance. He heard muffl  ed sound through the external microphones, 
  echoing off  the heavy doors.
  “Mic check, 1, 2. Mic check.”
  “I read you, Esmeralda. How am I coming through?” O’Shea let out a sigh of 
  relief. Sweat had already popped out on his forehead and he felt much hotter 
  than he should. While Esmeralda had been in ‘game mode’ all day, he’d been 
  performing system checks and serving as a technician. The mad dash to the arena 
  had given time to prepare, but precious little to worry. Now he felt the rush of 
  adrenaline as the duel began.
  ARTIST: BRENT EVANS
  PUBLICATION: TECHNICAL READOUT: 3050 UPGRADE
  YEAR: 2006
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  198
  
  F I R S T  C H A I R
  “No!”
  “Yes! Don’t you bloody well die on me because you can’t bear to lose. Power 
  down!”
  “No! I won’t. I can’t. I might as well go out swinging. The season, the stable, it’s 
  fi nished.”
  “Oh, no you don’t. Don’t you leave me with this mess just because you’re afraid 
  to pick up the pieces. You lost. Deal with it. You power down. Now.”
  The Crab seemed to be coming to the end of its patience, but it continued to 
  move in a slow circle, keeping away from the cannon. Quietly, however, the Wolf 
  Trap fell back as O’Shea complied with Esmeralda’s order. The Crab raised both 
  hands into the air and backed away before taking a victory lap around the arena 
  fl oor. O’Shea was still strapped in the cockpit when arena techs came to remove 
  the fallen Wolf Trap from the arena fl oor.
  ▲▼▲
  The engine shielding actually proved easier—and cheaper, Carstairs reminded 
  them—to fi x than the severed arm. In all, the damage was fairly light, considering 
  the swiftness of the defeat. Esmeralda and the techs gave O’Shea plenty of space 
  for the next three days, but after that they had to get the Hunchback ready for the 
  next match and it took everyone working side-by-side to get the job done.
  It took Carstairs less than twenty-four hours to run Henry Shayne to ground. 
  Twenty-three hours for him to decide to call his mother-in-law, who apparently 
  didn’t know about the treachery, and an hour for her to give him a contact 
  location. He promised to take care of things, but O’Shea wasn’t satisfi ed. Esmeralda 
  suggested he try a few repair sessions with her spanner and the Hunchback’s 
  ammo feed. It took a bit of the edge from his anger, leaving him winded and 
  fuming. 
  “I take it this was your fi rst defeat,” she fi nally said at the end of the day. O’Shea 
  only glared and she laughed briefl y. “Looks can’t kill me, O’Shea. Many have 
  tried.”
  O’Shea held his temper, but barely, and turned to go.
  “So, what did you learn?” she asked as he left. “Anything?”
  “I learned not to trust the techs or the crew.”
  “Bah, you learned no such thing. Passion is what drives MechWarriors. We 
  underestimated young Shayne’s passion and it cost us. Well,” she said with a 
  mischievous smile, “it mostly cost his uncle, but we’ll be helping to pay the price.”
  O’Shea wheeled on her. “How can you make light of this? We were betrayed, 
  both of us. I could have died. Worse, I lost. Badly. The stable may be ruined before 
  it’s even gotten a chance to begin. Doesn’t that make your blood boil?”
  “Of course, man. Are you insane?” She held out open hands. “Am I supposed to 
  stomp around and make everyone miserable because I’m mad? Because I made 
  a mistake? I screwed up, but I learned something. I’ll never underestimate that 
  passion again. I’ll be better prepared when I see it the next time. And believe me, 
  when I see it the next time, I’ll be ready to use it to our advantage. Until then, I’ll 
  work like a rented mule to pay for that mistake to you, to Carstairs and to myself. 
  The road just got harder, but it didn’t end.”
  O’Shea sighed and dropped his shoulders. “Are you sure you’ll know it?” he 
  asked simply. 
  Esmeralda nodded and O’Shea turned toward the door. He took a step, but 
  then stopped and looked over his shoulder.
  “Then I’ll be ready too.”
  away from the microphone.
  “Where is that weasel?” 
  “Gone.”
  “Of course. We’ll deal with that later. What else can you tell me about this 
  thing?”
  O’Shea tried to angle for another shot, keeping focused on the opponent’s left 
  side. The Crab kept moving, triggering its large lasers again as it closed. He replied 
  with cannon and missile fi re.
  “It’s bigger than you and more heavily armored. Those large lasers are the 
  biggest threat, but stay away. It’s got a couple of other energy weapons if you get 
  close. You’re probably faster but this arena isn’t going to let you use that speed.”
  The ‘Mechs traded shots, with the Wolf Trap taking several shots in the left arm. 
  O’Shea didn’t need a claxon to tell him the arm was likely ruined. His autocannon 
  kept striking true, but O’Shea couldn’t tell if he was even getting close to piercing 
  the armor of the beast.
  The Wolf Trap paused beside one of the larger concrete blocks, crouching 
  for some additional cover. “Damn. I’m already getting a ghost on the targeting 
  array.” 
  Some systems behaved diff erently, but no BattleMech targeting system 
  could long handle the high heat O’Shea was suff ering. As the ‘Mech’s internal 
  temperature continued to rise components continued to falter. A ghost, or false 
  secondary target read would hurt the accuracy of his fi re. The visual clue made 
  him aware of how hot it had gotten in the cockpit. Normally the Wolf Trap ran 
  relatively cool. Not now. Every time he moved and he fi red a weapon, the heat 
  would keep rising. O’Shea doubted he could even use the twin medium lasers 
  now—it wouldn’t be worth the heat generated.
  The Crab approached as O’Shea huddled behind the protective block. They 
  exchanged fi re again. His LRMs failed to lock and scattered wildly. His cannon 
  struck the Crab’s foot, but it didn’t break stride. One laser cored through the block, 
  while the second again struck the Wolf Trap’s chest, blasting off  what little armor 
  remained.
  “Oh, to hell with this.”
  A warning died in Esmeralda’s throat as O’Shea rounded the block and charged. 
  With his opponent moving to close ground, the two closed rapidly. O’Shea ran 
  with the remains of his left arm held high and brought all weapons to bear. The 
  missile launcher still failed to lock, sending the payload harmlessly past as he fi red 
  with lasers and cannon. Still he failed to breach the Crab’s armor. The Crab hit 
  the Wolf Trap with everything right in the chest. Armor blasted away, followed 
  by the skeleton beneath. Klaxons shrieked, indicating critical heat build-up, now 
  adding a soft female voice, who repeated, “engine damage” over and over. O’Shea 
  lamented that there was apparently no way to turn her off .
  Ultimately, the warning didn’t matter. O’Shea brought his left arm crashing 
  down on the Crab’s armored top. The left arm snapped at the elbow, dealing 
  minor damage to the hood as it crashed to the arena fl oor. The Crab kicked out, 
  crumpling what was left of O’Shea’s left leg. The Wolf Trap collapsed heavily on 
  its side. Sparks shot across the instruments and the console, but the smoke was 
  relatively light.
  “That’s it, O’Shea. It’s over.”
  “The hell you say!” He tried to bring the autocannon in line, but the Crab quickly 
  moved out of the way. It dropped both arms toward the Wolf Trap’s chest, but did 
  not immediately fi re. 
  “It’s over, O’Shea. Power down!”
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  199
  
   
  ARTIST: FLORIAN STITZ
  PUBLICATION: CLAN EXPANSION BOX SET
  YEAR: FORTHCOMING
  YEAR: FORTHCOMING
  YEAR: FORTHCOMING
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  200
  
   
  ARTIST: ALEX IGLESIAS
  PUBLICATION: ERA REPORT: 3052
  YEAR: FORTHCOMING
  YEAR: FORTHCOMING
  YEAR: FORTHCOMING
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  201
  
  T H E  C O L O R  O F  R A G E
  ARTIST: DOUG CHAFFEE
  PUBLICATION: AEROTECH 2: RECORD SHEETS
  YEAR: 2002
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  202
  
  T H E  C O L O R  O F  R A G E
  TEHUANTEPEC ESSEX-CLASS WARSHIP
  INCOMING TO YORK SYSTEM
  KERENSKY CLUSTER, CLAN SPACE
  23 AUGUST 3063
  Six hundred and twenty thousand tons of war-forged metal transitioned out of 
  hyperspace. Terrible energies harnessed by the Kearny-Fuchida hyperdrive in the 
  bowels of the Essex-class WarShip Tehuantepec fi nished rotating the vessel back 
  to a three spatial and one-time dimension. The hyperspace fi eld—which formed 
  in the York system 25.81 light-years distant from the launching point before 
  the vessel even began transition—fi nished its work and collapsed in a glorious 
  annihilation of space dust and red-shifted energy racing away at the speed of light 
  to announce to distant sensors that wolves were baying at the world’s doorstep.
  War…real war…had come to York.
  Star Commodore Kris Paik blinked several times to wash away the vestiges of 
  jump disorientation as the vessel fi rmly settled into the velocity of the York system. 
  He breathed in deeply. The tang of bodies in close proximity, warm machinery 
  humming at work and cleaning astringents fi lled his nostrils and left its mark on 
  his tongue: my ship. 
  Despite their duties on the bridge of the magnifi cent three hundred and 
  twenty-seven year-old vessel, he caught surreptitious headshakes, face rubs 
  and even an explosive exhalation as the after-eff ects of the jump touched every 
  crewman down the ship’s six hundred and fi fteen-meter length. Their blood un-
  pure, he allowed them their weakness.
  “Status report,” he spoke, tone fl at as planed ferro-carbide armor. Soft. Rage 
  could not be unleashed or it burned uncontrollably, gutting the carrier as quickly 
  as the target. No, rage must be banked and controlled. Focused. An endless 
  source of energy as vast as the fusion-energies within the yellow-white F2V-class 
  star now at their aft as the vessel oriented arrow-straight towards the second of 
  fi ve planetary bodies.
  Comms-master Borrine responded immediately, always effi  cient, despite blood, 
  as an aurora borealis swept the consoles of the bridge, sensors online, detecting 
  near space; electronic eyes a skein beginning to reach across the entire system. 
  “Jump to L1 achieved.” A cant of his head as Borrine ran the numbers to verify the 
  computer’s output; he never gave erroneous data to his commander. 
  “250,033 kilometers from orbital insertion.” Another pause as the man’s eyes 
  swept a plethora of screens that spewed data like a quasar does its beam of x-rays, 
  as the electronic brain verifi ed the proximity and trajectory of every object in near 
  space. “We’re clear. Commencing system burn in thirty. Time to orbit, two point 
  eight hours.”
  Kris’ eyes moved to the massive holographic projection that hung in the center 
  of the bridge, pinpricks of light blossoming like stars at a rapid onset of night 
  planet-side as the computer translated the massive data dump into a visual feast 
  for the trained mind. The data reticule over his right eye—synched to the battle 
  computer and its holographic projection—ballooned data tags of additional 
  information as he tracked across the simulation and paused on any given point.
  “Not that we need orbital insertion,” Talia said, grin preceding her by three 
  strides. “A WarShip entering the atmosphere…now that would be a sight to see, 
  quiaff ?”
  He refused to respond to the rhetorical question. Though he’d chastised her 
  early in their joint career for such lower-caste weakness—despite the lack of a 
  Bloodname, the rights fl owed in her veins—her frivolity remained. He’d since 
  relinquished any hope of curbing her baser instincts. This was why, despite her 
  superb performance at his side, he’d never sponsored her. Only the fi ttest names 
  could be wedded to the future history of Clan Star Adder in the halls of the 
  Bloodname Chapels of the Svoboda Zemylya. 
  The in-system transit drives came online and massive thrusters at the aft of 
  the Tehuantepec engaged, easily accelerating over a half-million tons out of the 
  closely calculated L1 jump point between the second planet and its moon. Nausea 
  momentarily peaked as microgravity gave way to gravity, the magslips on his feet 
  now un-needed as the bridge deck, perpendicular to the direction of travel and 
  the ship’s bow, abruptly became “down.”
  “Nerves of a sphinx raptor, Star Commodore,” Talia said. “Caught the stravag 
  Spirits with their pants around their ankles.”
  “You don’t trust the computers?” Kris responded.
  “Neg. Not when it comes to this complex a calculation. To fi gure when the 
  gravities between a planetary body and its moon will be thoroughly canceled 
  enough to ensure we aren’t torn asunder as we jump in-system? Borrine, I trust. 
  You, I trust implicitly, sphinx raptor nerves and all. But the computer….”
  He couldn’t decide which he found more annoying. That she could be the XO 
  of a starship and still not trust the brains of her craft, or that she would lecture 
  him on points of astrophysics he could relate when he was thirteen. Neither was 
  worth answering.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  203
  YORK
  World Name:
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  Position in System:
  Time to Jump Point:
  Number of Satellites:
  Surface Gravity:
  Atm. Pressure:
  Equatorial Temperature:
  Surface Water Coverage:
  Recharging Station:
  HPG Class Type (Clan): A
  Highest Native Life:
  Population Size (3063):
  Socio-Industrial Levels:
  When Clan Blood Spirit announced it would no longer deal 
  with the other Clans, the Spirits moved to secure York for 
  themselves alone. They claimed the world with relatively little 
  bloodshed, as the Falcons were uninterested in defending one 
  nearly-depleted mine and the Snow Ravens fought a one-on-
  one Trial of Possession between force commanders. The Star 
  Adders have since breached the unity of York, seizing a small 
  enclave on the world.
  Aside from serving as the Blood Spirits’ redoubt, York has 
  little to recommend it (except, perhaps, by the standards of the 
  Clan Homeworlds). It is a somewhat warm, large planet with 
  high gravity, a large moon, and frequent tectonic activity. Its 
  impressive mountain ranges, some volcanoes reaching into the 
  gravity-compressed stratosphere, serve to shade continental 
  interiors from rainfall. Much of the population thus settles along 
  the coasts (or coastal mountain valleys, above the ﬂ ood lines of 
  quake-driven tsunamis).
  i
  t
  e
  t
  i
  a
  e
  T
  l
  d
  m
  h
  o
  u
  e
   
  h
  a
  a
  .
  a
  m
  e
  t
  r
  l
  O
  f
  v
  v
  m
  e
  f
  o
  p
  d
  e
  C
  d
  o
  N
  s
  i
  W
  a
  e
  G
  J
  e
  a
  R
  e
  o
  a
  o
  e
  s
  o
  s
  l
  e
  r
  i
  v
  y
  S
  e
  e
  r
  v
  a
  p
  y
  e
  :
  K
  f
  d
  a
  g
  d
  v
  r
  e
  s
  i
   
  a
  o
  L
  3
  i
  o
  o
  e
  i
  m
  a
  M
  r
  a
  m
  e
  a
  e
  n
  a
  e
  p
  s
  3
  n
  a
  u
  :
  T
  h
  s
  s
  p
  h
  e
  t
  t
  w
  a
  a
  e
  h
  r
  d
  e
  e
  l
  n
  S
  e
  d
  r
  o
  o
  e
  v
  e
  a
  p
  w
  n
  e
  m
  e
  a
  n
  n
  a
  b
  i
  f
  o
  v
  e
  r
  e
  s
   
  c
  e
  r
  r
  m
  d
  w
   
  e
  c
  i
  e
  n
  u
  e
  e
  g
  d
  r
  c
  o
  l
  o
  g
  c
  a
  d
  Y
  g
  T
  a
  v
  n
  e
  o
  y
  f
  S
  e
  l
  k
  with the other Clans, the Spirits moved to secure York for 
  w
  bloodshed as the Falcons were uninterested in defending one
  y
  p
  g
  itt e to recommend it (except perhaps by the standards of the
  Adders have since breached the unity of York seizing a small
  A
  I
  i
  i
  i
  f
  d
  i
  h
  ih
  mpressive mountain ranges, some volcanoes reaching into the
  i
  f
  i f ll M
  h
  f th
  l ti
  th
  ttl
  l
  Socio Industrial Levels:
  S
  Highest Native Life:
  S
  f
  W t
  C
  S
  Atm. Pressure:
  Ti
  t
  J
  P i t
  T
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  S
  YORK
  Y
  THE COLOR OF RAGE
  R A N D A L L  N .  B I L L S
  
  T H E  C O L O R  O F  R A G E
  his usual spot at the railing like 
  one of those struts instead of 
  strapped in the command seat.
  Like a fast promulgating 
  disease, 
  explosions 
  rippled 
  across the skin of the distant 
  DropShip 
  as 
  the 
  weapons 
  found their mark; the ship 
  disintegrated in a glorious ball 
  of silent fl ames.
  “Another 
  wave 
  incoming,” 
  Talia said from a comms station.
  Eyes moved to the holographic 
  display where arrow trajectories 
  showed a score of rising fi ghters 
  along with another handful of 
  assault DropShips; a dance of 
  pillars of fusion fi re, streams of 
  shells and incoherent beams 
  fl ashing in and out of vision as 
  they energized space dust and 
  debris fi elds, encompassed the 
  forward 
  viewscreen 
  despite 
  dozens of kilometers distance. 
  How many Clusters have we 
  destroyed? 
  “Stravag 
  Spirits!” 
  For days they’d held off  a 
  landing. Days where endless 
  fi ghter and DropShip screens 
  rose to obliteration along the 
  atmospheric interface against 
  the massive tide of Star Adder 
  ships.
  “No, 
  commodore. 
  Stravag 
  Snow Ravens,” Talia responded 
  to his unusual expletive.
  He gritted teeth until stars 
  threatened. Knew she was right. 
  The Spirits had always been 
  a small Clan. But after their 
  abhorrent interference in the Absorption War against Clan Burrock, the Adders 
  had punished them. Driven them back until only their homeworld of York off ered 
  shelter. For years the Adders further stung them, preparing for this day of full 
  invasion. He knew their production capacity; knew what they could replace and 
  in what timeframe. Knew that their wholesale adoption of the dead Jaguars’ 
  abomination technology of ProtoMechs came from desperation…a need for 
  maximum output with fi nite resources.
  “This volume of fi ghters cannot have come from the Spirits alone,” he fi nally 
  responded.
  “Aff . The fi lthy Ravens are at work again. IlChi McFadden must have brokered 
  a deal for the Ravens to ship in additional naval assets.” There was no smile this 
  time.
  Fingertips and boot soles detected vibrations; a quick scan showed damage 
  schematics lighting up a series of hits along the fl ank of the ship. Before he could 
  open his mouth, the screen showed the pair of audacious fi ghters destroyed by 
  his own screen of protecting fi ghters. “For too long their scheming has soiled the 
  Clan way,” Kris ground out. “The Ravens will receive our full attention…when the 
  time is right.”
  “Aff ,” came the fervent reply.”
  “Now where is the Blood Fury?”
  Beyond adrenaline-spiked breathing and the staccato of keyboards, silence 
  greeted his request. “How can we have lost it again?” The staccato became 
  machine-gun fi re at the calm tone…the calm before a storm.
  “I believe she has slipped behind planet once more,” Borrine spoke, distaste at 
  the vagueness palpable.
  “You guess?”
  “You know as well as I we paid 
  for this information in a fl ood of 
  Adder blood. Our raids over the 
  years mere fl esh-wounds, with far 
  too many lost.” The rage whirled 
  within, 
  yet 
  tightly 
  leashed. 
  “Dropping a few key satellites 
  during each raid allowed us to 
  map this region of space across 
  years. A level of detail never 
  before gained of the York system, 
  what with the Spirits’ death-grip 
  on their last bastion.”
  “L1’s like this can still be fi ckle.” 
  The smile slipped.
  An energy spike fl ared on the 
  projection, drawing his eye and 
  unfolding a data readout. A jump 
  fi eld was forming. An incoming 
  JumpShip—the fi rst of several—
  began its process of transition 
  in-system, ferrying in troops for 
  a massive assault; they’d be well 
  away from that deadly sphere of 
  energy when it fully formed. 
  The 
  fi rst 
  of 
  many. 
  The 
  information 
  distracted 
  him 
  from irritation at his XO’s oddly 
  muddled thinking. “Even the 
  Spirits will have learned to spread 
  the precious remains of their 
  WarShip fl eet to blockade both 
  standard jump points, as well as 
  the standard L1,” he continued. 
  “They would never contemplate 
  we had enough data to pull off  
  this much closer jump.”
  His XO heaved her own sigh. 
  He could practically feel her 
  marshaling her decorum, leashing 
  her tongue, transforming into his second-in-command. “Aff .” Smile back in place.
  They would scramble a fi ghter screen in rapid response to the emergence wave 
  that was mere minutes from the planet. A heavy fi ghter screen, with a host of 
  assault DropShips for support. And they would have a WarShip. Though a bare 
  handful remained, he knew the Spirits well enough. They would never leave the 
  home world without the orbital protection of a capital-class vessel.
  The time was coming. The time to teach the Spirits the consequences of 
  meddling in the aff airs of their betters. A lesson he would instruct with relish.
  The anticipation began to build.
  ▲▼▲
  25 AUGUST 3063
  Ancient Star League algorithms spun through the ship’s brain as it hurtled 
  through space. Taking into account the delta-v of the Essex—along with the 
  assault-class DropShip arrowing towards it from down-plane in comparison to 
  its own trajectory—the computer reached a decision and initiated a spread of 
  bracketing fi re, hoping to catch its prey. Plasma explosions detonated in the 
  breeches of the mammoth barrels bristling from the fore-left region of the ship as 
  three class-20 naval autocannons spoke in tongues of piercingly bright light: the 
  color of rage. Streams of shells—each barrel spitting out almost half a ton each of 
  rapid-fi re metal—catapulted at hypervelocity, attempting to savage a target over 
  800 kilometers distant.
  Body as rigid as any bulkhead strut, Star Commodore Paik watched the battle, 
  brown eyes black as the void with focus. One of his few eccentricities, he stood in 
  ARTIST: DOUG CHAFFEE
  PUBLICATION: TECHNICAL READOUT:  3055 UPGRADE
  YEAR: 2005
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  204
  
  T H E  C O L O R  O F  R A G E
  ARTIST: PETER SCANLON
  PUBLICATION: BATTLESPACE
  YEAR: 1993
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  205
  
  T H E  C O L O R  O F  R A G E
  ARTIST: MATT PLOG/CHRIS LEWIS
  PUBLICATION: STRATEGIC OPERATIONS
  YEAR: 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  206
  
  T H E  C O L O R  O F  R A G E
  easy Trial of Absorption into a bloodbath, he slowly nodded. Nothing more. I give 
  you nothing more, stravags.
  “Commit.”
  Commands fl ew across laser-linked communications and the mass of ships 
  began a heavy-handed burn.
  Come out, come out, wherever you are. The words tumbled through his head as 
  he watched the majestic dance of delta-Vs of hundreds of craft as the defending 
  aerospace fi ghters, fi nally depleted to a point his experience marked as patches of 
  weakness, burned towards the invasion force to try to stop them one last time.
  The Blood Fury is the prize I want. At this point, more than touching BattleMechs 
  to ground, he wanted the elusive prey of the captain who’d out-maneuvered him 
  (out-shown, he admitted to himself) for long, long days.
  Seconds stretched into agonizing minutes like ferro-carbide armor slowly 
  extruded and then spun in orbital factories he’d inspected. Where is it?! I’ve left you 
  a sign like a burning contrail across half an atmosphere!
  “Commodore!” Borrine spoke, voice atingle with excitement.
  “I see,” he responded as the viewscreen leapt forward with sickening speed 
  to latch onto the elusive craft. Like an Albion viper shark in shallow waters, the 
  Blood Fury hove into view, sling-shotting around the planet, bottom of the craft 
  a crimson curtain of fi re as she skimmed the upper atmosphere of York. Despite 
  hatred, another nod of respect grudgingly emerged at the piloting acumen. He’d 
  never seen the like before.
  “Engage,” he commanded, confi dent this viper shark he would fi nally catch.
  His Tehuantepec roared savagely in response, a hail of naval autocannons, lasers, 
  particle projector cannons and capital missiles launching down-vector; a layered 
  skein of weapons fi re to try to catch the craft with damage. As though moving by 
  his will, his Essex vibrated heavily as the in-system drives ignited, the pilot moving 
  the ship into an intercept pattern before Kris even spoke.
  Despite the frantic dance of ships and endless gigajoules of energy and kinetic 
  forces at work, the battle began to slow in Kris’ mind, as though he were suddenly 
  out of his body, fl oating in the void, a witness to the brilliant yet disturbingly silent 
  orchestration of death unfolding across the upper skin of an uncaring planet 
  hurtling through space. 
  The Blood Fury lashed with all its might against a fl ood of DropShips and 
  aerospace fi ghters that burned crimson-bright making atmospheric interface. 
  Scores of such craft littered near space, a galaxy of stars burning up as they hit 
  “Aff , Star Commodore. The newly arrived fi ghter screen pulled my attention 
  from the WarShip.”
  Kris swallowed a raging reply as eyes bored into his comms chief with the 
  force of a naval PPC. Yet the man didn’t fl inch or turn away, taking the brunt of 
  his commanding offi  cer’s displeasure. Why I keep you around, came the grudging 
  thought through red-rimmed clouds of anger. I’m in command of one of the largest 
  invasion forces in the modern Homeworlds’ era and yet the savashri Spirits keep me 
  at bay!
  He breathed until his chest felt full to bursting, then spoke, teeth aching. 
  “Destroy that new fi ghter screen. Find the Blood Fury. I want my troops planet-
  side within forty-eight hours.” Before the other WarShips protecting the zenith and 
  nadir jump points are able to burn to planet. 
  ▲▼▲
  27 AUGUST 3063
  “This time you’re mine.” He spoke softly, language lazy with a contraction after 
  so many days of constant warfare. In all his years of raids and counter-raids he’d 
  never seen a defense like that thrown up by the Spirits.
  “Alpha group preparing for orbital insertion,” Talia said. “Commodore,” she 
  continued, a pause showing trepidation. “Are you sure this is wise?”
  “Aff ,” he responded immediately, ignoring his own questions. “The Spirits have 
  spent their men and ships as water against the sea to keep us at bay. And it is 
  working,” he continued, curbing his lazy tongue. “What is more, it has allowed 
  their Blood Fury to slip in and out of battle, destroying any hesitant probes for 
  landing. It is time we present the same dedication.”
  The arrows on the holographic display showed a convergence formation of 
  most of the entire landing fl eet—tagged as Alpha group—of DropShips and 
  the army of fi ghter escorts lining up for an insertion run as blatant as the sun 
  in-system.
  “The obviousness of the trajectories.”
  “Aff . For days we’ve tried to slip some ships on planet. Failures all. It is time the 
  entire invasion moves.”
  “Time we matched the Spirits’…commitment.”
  Despite his loathing of the Clan that turned what should have been a relatively 
  ARTIST: DOUG CHAFFEE
  PUBLICATION: TECHNICAL READOUT:  3067
  YEAR: 2002
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  207
  
  T H E  C O L O R  O F  R A G E
  “Sir!”
  “What?” He didn’t recognize the 
  voice and turned to fi nd a woman 
  (Jasine?), her face writ large with 
  horror, glancing at him while 
  continuing to type as though 
  trying to verify information.
  “I’ve got a hyperspace fi eld 
  forming around the Spirit craft.”
  “What?” The fog of impending 
  lethargy still worked its deadly 
  magic.
  “Sir…it’s 
  begun 
  a 
  jump 
  sequence?”
  “What?!” he shouted, surprise 
  stripping away the last of his 
  malaise, the thunder of his voice 
  (a sound never heard on this ship) 
  stunning all into silence.
  “What?” 
  he 
  repeated, 
  desperately pulling calm around 
  him like well-worn blanket, yet 
  one shredded unexpectedly.
  He watched the woman visibly 
  swallow and grope for words 
  before 
  responding. 
  “They’ve 
  begun the initiation sequence 
  for a jump.”
  “That’s not possible.”
  “I’ve verifi ed the fi nding. Three 
  times.”
  For the fi rst time in his career, 
  Star Commodore Kris Paik stood 
  frozen 
  with 
  indecision, 
  the 
  enormity of the surprise robbing 
  him of action.
  “Star commodore,” Talia said, 
  voice urgent.
  He shook his head, uncaring of the weakness shown, the stain on his blood. 
  It brought him back to the here and now. The needs of his ship. “Move this ship 
  now!” he roared.
  His crew sprang into action. The heavy vibration under his feet spiked to 
  screams of agony as lateral thrust attempted to curb the velocity of the ship and 
  move it as quickly as possible away while he watched the energy spike—now 
  tracked on the holographic display as a large window next to the enemy vessel—
  grow with each second.
  They must have been planning this for long minutes, he raged. Despite the 
  insanity of the jump, despite its assured failure as gravitic forces would shred the 
  jump fi eld and annihilate the ship when it attempted to enter hyperspace through 
  a warped fi eld, despite tearing out all safety protocols to force the coordinates 
  into the K-F drive computers this far from a standard jump point, it still would 
  have taken at least fi fteen minutes to program. Fifteen minutes of knowing they 
  would die, and still they fought with the savagery of a sphinx raptor. 
  “We’re not going to make it,” Talia whispered, her voice heard despite the 
  savage vibrations almost throwing him from his feet and the Gs red-rimming his 
  vision, as the Essex strained under the worst forces exerted against the vessel in 
  more than three centuries.
  God’s eye opened.
  Horrifi c energies unleashed themselves along the half-kilometer length of 
  the Blood Fury’s Kearny-Fuchida hyperdrive as a sphere of energy attempted to 
  form and pierce the fabric of space. As prophesied, gravity tore at the warp and 
  weave of it, distorting the terrible blight of scintillating energy until the shivering 
  of the fi eld was a visible undulation of energies spinning out of control. The fi eld 
  expanded, racing towards the Essex and past in an eye blink.
  God’s eye closed.
  Kris’ skull met the bulkhead in a stunning display of stars to rival any borealis, 
  atmosphere, 
  forcing 
  entry 
  trajectory aborts. All the while 
  his Essex hammered at the Lola 
  III-class vessel, tearing away 
  armor and defenses.
  His vision wavered as his 
  banked rage mounted into a 
  towering, physical entity taking 
  control. Fight me. Savashri fi ght 
  me! Despite aching body and 
  jaw as he attempted to force 
  the enemy captain by will alone 
  to turn his sights toward him 
  and give him a glorious fi ght 
  to the death, the Spirit captain 
  never wavered from his defense. 
  Took the horrifi c pummeling 
  from the Adder WarShip while 
  it continued to cleave through 
  DropShips, scattering destroyed 
  vehicles and BattleMechs like 
  discarded toys. He’d known 
  this move would result in high 
  losses. But he’d not gambled it 
  would be this much.
  “Sir, we’ve got him.”
  He battled against the currents 
  of emotions, latching onto Talia’s 
  words. He swallowed heavily, 
  throat 
  constricted, 
  copper-
  tang kissing his tongue (had 
  he bitten his cheek?), before he 
  could respond. “What?”
  “The 
  Blood 
  Fury. 
  She’s 
  fi nished.”
  For the fi rst time in what 
  seemed hours, he truly focused 
  on the defending ship, taking in the garish rents and streaming 
  debris. Watched the viewscreen as a lone Sulla and several Hydaspes fi ghters 
  fi nished a daring run against the ship, new destruction evident; the telling blow? 
  Eyes hit the holographic, bringing up schematic displays that tracked damage 
  and potential damage. The ship was listing off  its current course, the projection 
  showing an impact with the atmosphere. An impact she was not correcting; an 
  impact that would destroy her.
  “She’s lost her engines.” He quickly looked to the fi ghters as they streaked away 
  from the ship, display tagging the lead fi ghter, that lone Sulla: Star Commander 
  Tri Paik. Of course. Blood will run true and the Remembrance would add a line for 
  her glory.
  “Aff ,” Talia responded, her smile the savage grin of the successful predator.
  Another series of explosions washed out the forward viewscreen as another 
  battery of weapons fi re found its mark. Sensors showed sympathetic blasts 
  tearing through the interior of the craft as a section the size of several DropShips 
  seemed to vaporize under a mammoth explosion. 
  “What was that?” He couldn’t imagine the craft had enough ammunition left for 
  such a secondary detonation.
  “No idea, Star Commodore. Who cares? Close, now.”
  His ire spiked for a moment and he considered reprimanding her for over-
  stepping her bounds, but it collapsed as fatigue took over. An anti-climactic 
  ending to the most one-sided battle of his career. Confl icts between WarShips 
  were rare, despite endless Clan raiding. His chance for unmatched glory was 
  gone. He would land his troops, despite heavy losses. He would teach the Spirits 
  the lesson they had long deserved…but his chance at naval glory was lost. Only 
  the ground commanders would receive any glory now.
  He clenched the railing until tendons popped, nostrils fl aring as his energies 
  fl agged and he watched the enemy craft grow in the viewscreen, a reverse canopy 
  of stars below it as his landing fl otilla fi nally began full atmospheric interface.
  ARTIST: RICK HARRIS
  PUBLICATION: MECHWARRIOR: THE BATTLETECH ROLE PLAYING GAME SECOND EDITION
  YEAR: 1991
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  208
  
  T H E  C O L O R  O F  R A G E
  T H E  C O L O R  O F  R A G E
  ARTIST: MATT PLOG/CHRIS LEWIS
  PUBLICATION: STRATEGIC OPERATIONS
  YEAR: 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  209
  
  T H E  C O L O R  O F  R A G E
  life and he set aside emotions for later. His ship had been horribly damaged and 
  she—along with the living—needed him.
  “The Blood Fury?” He spat another glob of blood into a spiral away from him 
  while he awaited the answer.
  “Gone.”
  “The landing force?”
  Weak groans announced the awakening of others that had survived the 
  cataclysmic experience of being so close to a jump. 
  “Commodore, another two DropShips and at least a dozen fi ghters were 
  destroyed by the jump fi eld. The rest appear to have grounded on York and are 
  establishing a perimeter.”
  He nodded slowly. The audacity. The guts. The sheer…dedication. The fi ghting 
  over the last few days had impressed him, yet his disdain remained. His thirst for 
  personal glory remained also. That was the Clan way, after all, quiaff ?
  His fi ngers once more found the wound on his head, feeling how close it was to 
  his temple; knowing how close the Reaper had come to removing him from the 
  universe. Yet these Spirits went far beyond glory. They had demonstrated devotion 
  fanatical even among the warrior society of the Clans. A devotion to the survival of 
  their Clan that occluded all personal glory. A glory for the Clan as a whole.
  As his ship slowly awakened from its close call, he awakened from his own 
  personal demons. This isn’t about my glory. This is about glory for my Clan. As my 
  Clan star climbs, so shall I. As we punish the Spirits and take control of part of their 
  world for the fi rst time, that glory belongs to every Adder.
  A predator’s smile slipped into place and this time full acknowledgment was 
  paid to the Spirits and their battle acumen. He would still punish them for their 
  past sins. But he would do so as a superior warrior to a worthy foe.
  “Seyla.” He spoke the invocation to seal his new understanding.
  blood awash in his mouth from a bitten tongue, and he passed into the blackness 
  of unconsciousness.
  ▲▼▲
  Siren alerts brought Kris around. He dry heaved as he spat blood from his 
  mouth and realized he was slowly rotating in micro-gravity (we’ve lost engines?). 
  He blinked rapidly to focus vision that wavered like sunlight through water before 
  snapping into place; he grunted at the migraine spike. Fingers propped his head 
  and found the mother of all goose eggs…but no wetness. He looked slowly 
  around and found a scene of devastation: the command deck lit with the dark red 
  of emergency lighting, bodies and debris adrift, fl ashes of sparks igniting strobes 
  of pain in his head as several consoles spoke loudly of destruction.
  “Star Captain,” he said when he could fi nd his breath. Silence greeted his 
  words.
  “Talia?” He looked around and found the railing within reach; hissed at creaking 
  ribs as he reached to grab the handhold and pulled himself into a standing 
  position; looked down to fi nd one foot bare of a magnetic slip as he failed to fi nd 
  his usual fi rm footing.
  “Dead.” The voice was fi rm and fl at, its usual truth stripping away confusion.
  Kris looked to fi nd Borrine settling into a comms station, fi ngers tapping to 
  discover the damage to his craft, blood on his face ignored. A single nod in the 
  direction of Talia, Borrine’s only concession.
  He looked over to fi nd her fl oating body meters to his left, her face an 
  unrecognizable mass of white bone, torn fl esh and blood. He glanced around 
  until he found the jagged corner of a console that seemed to mirror the damage.
  The room brightened considerably as the holographic display stuttered to 
  ARTIST: MATT PLOG
  PUBLICATION: AEROTECH 2: REVISED
  YEAR: 2004
  ARTIST MATT PLOG
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  210
  
  T H E  C O L O R  O F  R A G E
  T H
  T HH
  T H
  T HH
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H E  
  E
  C O
  C OO L O
  L O R  
  R
  O F
  O F  R
   R A G
  A G
  A G
  A
  E
  ARTIST: JIM HOLLOWAY
  PUBLICATION: AEROTECH
  YEAR: 1986
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  211
  
   
  ARTIST: STEVE VENTERS
  PUBLICATION: BATTLETECH REINFORCEMENTS
  YEAR: 1986
  YEAR: 1986
  YEAR: 1986
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  212
  
   
  ARTIST: DOUG CHAFFEE
  PUBLICATION: STARTERBOOK: WOLF AND BLAKE
  YEAR: 2008
  YEAR: 2008
  YEAR: 2008
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  213
  
  T H R E E  S I D E S  T O  E V E R Y  S T O R Y
  ARTIST: KLAUS SCHERWINSKI
  PUBLICATION: JIHAD HOT SPOTS 3072
  YEAR: 2007
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  214
  
  T H R E E  S I D E S  T O  E V E R Y  S T O R Y
  WORD AGAINST BLAKE
  PIRATE ‘CAST BY MARIKO GUARDADO
  UNKNOWN LOCATION
  13 AUGUST 3072
  This is Mariko Guardado, with the latest Word Against Blake. If you’re receiving 
  this pirate transmission, then you’re receiving the truth, rather than the lies spun 
  by Word of Blake.
  For those of you new to WAB, but who might recognize me, I used to announce 
  the games at Silesia’s Coliseum in Solaris City. After the Blakists took over, I was 
  coerced into remaining at the coliseum, pretending to “announce” games that 
  were yet another propaganda tool for the Blakists. But I was able to get away, and 
  now I bring you these pirate ‘casts to bring the truth.
  Today is the 13th of August, 3072, and we have good news from Gibson, 
  thanks to a portable HPG on board one of the Regulan WarShips that has 
  generously provided near-real-time updates. The news? Not only has the 
  Regulan force arrived, but its met no resistance during the inward burn. Let me 
  say that again: they met no resistance. Obviously this proves what we’ve been 
  saying all along: that Word of Blake’s hold on Gibson is far weaker than they’ve 
  tried to have us believe.
  But then, that’s the standard for the Blakists—their entire empire is built on 
  propaganda. The problem with that is that once you start crying wolf, nobody 
  believes you when the wolf is actually at the door. Which means it’s impossible 
  to credit anything the Blakists say, and it’s almost to the point where we have to 
  assume the opposite of whatever nonsense they’re spewing.
  In this instance, it’s obvious that the tales of the “impregnable Gibson” are just 
  another tired exaggeration from the Blakists.
  I hope to have another report before the day is out, one that will talk of a Gibson 
  that is liberated from the yoke of the Word of Blake.
  This is Mariko Guardado with Word Against Blake, reminding you to keep the 
  truth burning bright.
  ▲▼▲
  HOURLY NEWS BULLETIN WITH BRONWYN SMITH
  PORTENT, GIBSON
  13 AUGUST 3072
  Greetings, noble followers of the Word of Blake! I am Bronwyn Smith with your 
  hourly news bulletin.
  Regulan forces have engaged in a sneak attack on Gibson. Working with fi fth 
  columnists who have infi ltrated our noble fi ghting forces on Gibson, the Hussars 
  have made planetfall and are now shooting down civilians and innocents in their 
  mad quest to remove this world from the Sainted Blake’s benevolent protection.
  Even now, their ‘Mechs are storming through Portent, destroying property and 
  taking lives indiscriminately.
  The footage you are about to see was obtained from a heroic Blakist who 
  sacrifi ced his life in order to provide us with these incredibly unpleasant images. 
  We caution all younger viewers, and any who are squeamish, to turn away, as 
  there is considerable violence here.
  Watch as the Regulan ‘Mech moves straight toward that private residence. Note 
  that this is a house owned by a schoolteacher, Elsa Granelli, as well as her young 
  son Nathan. Nathan is not home, as he is a dedicated Blakist fi ghting as a recruit 
  in the 49th Shadow Division, who are even now arming themselves to prepare to 
  repel this vicious onslaught.
  But what concerns us are the actions of the Regulan ‘Mech. Not content to 
  invade our worlds and murder our noble soldiers, but here this ‘Mech deliberately 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  215
  GIBSON
  World Name: 
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  Position in System:
  Time to Jump Point:
  Number of Satellites:
  Surface Gravity:
  Atm. Pressure:
  Equatorial Temperature:
  Surface Water:
  Recharging Station:
  HPG Class:
  Highest Native Life:
  Population (3072):
  Socio-Industrial Levels: 
  One of the most extensively terraformed worlds beyond the 
  Terran system, Gibson was engineered to be as human-friendly 
  as possible. From a world that was originally eighty percent dry 
  land, the Ryan Ice Cartel almost trebled the water coverage. 
  The advertising campaign touting Gibson’s newly arable land 
  drew many cultural groups from Terra and beyond. The process 
  accelerated when Gibson became known as a culturally tolerant 
  world of freethinkers. 
  Gibson’s famous tolerance is often said to have initially drawn 
  the Word of Blake refugees from the ComStar Schism in 3052. 
  However, the Word might have been more interested in Gibson’s 
  sizable armaments industry, which was a linchpin of the FWLM 
  throughout the Succession Wars. Whatever the case, the Word 
  of Blake proved poor guests to the most generous of hosts, soon 
  seeking to impose Blake’s teachings on peoples whose byword 
  was “live and let live.” 
  Since the Jihad broke over the Inner Sphere, the Word’s hold 
  on Gibson has only increased, to the consternation of most of 
  the population. Blakist dominance is enforced by a number of 
  Shadow Divisions that regularly rotate throughout the planet.
  i
  a
  u
  b
  e
  W
  b
  d
  l
  w
   
  o
  a
  e
  o
  u
   
  h
  a
  a
  .
  a
  m
  e
  t
  r
  l
  o
  p
  u
  r
  d
  s
  f
  e
  n
  e
  b
  y
  d
  o
  N
  s
  i
  W
  a
  e
  G
  J
  e
  a
  S
  p
  d
  e
  m
  W
  B
  m
  h
  w
  n
  n
  r
  m
  r
  3
  v
  S
  e
  e
  r
  v
  a
  p
  y
  e
  :
  O
  o
  c
  s
  d
  G
  a
  e
  b
  t
  L
  2
  i
  o
  e
  i
  m
  a
  N
  k
  s
  u
  g
  g
  r
  o
  a
  r
  o
  t
  s
  u
  :
  T
  t
  W
  y
  a
  e
  e
  f
  a
  v
  e
  h
  h
  s
  b
  m
  o
  m
  i
  s
  w
  i
  t
  o
  h
  w
  m
  o
  r
  G
  e
  o
  r
  f
  p
  e
  v
   
  e
  m
  d
  d
  o
  d
  n
  o
  m
  l
  o
  h
  h
  e
  r
  h
  y
  n
  e
  e
  w
  w
  o
  a
  o
  e
  h
  i
  u
  .
  y
  t
  ty
  h
  s
  e
  s
  t
  e
  i
  l
  y
   
  a
  c
  r
  n
  y
  w
  s
  W
  W
  s
  0
  r
  c
  a
  t
  e
  Terran system, Gibson was engineered to be as human friendly 
  T
  and
  the Ryan Ice Cartel almost trebled the water coverage
  g
  p g
  g
  y
  the Word of Blake refugees from the ComStar Schism in 3052
  accelerated when Gibson became known as a culturally tolerant
  a
  M
  L
  W
  F
  h
  f
  h
  h
  h
  d
  b
  i
  throughout the Succession Wars. Whatever the case, the Word
  ki
  t
  i
  Bl k ’
  t
  hi
  l
  h
  b
  d
  k
  Socio Industrial Levels:
  S
  Highest Native Life:
  S
  f
  W t
  S
  Atm. Pressure:
  Ti
  t
  J
  P i t
  T
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  S
  GIBSON
  THREE SIDES TO
  EVERY STORY
  K E I T H  R . A .  D e C A N D I D O
  
  T H R E E  S I D E S  T O  E V E R Y  S T O R Y
  ▲▼▲
  HOURLY NEWS BULLETIN WITH BRONWYN SMITH
  PORTENT, GIBSON
  13 AUGUST 3072
  Greetings, noble followers of the Word of Blake! I am Bronwyn Smith with your 
  hourly news bulletin.
  As promised, the latest on our troops’ eff orts to keep Gibson under the 
  protection of the Word of Blake—and those eff orts have borne fruit, thanks to 
  the arrival of the 52nd Shadow Division, led by the great Manei Domini himself, 
  Precentor Apollyon.
  We just obtained this footage, and it shows the warriors of the 52nd emerging 
  from the city of Portent as they engage the Regulan mercenaries and drive them 
  away from our fair city. The Manei Domini’s left fi st is raised in defi ance, reminding 
  the Hussars that they are not welcome on worlds that fall under the protection of 
  the Sainted Blake.
  It should come as no surprise that Precentor Apollyon has appeared as if from 
  seeks out this one house, confi rms that Ms. Granelli is 
  inside, and then destroys her home and kills her even 
  as she pleads for her life.
  Rest assured that this vicious, unprovoked attack 
  on one of our citizens will not go unpunished. The 
  Regulans may think they have the upper hand, but 
  they have not reckoned with the Word of Blake.
  I am Bronwyn Smith, and this has been your hourly 
  news bulletin. Hail the Sainted Blake!
  ▲▼▲
  EXCERPT FROM AN AFTER-ACTION REPORT
  SERGEANT WALTHER O’RILEY-MADDOX
  FOURTH REGULAN HUSSARS
  17 AUGUST 3072
  Intelligence reports had indicated that a supposed 
  civilian named Elsa Granelli had been feeding 
  information about the Hussars to the Blakies thanks to 
  a sophisticated comm network. While our own contact 
  on the ground—a civilian who provided us with the 
  intel we needed to land safely on Gibson—knew of no 
  such fi fth columnist working for the Blakies, our spooks 
  know their shit, so my mission during the invasion of 
  Gibson was to fi nd this Granelli woman, destroy her 
  comm network and eliminate her as well.
  Upon achieving planetfall, Corporal Baqui was able 
  to hack into the local address directory, and fi nding 
  Granelli’s residence was a snap. I went to the location 
  alone, fi guring one ‘Mech could handle it.
  I was right in that. I confi rmed that this was her 
  house, that she was home, and that her house 
  contained some impressive classifi ed equipment that 
  a schoolteacher on Gibson should never have access 
  to—unless she was working with the Blakies.
  The last thing she did before I took her down was 
  ask me why I was doing this. As if the stupid bitch 
  didn’t know…
  ▲▼▲
  WORD AGAINST BLAKE
  PIRATE ‘CAST BY MARIKO GUARDADO
  UNKNOWN LOCATION
  13 AUGUST 3072
  This is Mariko Guardado, with the latest Word Against Blake. If you’re receiving 
  this pirate transmission, then you’re receiving the truth, rather than the lies spun 
  by Word of Blake.
  It’s still the 13th of August, 3072, and we’ve received word from the Hussars’ 
  HPG that the Word of Blake is using their on-planet propaganda machine to try to 
  paint the Regulans as monsters in an attempt to rally support in their lost cause of 
  keeping Gibson as one of the worlds under their alleged “protection.”
  This time, they’re showing footage of a ‘Mech taking down what appears to be 
  a civilian target, a woman they identify as a “schoolteacher.”
  While it’s possible that Elsa Granelli also teaches at a school, what she is truly 
  is a high-ranking operative for Word of Blake. Based on telemetry we’ve received 
  directly from the Hussars, Granelli’s home was fi lled with sophisticated computer 
  equipment akin to that you’d fi nd in an intelligence agency’s secret sub-basement.
  In other words, once again the propaganda machine is crying wolf. Elsa Granelli 
  is not a schoolteacher, she’s an enemy agent, as dangerous as any soldier in one 
  of their Shadow regiments.
  We’ll be bringing you more on the retaking of Gibson soon. This is Mariko 
  Guardado with Word Against Blake, reminding you to keep the truth burning 
  bright.
  ARTIST: FLORIAN STITZ
  PUBLICATION: JIHAD SECRETS: THE BLAKE DOCUMENTS
  YEAR: 2008
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  216
  
  T H R E E  S I D E S  T O  E V E R Y  S T O R Y
  be a Blakist protectorate. That, my friends, is the 
  truth.
  This is Mariko Guardado with Word Against 
  Blake, reminding you to keep the truth burning 
  bright—no matter how hard that might be.
  ▲▼▲
  “M’iko, that Word Against Blake bit you just 
  recorded?”
  “What about it, Patricia?”
  “You can’t send it out.”
  “What? Why not?”
  “Are you out of your mind? Do you know what 
  idiots this makes the Hussars out to be?”
  “I don’t give a fl ying fuck about the Hussars, 
  Patricia. The only thing I care about is making 
  Word of Blake look bad. As far as they’re willing to 
  admit, this was just a schoolteacher, and if I send 
  this out, everyone will see them for being fools.”
  “Yeah, or maybe they know that Granelli was 
  the one feeding the Hussars the intel that got them 
  on-planet safely, Hell, they probably fed the intel 
  to the Hussars that she was helping the Weebs of 
  Blake so that they’d do the dirty work of taking her 
  out—then they turned around and used her as a 
  rallying cry.”
  “So?”
  “So, M’iko, you’re helping the Blakists by sending this out! It confi rms that their 
  enemies are incompetent morons who kill their own spies because they’re too stupid 
  to fi gure it out. That, plus being forced to retreat after they practically had the planet 
  in their hands…”
  “I told you, Patricia, I don’t care about making the Regulans look good. All that 
  matters is—”
  “Is getting your revenge, yeah, I know you’re still pissed at them for fucking with 
  your livelihood, but—”
  “That wasn’t what I was going to say, Patricia.”
  “Fine, what were you going to say?”
  “All that matters is the truth. I just spent my last ‘cast talking about how the truth 
  isn’t pretty and it isn’t pleasant. I can’t just turn around and censor myself because the 
  truth is inconvenient. The whole reason I started this was to counter the Blakists’ lies 
  with the truth.”
  “Truth, huh? Like the truth that the Hussars were going to take Gibson? Like the 
  truth that the Blakists’ hold on Gibson was weak? You said that the Blakists are like the 
  boy who cried wolf, except you forgot one thing: the boy was right in the end. And so 
  were the Blakists. Gibson was impregnable.”
  “What about Granelli?”
  “What about her? Christ, M’iko, isn’t it better that she be remembered as a 
  schoolteacher who was an innocent bystander in combat than as a woman who 
  betrayed her own son and then was killed by incompetence?”
  “I—I don’t know. Honestly, both options are pretty shitty.”
  “Right. So let it lie. Being dedicated to the truth is fi ne, but it doesn’t mean you have 
  to reveal everything.”
  “Let me think about it.”
  ▲▼▲
  WORD AGAINST BLAKE
  PIRATE ‘CAST BY MARIKO GUARDADO
  UNKNOWN LOCATION
  14 AUGUST 3072
  This is Mariko Guardado, with the latest Word Against Blake. If you’re receiving 
  this pirate transmission, then you’re receiving the truth, rather than the lies spun 
  by Word of Blake.
  Today, I want to tell you about a woman named Elsa Granelli…
  nowhere to ride to the rescue of the followers of the Word. The Manei Domini 
  has always been there to rescue the downtrodden. When news of the death of 
  schoolteacher Elsa Granelli reached his ears, he no doubt bent the laws of time 
  and space itself in order to avenge her death.
  This is what the Word of Blake’s enemies never understand. When you live under 
  the protection of the Sainted Blake, all wrongs against you will be avenged.
  I am Bronwyn Smith, and this has been your hourly news bulletin. Hail the 
  Sainted Blake!
  ▲▼▲
  WORD AGAINST BLAKE
  PIRATE ‘CAST BY MARIKO GUARDADO
  UNKNOWN LOCATION
  13 AUGUST 3072
  This is Mariko Guardado, with the latest Word Against Blake. If you’re receiving 
  this pirate transmission, then you’re receiving the truth, rather than the lies spun 
  by Word of Blake.
  At the end of each of these ‘casts, I remind people to keep the truth burning 
  bright. It sounds easy, but it isn’t. The truth isn’t always pretty and it isn’t always 
  pleasant.
  And today my commitment to the truth forces me to say that the Regulan 
  forces that attempted to take Gibson from Word of Blake have failed. The people 
  of Gibson, rather than being liberated from the Blakists, instead continue to be 
  crushed under their iron fi st.
  Blakist propaganda would, of course, have you believe that this was all ordained, 
  especially since the tide of battle turned when the 52nd Shadow Division, led 
  by the self-styled “Manei Domini” himself, Precentor Apollyon, emerged from the 
  buildings of Portent to rout the Hussars. The Blakists are still trying to sell the 
  notion that Elsa Granelli was an ordinary schoolteacher, and the death of that 
  “innocent” woman brought Apollyon back to Gibson in a fl ash.
  The truth, of course, is, as I said, less pleasant. According to my sources, the 
  52nd superjumped back to Gibson for a refi t following their prolonged fi ghting 
  on Alphard. 
  In other words? Dumb luck. The refi t wasn’t scheduled, and had Apollyon gone 
  elsewhere for the refi t, or chosen not to engage in it at all, Gibson would no longer 
  ARTIST: RICK HARRIS
  PUBLICATION: NULL SET
  YEAR: 1992
  ART
  ARTIST
  IST R
  : RICK
  ICK HA
  HARRI
  RRIS
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  217
  
  T E A C H  T H E  W I C K E D
  BASTROP
  HALL
  WORD OF BLAKE PROTECTORATE
  3 APRIL 3073
  The metallic tang of blood woke him. 
  His ears rang from a recent explosion. Grit sealed his eyes shut. The lack of oxygen 
  inside his lungs forced him to cough—though every instinct told him to be quiet. 
  They’ll hear me. 
  Stifl ing a fi t of coughing, Lieutenant John W. Traeger took a methodic check of 
  his body, his position, and the condition of the coff ee shop he’d been sitting in 
  when the explosion happened. Memories of the last few minutes looped in his 
  subconscious: the young couple by the door admiring a display of merchandise; 
  the older couple seated by the windows overlooking the square sharing a morning 
  paper.
  And the little girl smiling shyly at him as she stood with her father by the front 
  counter. In her hand she’d held a small, loved-on teddy-bear. John had winked at 
  her and she’d buried her head against her father’s coat. 
  There was a fl ash—and then nothing. 
  And now as his senses re-ignited--he smelled acrid smoke and oil, felt heat and 
  tasted grit soot and sand in his teeth. He was alive.
  In the distance he heard the thunder of bombs and he felt beneath him—around 
  him—the vibration of ‘Mechs as they clomped through the city. He didn’t need 
  anyone to tell him who had attacked—there was no need. 
  The Shadows had arrived. 
  Waiting for his sight to adjust to the smoke, John found he wasn’t pinned—
  though the street wall of the building had come in on top of him—the table 
  had broke most of it. Somehow he’d dove beneath at the last minute. He had no 
  memory of moving, of reacting a half a beat behind the initial impact. 
  As a soldier he understood the action. As a soldier in the Martian Cuirassiers, 
  John had learned about the two types of memory. Zane Cole taught his unit about 
  it--how the mind has its memories, that of smell, and taste and sound. Yet the body 
  has its own—created of intuition and survival. 
  It was that memory that saved him. 
  But…for what? 
  Sure that the coughing had subsided for the moment, John pushed himself up 
  slowly using his hands and elbows. He paused--listening for any patrols. Wobbies 
  only took survivors for one reason. 
  Re-education. 
  He shivered at the thought of being conditioned to believe any doctrine of 
  poison the Word of Blake concocted. To have that kind of life? And not know it?  To 
  be willing to kill a city to make a point? To not know right from wrong?
  Death was preferable. 
  John pushed up again and winced at the sound of rock and debris tumbling 
  from the table that lay across his back. The clacking of rubble echoed in the small 
  cave that was once the place where he and his wife met—twelve years ago. 
  The place where he’d arranged to meet her today. On their tenth anniversary.
  Sarah hadn’t shown before the bomb hit. Before the attack. He didn’t know if she 
  was somewhere in this ruin or out there…facing the enemy. 
  She could be stuck in a transport or a taxi, or worse--facing down a squad of 
  Wobbie wackos. There were Shadows here—no other Blakist troops would be so 
  violent. 
  Another push and he was on his knees. The ceiling was still intact—partially. Still 
  suspended high enough that John was able to stand. His uniform was torn, ripped 
  at his elbows and his shoulder where a nasty gash bled. Checking the rest of his 
  body, he concluded that was the worst of the damage and he reached to his web 
  belt and pulled out a small med-kit. 
  Quickly he staunched the bleeding with a fi eld bandage and slathered it with 
  antibiotic. The kit had painkillers but he ignored those. This wasn’t the time to dull 
  his thoughts. His only purpose at the moment was to get armed, get out of the ruin 
  and get to a safe place—to Sarah. 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  218
  HALL
  World Name:
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  Position in System: 3
  Time to Jump Point:
  Number of Satellites:
  Surface Gravity:
  Atm. Pressure:
  Equatorial Temperature:
  Surface Water:
  Recharging Station:
  HPG Class Type:
  Highest Native Life:
  Population (3073):
  Socio-Industrial Levels:
  Situated deep within the Terran Hegemony, Hall was spared 
  the depredations of the Age of War and prospered greatly during 
  the golden years of the Star League. The Amaris Crisis and the 
  Succession Wars that followed inﬂ icted heavy damage on the 
  world, eventually leaving it as a border planet between the Free 
  Worlds League and the Capellan Confederation.
  The Fourth Succession War saw Hall become a member of the 
  autonomous Free Tikonov Republic, before being absorbed by 
  the Federated Commonwealth. Generous investment in the so-
  called Sarna March helped to rebuild Hall’s shattered industries 
  just in time for the FedCom’s breakup and the formation of the 
  Chaos March to send things into a downward spiral as numerous 
  factions vied to control the planet. Just prior to the Jihad, 
  Hall rejoined the Free Worlds League, and was subsequently 
  swallowed up by the Blakist Protectorate. 
  An arid world with just two large continents—northern 
  Urra and southern Wass, which contains the world’s capital 
  of Harney—Hall is considered one of the most scenic worlds 
  in known space. Hall’s large deserts are home to a series of 
  strangely compelling rock formations, consisting of solid walls 
  of rock about ﬁ ve meters thick and sometimes more than two 
  hundred meters long and of varying heights.
  o
  o
  d
  F
  n
  e
  d
  g
  d
  u
  o
  u
   
  h
  a
  a
  .
  a
  m
  e
  t
  r
  l
  A
  d
  n
  v
  a
  m
  r
  r
  o
  u
  e
  e
  o
  n
  e
  d
  d
  o
  N
  s
  i
  W
  a
  e
  G
  J
  e
  a
  L
  t
  t
  M
  d
  F
  S
  a
  W
  a
  o
  e
  r
  3
  v
  y
  S
  e
  e
  r
  v
  a
  p
  y
  e
  :
  h
  F
  c
  e
  e
  h
  m
  e
  d
  e
  f
  w
  L
  3
  i
  o
  e
  i
  m
  a
  a
  o
  h
  d
  l
  n
  n
  o
  e
  g
  e
  s
  u
  :
  T
  r
   
  m
  t
  a
  R
  a
  p
  a
  o
  r
  e
  t
  L
  a
  r
  e
  G
  u
  a
  n
  b
  a
  W
  a
  r
  w
  u
  d
  e
  a
  n
  e
  c
   
  n
  H
  a
  s
  a
  s
  o
  r
  a
  r
  m
  w
  r
  s
  e
  e
  b
  e
  v
  a
  e
  ,
  t
  m
  r
  e
  m
  w
  C
  g
  s
  h
  u
  o
  n
  n
  o
  b
  e
  s
  t
  s
  e
  h
  r
  f
  t
  e
  d
  f
  F
  d
  u
  a
  the depredations of the Age of War and prospered greatly during 
  Succession Wars that followed inﬂicted heavy damage on the
  S
  y
  g
  p
  called Sarna March helped to rebuild Hall s shattered industries
  c
  The Fourth Succession War saw Hall become a member of the
  T
  l
  i
  d
  d
  i
  ih
  d
  h
  M
  h
  C
  factions vied to control the planet. Just prior to the Jihad,
  f
  l
  d
  b th
  Bl ki t P
  t
  t
  t
  Socio Industrial Levels:
  S
  Highest Native Life:
  S
  f
  W t
  S
  Atm. Pressure:
  Ti
  t
  J
  P i t
  T
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  S
  HALL
  H
  TEACH THE WICKED
  P H A E D R A  W E L D O N
  
  He checked his radio—dislodged and smashed by falling debris. From the 
  darkness John doubted any power remained in the shop itself. Luckily his pistol 
  was still in its holster. More ammo nestled in the pouches of his belt. 
  After wiping his forehead on his arm, the sweat and grime salty on his lips, John 
  moved gingerly over the pieces of wall, shards of glass, broken ceramic and coff ee 
  grounds. The counter was still intact and he moved behind it—and came face-to-
  face with the barrel of a Nakjama. Behind it was the barista, a kid barely out of his 
  teens. He was shaking. 
  Violently.
  John put a fi nger to his lips and nodded toward the broken windows surrounding 
  him. Either the kid was too scared to care or he recognized John from before—but 
  he lowered the gun and handed it to him.
  “Thanks,” he mouthed as he knelt behind the bar. 
  The kid coughed. He had a nasty cut on his forehead and it looked like his lip had 
  busted open. His eyes were red-rimmed and he was crying. “Mister…”
  “Shhh,” John whispered. He checked the Nakjama and slid it into his belt. Two 
  weapons—better than one. He looked directly into the kid’s eyes. “You the only 
  one alive?”
  He shook his head and then shrugged. “I don’t know. I—I was blown back against 
  the wall.” He looked up at the busted wall where coff ee urns had once rested. 
  Where? Even John didn’t know. “And then I woke up down here. I—the owner 
  had that Nakjama stored under the counter.” 
  John nodded. He was listening...and he was thinking ahead. 
  “Mister…” 
  He looked at the boy. 
  “Who—what’s happened? Is it a robbery? Why would 
  anyone do this?” 
  Putting a hand up to signal silence again, John tilted 
  his head and then pointed at the ceiling with his index 
  fi nger. “Listen…you hear that?” He was referring to the 
  distant explosions, the screams of civilians nearby, and the 
  vibration of ‘Mechs. 
  The kid’s eyes widened and he nodded.
  “This isn’t a robbery—not like you’re thinking,” John said. 
  Though it is a robbery of your freedom if you survive. “What 
  you’re hearing are Manei Domini.” 
  Oops. Shouldn’t have said that. 
  From the past three years that name was now synonymous 
  with murder. With destruction. And with death. 
  The Wobbies had conquered every world they’d invaded. 
  And this kid knew that. And now they were on Hall and 
  fi ghting.  Not just in garrison. Fighting.
  When it looked like the kid was going to scream, John 
  held up the pistol and aimed it at the kid’s face. “Make a 
  sound, and I’ll cap you right here. What we have to do is 
  get out of here and get hidden. If they fi nd us, they’ll shoot 
  or take us captive.” 
  The kid shook his head violently. “No, no, no…I don’t want 
  to be a robot.” 
  “Then do what I tell you to.” Every instinctual warning in his 
  body told him not to take the kid. Survival was easiest without him. 
  It would be easier to kill him now—save his soul from imprisonment 
  inside one of their conditioned slaves. 
  But John had never been one for smart decisions. Look at the one he’d made this 
  morning—to meet his wife for coff ee instead of staying with the unit. Now he was 
  cut off  and in no way equipped to defend anyone. 
  If he’d said no to her request—she’d be home and he’d know where to fi nd her. 
  But now? 
  He was torn in six diff erent directions. 
  “You do what I do. I don’t think there’s anyone left alive in here.” And I don’t care 
  at this point. 
  And then he turned to his left—and saw the bear. 
  The one the little girl had been holding a she clutched her father’s hand. 
  John knelt down beside it, reached out, and picked it up. It was soft—covered in 
  dust. He didn’t know why he opened his shirt and stuff ed it just inside, re-buttoning 
  it to keep it closed and the bear safe. 
  And he didn’t care. 
  radio—dislodged and smashed by 
  bted any power remained in the sho
  r. More ammo nestled in the pouches
  orehead on his arm, the sweat and gri
  er the pieces of wall, shards of glass, b
  er was still intact and he moved behin
  of a Nakjama. Behind it was the baris
  ng. 
  to his lips and nodded toward the brok
  was too scared to care or he recognize
  and handed it to him.
  thed as he knelt behind the bar. 
  He had a nasty cut on his forehead an
  es were red-rimmed and he was cryin
  spered. He checked the Nakjama and
  han one. He looked directly into the 
  d and then shrugged. “I don’t know. I—
  d up at the busted wall where coff e
  didn’t know. “And then I woke up dow
  tored under the counter.” 
  was listening...and he was thinking ah
  boy. 
  appened? Is it a robbery? Why wo
  p to signal silence again, John tilted 
  pointed at the ceiling with his index 
   hear that?” He was referring to the
  the screams of civilians nearby, and th
  dened and he nodded.
  ery—not like you’re thinking,” John s
  ery of your freedom if you survive. “W
  Manei Domini.” 
  have said that. 
  ee years that name was now synonym
  estruction. And with death. 
  conquered every world they’d invade
  that. And now they were on Hall an
  garrison. Fighting.
  ke the kid was going to scream, John
  nd aimed it at the kid’s face. “Make a
  you right here. What we have to do i
  get hidden. If they fi nd us, they’ll shoo
  head violently. “No, no, no…I don’t w
  ell you to.” Every instinctual warning 
  o take the kid. Survival was easiest wit
  to kill him now—save his soul from
  onditioned slaves. 
  er been one for smart decisions. Look 
  his wife for coff ee instead of staying w
  y equipped to defend anyone. 
  her request—she’d be home and he’d k
   diff erent directions. 
  o. I don’t think there’s anyone left alive
  ed to his left—and saw the bear. 
  girl had been holding a she clutched 
  beside it, reached out, and picked it u
  w why he opened his shirt and stuff ed i
  nd the bear safe. 
  e. 
  falling debris. From the
  op itself. Luckily hiss pistol
   of his belt. 
  ime salty on his lips, John
  roken ceramic and coff ee
  nd it—and came face-to-
  sta, a kik d barely out of his
  ken windows sur
  u rounding
  d John from before—but
  d it looked like his lip had
  g. “Mister…”
  d slid it into his belt. Two
  kid’s eyes. “You thhe only
  —I was blown back against
  ee urns had
  a  once rested.
  wn here. I—the owner
  head. 
  ould 
  e 
  e 
  said. 
  What
  mous 
  ed. 
  nd 
  n
  a 
  s
  ot 
  want 
  in his 
  thout him.
  m imprisonment
  at the one he’d made this
  with the unit. Now he was
  know where to fi nd her. 
  e in here.” And I don’t care
  her father’s hand. 
  p. It was soft—covered in
  t just inside, re-buttoning
  ARTIST: KLAUS SCHERWINKSI
  PUBLICATION: A TIME OF WAR: THE BATTLETECH RPG
  YEAR: 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  219
  
  T E A C H  T H E  W I C K E D
  But John had an ulterior motive for climbing up—and not to see if his dead 
  friend’s body was there. After helping on the ‘Mech, Cusak has shown him his 
  secret stash of weapons, his extra insurance policy he’d managed to collect in 
  case he ever found himself in a downed ‘Mech. 
  And still alive. 
  John picked his way to the edge and slid down, careful not to cut himself on 
  jagged metal or touch still-smoldering slag. The compartment was behind the 
  couch, and from what he could tell, still intact. He paused a second, listening for 
  sounds outside. The battle was winding down—and John didn’t have to radio in 
  to his unit to know that Hall was falling. 
  Would fall. 
  Had fallen.
  And the Shadows were relentless in their pursuit 
  of survivors. He and the kid would be found. The 
  spaceports would be fully armed. All traffi  c and 
  out monitored. All communication blocked. 
  There was no point, really. 
  But he wouldn’t give up without a fi ght. 
  It took time to get the compartment open, the 
  latch having resettled and warped when the ‘Mech 
  was hit. Inside he found an automatic rifl e, several 
  small packets of C4 and a small hand-made bomb, 
  one of Cusak’s specialties. 
  John quickly gathered up a spare utility vest, 
  stuff ed the pockets with what he could carry and 
  climbed down from the cockpit. 
  The kid wasn’t there. 
  John looked around the alcove he’d told the kid 
  to stay in but there was no sign of him. He didn’t 
  dare call out in case there were any Wobbies nearby. 
  Either the kid had wondered off  or he’d been 
  captured. 
  Settling down behind the alcove so he could 
  check the automatic, John saw a pool of fresh blood. 
  Either the kid’s or someone else’s, they were here 
  seconds ago. He put his fi nger in the pool. It was still 
  warm. 
  If the kid was taken then he’d either be tortured/
  reconditioned or killed outright. He could see the 
  kid’s face in is mind—begging not to be turned into 
  a robot. 
  Yes, the Manei Domini did resemble robots. 
  Androids. Creatures no longer fully human. He’d seen 
  a Precentor once, years ago. A woman with legs to 
  die for, and arms of cool, smooth silver. To this day 
  he would swear when she looked out from her hood 
  there was no humanity in her eyes. 
  Just monster. 
  ▲▼▲
  What John had to do was make a decision. He could 
  continue heading in the direction of the spaceport and see what condition the 
  ships were in, or he could follow the trail of blood to see what happened to the 
  kid. And if had been taken, kill him. Or he could try to fi nd Sarah.  If she was still 
  alive.
  It was the best he could do. 
  John crouched low and used every tracking skill he had to keep up with the 
  drops of blood as they moved around the building by Cusak’s ‘Mech and down 
  the street. The trail eventually turned back toward the center of town, back the 
  way they’d come. 
  It would stand to reason the kid could have been wounded during the initial 
  bombing and hadn’t noticed he was bleeding until it was too late. Maybe he was 
  panicking, going back to the last place he remembered. 
  Or there was a more insidious plan. 
  John was being led to where the Wobbies that found the kid wanted him. 
  ▲▼▲
  The kid nodded and moved into a crouch, copying John’s movements. With 
  a glance over the counter he led the kid to the back room where the wall that 
  joined the clothing store was missing. Racks of material, shoes and some furniture 
  lay half-buried around them as they moved slowly, and cautiously. 
  There wasn’t any real door left to the place, so John motioned for the kid to 
  keep low as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. 
  It was worse than he expected. 
  More than half of the buildings were little more than 
  mounds of brick, mortar, wire and dust. A cloud of dust 
  and grime hung heavy in the morning air. The smell of 
  oil was overwhelming as the vibration beneath John’s 
  feet announced the movements of a ‘Mech nearby.
  The streets were littered with rubble and bodies, 
  half-crushed automobiles—they looked like the 
  mangled toys of a child cast aside after play in a 
  children’s city of building blocks. He saw several 
  downed ‘Mechs, on fi re, black smoke billowing. 
  And he recognized their markings. 
  Martian Cuirassiers. 
  So his unit had had advance warning—but from 
  the looks of the damage—it wasn’t enough. Not 
  enough to stand against a Shadow Division.
  Motioning to the kid, he crouched even lower, 
  had his pistol ready and started toward the west side 
  of town—to the spaceport, his unit’s ships. But the 
  journey was slow-going as he and the kid spotted 
  battlesuits with Wobbie emblems. John pulled the 
  kid with him into an alcove and slapped a hand over 
  his mouth as the suit used a fl amethrower to ignite a 
  few survivors screaming for help from the wreckage 
  of a family car.
  A roaring overhead brought them out of the 
  alcove and John looked up to see Word of Blake 
  ships fl y over in formation. He saw more bombs 
  dropping in the distance. 
  Bombs. Or ‘Mechs. 
  The two of them avoided the scarlet robes of 
  the Wobbie ground crews as they mopped up the 
  mess, incinerating bodies as they passed. The smell 
  of burnt fl esh clung to the back of John’s mouth 
  but he kept going, either dragging or pushing the 
  kid along.
  They made it a good kilometer or so toward the 
  spaceport before John saw another of his unit’s 
  downed ‘Mechs. This one he recognized. It was 
  Cusak’s Javelin. It was on its side, the cockpit a 
  smoking crater. John stood in its shadow, staring. 
  So many times he’d fought beside this ‘Mech, 
  driving the ammo trucks, even helping on its 
  maintenance. To see it like this—John’s eyes burned and he clenched his free 
  hand into a fi st. 
  “Oh my god,” he kid said on his right. “This is a nightmare.” 
  John nodded but said very little. He retrieved the Nakjama from his belt and 
  handed it to the kid. “You keep this on you—hide in those shadows. I’m going up 
  there,” he said as he holstered his pistol. 
  “No,” the kid pulled on his arm. “You can’t leave me here—”
  But John ignored him, using his good arm and shoulder to pull himself up to 
  the closest ladder rung. Climbing up to what remained of the cockpit was tricky—
  the metal was still hot in places, and slippery with oil, but after a few minutes or 
  so, John reached the cockpit’s edge. 
  There was little to nothing left of the couch where Cusak piloted the ‘Mech. 
  He was somewhat happy his friend had died quickly, and not in the hands of the 
  Wobbies. 
  s
  w
  r
  k
  a
  A
  a
  d
  h
  th
  an 
  st 
  of 
  ’s
  s, 
  e
  a 
  l 
  m
  t 
  f
  o
  w
  o
  c
  t
  s
  a
  A
  f
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  220
  
  T E A C H  T H E  W I C K E D
  ARTIST: KLAUS SCHERWINSKI
  PUBLICATION: JIHAD HOT SPOTS: 3076
  YEAR: 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  221
  
  T E A C H  T H E  W I C K E D
  John stopped his tracking and hid behind a wall of rubble. He needed to think. 
  To a civilian such thinking would seem paranoid. But John’s instinctual memory 
  called out to him. He’d been here before. He’d fought against guerrillas before. 
  He understood the Wobbies’ need to control everything about an individual until 
  there was no more individual. Manipulating John to return to the coff ee shop 
  would be within their control.
  Was this what was happening now? 
  Or was he being paranoid? 
  Several minutes passed before he continued tracking the kid’s blood. The trail 
  led him back to the ruined coff ee shop and a street beyond in the city’s square. 
  Before the morning’s destruction, the square had been the hub of traffi  c, an 
  interconnection of roads, a latticework of traffi  c lights and pedestrian crossings, 
  the center fountain was fashioned in the likeness of the town’s founder and 
  surrounded by a plethora of food stands. John and his wife had frequented the 
  square on his rare visits. Earlier they’d planned on grabbing a quick breakfast and 
  then shopping together. 
  And after that—the ending to a perfect day. 
  Now there was little more than chunks of concrete and slices of glass decorating 
  the square. The fountain was a mound of ash and rubble where a ‘Mech and 
  crushed it underfoot. A stream of water shot a high in the air as the pressure died. 
  The buildings that protected it from wind and sun were gone. Crushed fl esh, bone 
  and twisted metal was all that remained. That and the overwhelming stench of 
  death.
  But the square was far from empty. 
  John moved behind the half-standing walls, his eyes taking in the sight as he 
  found a place to hide. 
  Two ‘Mechs framed the crushed fountain, their upper-torsos twisting back and 
  forth as their pilots scouted the area. Wobbies in battlesuits along with crimson-
  robed infantry checked bodies, dragged them along and began making piles 
  along the sidewalks. 
  In the center stood three fi gures—two dressed in white, the center draped in 
  heavy, crimson robes with gold trim.
  The hood of the scarlet robe was pulled over the face like a cowl, hiding his 
  features. The two in white could not have been more diff erent. 
  One was male, with a silver skullcap. His face was only half fl esh—the other half 
  was a network of gears and metal rings like the inner workings of a chronometer. 
  His robe glistened in the sun that tried to peek through the thick smoke. 
  The other—
  John swallowed. The other fi gure was feminine in a most attractive form. Un-
  hooded, her head was devoid of hair and when she turned her eyes gleamed silver 
  in the sunlight. Her bare arms and most of her legs protruded through deftly-cut 
  slits in her white robe and John noticed most of what he saw was body armor. 
  She was the most beautiful—and the most terrifying—creature he had ever 
  seen. 
  The sight that pulled him away from the three was the small corral of people to 
  the right, surrounded by the crimson-robed infantry. John couldn’t see everyone 
  clearly—but he did see enough to realize survivors were being held in a Wobbie-
  made pen. 
  He needed to get closer. He needed to know what was going on. 
  Looking down, he realized he was an obvious target. Death would be a welcome 
  end before capture. But if he were taken he would be stripped of his weapons. 
  And he’d need a way to strike back, if only against himself.
  How best to hide them? 
  John removed all that he had and took stock of it, laying it carefully on the 
  cracked concrete ground. Something protruded from is middle and he unfastened 
  his shirt. 
  The teddy bear stuck its head out—and an idea came to him. 
  Using a knife from the medkit to rip a hole in the seam of the bear, he set the 
  trigger of the bomb before stuffi  ng it inside the toy. Using the needle and thread 
  to sew up teddy-fl esh, he mended it carefully. Sweat beaded down his face and 
  dripped from his nose. 
  It took half an hour of careful work, but he had a disguised working explosive. 
  He carefully tucked the bear back into his shirt. He had to make sure not to fall on 
  the bear—direct pressure like that would set it off  and take out everything in a 
  huge radius. He knew how Cusak’s bombs worked. Small package, big delivery.
  And if that didn’t work, it had a timer. 
  ARTIST: FLORIAN STITZ
  PUBLICATION: JIHAD HOT SPOTS: 3076
  YEAR: 2009
  ART
  ARTIST
  IST F: FLOR
  LORIAN
  IAN ST
  STITZ
  ITZ
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  222
  
  T E A C H  T H E  W I C K E D
  John kept his gaze on the tall one, Apollyon. Though he was every bit as 
  dangerous as the other two, there seemed to be a calm about him. As if he had 
  not a worry in the world. “Lieutenant John Traeger, Martian Cuirassiers.”
  “Ah,” Apollyon said in a neutral tone. “So there is a survivor from that mercenary 
  unit. I will commend your comrades, Lieutenant. They fought bravely.” 
  John took a deep breath. “But not bravely enough.” 
  “Brave is brave, Lieutenant Traeger. They were hired to do a job. Despite their 
  failure in that task, they fought bravely.” 
  John cleared his throat. He saw the corralled prisoners behind the Precentor. A 
  mingling of women, men and children. Very small children. 
  One small child in particular. 
  The little girl from the coff ee shop. 
  Apollyon noticed his look and glanced back. “Oh, the survivors. A few of them 
  will be joining us, Lieutenant. They’ll be conditioned and re-educated and brought 
  into the new world. I’m more fond of the younger ones— they’re more pliable and 
  do not take up our resources.” 
  John kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t sure what to do—he hadn’t imagined the 
  child would still be alive. He had hoped his wife at least—but not her. 
  Apollyon looked at him. He smiled cordially. “I take it you know about our 
  training program.” 
  “I’d rather die, sir. I would request it of you. Soldier to soldier.” 
  The hooded man shook his head slowly. “I’m no soldier, Lieutenant. I’m a 
  peacekeeper. And sometimes it is better to teach the wicked a better way to live 
  than to give them the solace of death.” He frowned at the front of John’s shirt and 
  reached out with his clawed hand. 
  The shirt tore and the Precentor caught the stuff ed teddy-bear with a nimble 
  reaction. He frowned at it and then looked at John. “This was your child’s?” 
  “No,” John swallowed. “It belongs to that girl.” He nodded to her, standing 
  beside a girl maybe fi ve years older than she was. They were clutching each other 
  in terror. “I saw her earlier. I didn’t know she was alive.” 
  Apollyon nodded. “She is marked for education. And so will you be.” He looked 
  at the infantry. “Bind him.”
  John winced as his arms were jerked roughly backward and his lower arms 
  were secured tightly to each to each other. His shoulder sang in pain but he used 
  that pain to keep a fi rm focus on what could happen.
  If luck was with him.
  He was marched past Apollyon to the corral of people and moved to right 
  beside the two girls and two older men. Six others were held away from the 
  others. Before John realized what was happening he was shoved to the ground 
  and his ankles were bound tightly. He was helpless. 
  The staccato release of a machine gun broke the silence as two infantrymen 
  opened up on the segregated survivors. They fell as bullets riddled their bodies 
  and blood fl ecked on John’s and the girls’ faces. The girls screamed and huddled 
  near him on the ground as the old men began to pray. 
  Apollyon gave orders to fi nish things up and bring a transport to move the 
  survivors. The two Demi-Precentors remained nearby as he stepped past the 
  infantry barricade and knelt in front of the little girl. Her eyes, full of tears, widened 
  and she shrunk back from the monster in front of her. 
  “This is yours, I believe,” Apollyon said. His voice was silk, and his demeanor that 
  of a savior. “It is best he remain with you for your journey.” 
  The little girl wasn’t sure what to do. John could see she wanted her bear back, 
  wanted her daddy, but she was afraid. She whimpered softly. 
  The older girl prompted her to take it. And fi nally she did reach out with small 
  hands and take her treasure back. 
  Apollyon smiled and stood. And then he walked away and disappeared. The 
  two white-robed Demi-Precentors gave orders. The transport had arrived. 
  The older girl looked at the little girl and smiled. John smiled at her and caught 
  her eye. “What is his name?”
  Her voice was a whisper. “Bear-bear.” 
  John felt his eyes burn as sadness overwhelmed him. “I think Bear-bear missed 
  you…and he could use a hug.” 
  Her smile lit up his heart as she squeezed the bear to her tiny chest as hard as 
  she could.
  It was perfect. If they took a piece of him. He’d take a piece of them. 
  He had the auto slung over his shoulder as he moved cautiously around the 
  square from building to building. As he neared the department store closest to 
  the fountain’s remains, he found he could hear what the three were saying. 
  “…as easy as you estimated,” the white-robed man said as he faced the 
  woman. 
  She smiled and her eyes seemed to glow on their own. “Ah, Rochart, you’re 
  such a pessimist. The battle is over. There was little resistance—especially from 
  the mercenary unit at the spaceport.” 
  “Yes,” said the hooded man in the crimson robes. His face was turned away from 
  John. “The resistors.  A pity their sacrifi ce didn’t save the city.”
  “Such is the fate of all who reject the orders of the Master’s chosen,” the woman 
  said. “The Martian Cuirassiers broke their contract when they refused to make an 
  example of the city. They paid the price.” 
  “They were pathetic,” the white-robed man spat. “Useless.”
  Were pathetic. John closed his eyes. That was the confi rmation he needed. 
  The unit was gone.  Death was preferable, he remembered.  Death to becoming 
  monsters like these.
  “Were we able to salvage any of their ‘Mechs?” the hooded man asked. 
  “Yes,” the white-robed man jumped in before the woman could answer. “We 
  have seven.” 
  “Seven?” the hooded man’s melodious voice rose just a half-octave. “Out of how 
  many ‘Mechs total? My, my, Precentor Rochart. It seems to me that if they were as 
  useless as you complain, then you should have been able to salvage more than 
  seven.” 
  The woman smiled. John remembered seeing that sort of predatory expression 
  before. 
  On a tigress. 
  The white-robed man looked less happy. 
  The hooded man turned then, and John saw his face. 
  He wasn’t sure what he thought he expected—only that what he saw did not 
  match the monster he thought he would see. 
  The man was tall—taller than the two fl anking Wobbies. The face that peered 
  out from beneath the robe had an ethnic color and features to it—Polynesian 
  perhaps? The only cybernetic enhancement John could make out on his face was 
  a glowing green right eye. 
  As he moved, his right hand resembled more of a metallic claw, and his legs 
  looked to be either cyborg or encased in body armor. He was a daunting fi gure, 
  imposing. 
  And he was important. 
  John quietly pulled his weapon up and braced it against the ruin. He sighted on 
  the man through his scope—fi xed it over where his heart should be. 
  If he had a heart. 
  “You can try and shoot me,” said the hooded man. “But I’m afraid that weapon 
  will not damage my body.” 
  It wasn’t until the image in his scope looked directly at him through the 
  targeting sight that John realized he was talking to him. 
  With a curse he sat up from the weapon. All three of them were facing him. 
  There was no panic on their faces. It was as if they’d all seen nothing more than 
  an unpleasant bug. 
  Movement behind him told him he’d been spotted by the infantry. Within 
  seconds he was surrounded and he put his hands in the air. The weapon and the 
  vest and web belt were removed and he was marched down the ruin to where 
  the three stood. 
  He was almost even in height with the hooded man. And this man was even 
  more daunting close up. The woman’s eyes were what frightened him the most, 
  and he realized she wasn’t bald as he had fi rst thought. A short cap of black 
  stubble covered her scalp, as if she’d shaved her head and the hair had had time 
  to grow back. 
  “I am Precentor Apollyon of the Fifty-Second Shadow Division. This is Demi-
  Precentor Setiwah,” he nodded to the woman, “and Demi–Precentor Magna 
  Rochart.”
  Both of them nodded. 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  223
  
   
  ARTIST: ALEX IGLESIAS
  PUBLICATION: HANDBOOK: MAJOR PERIPHERY STATES
  YEAR: 2009
  YEAR: 2009
  YEAR: 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  224
  
   
  ARTIST: NEIL ROBERTS
  PUBLICATION: A TIME OF WAR: THE BATTLETECH RPG
  YEAR: 2009
  YEAR: 2009
  YEAR: 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  225
  
  W E L L  M E T  T H E  F U T U R E
  ARTIST: ALEX IGLESIAS
  YEAR: 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  226
  
  W E L L  M E T  T H E  F U T U R E
  VALNYA, TUKAYYID
  GHOST BEAR DOMINION
  11 OCTOBER 3073
  Until you greet your friends’ children as adults, you never truly feel your own 
  mortality. Your own children never aff ord you that luxury. My children were yet just 
  infants. Through them I could see life continuing. They were hope of immortality.
  And yet, in a very dark time, not much of it.
  Through the years—the years of endless warfare—I’d watched too many sons 
  and daughters die. One of the odd things about our MechWarrior way of life is 
  that when a father dies in a war machine, it’s repaired, and the family off ers up 
  another member like a sacrifi ce. In any other line of business, people would run 
  screaming away from the thing that killed a parent; but MechWarriors were drawn 
  like moths to a fl ame.
  You do have hopes, sometimes, that the cycle will be broken. I had long thought 
  my guest would escape.
  I’d not seen David Lear in years, many of them. Small like his mother and slender 
  like his father, his bright eyes shared his parents’ intelligence. His Capellan heritage 
  had also sharpened his eyes a bit, and when he smiled I recalled his father, Kai, 
  from our early years. The same intensity and good nature.
  He’d come straight from the spaceport. His green uniform showed wrinkles 
  from a reentry harness, but he moved with none of the stiff ness that burning into 
  an atmosphere imparted to me these days. I would have envied him his youth, 
  but the journey had been the least grueling of the things he’d endured recently.
  The young man off ered me his hand. “Highness, thank you for seeing me.”
  I shook it fi rmly. “Highness long past, Dr. Lear.”
  David blushed. “Not a doctor yet, Precentor Martial. I need to complete that 
  dissertation.”
  I covered his hand with mine. “No titles, then. Friends should never be trapped 
  by ceremony. Call me Victor.”
  “I wish I could.” White teeth fl ashed. “My father would be pleased with your 
  invitation, but mortifi ed if I accepted it.”
  I laughed. “I imagine he would. Your parents are well?”
  The young man nodded. “You would know better than I. I was given 
  communications from both as the ship came down. Were there problems, I 
  suspect you’d have been informed.”
  I waved him toward the couch in the temporary offi  ce our hosts supplied me. 
  “In the old days, ComStar might have told me some things, but we’re not terribly 
  given to reading content these days. The Blakists give us more than we can 
  handle.”
  “They do that with everyone.” He nodded, then sat on the close end of the 
  sofa.
  I moved behind the chair closest to him. Nothing of the furnishings matched. 
  All of it—provided by the frugal generosity of Tukayyid’s new Clan rulers and their 
  Rasalhagian friends—showed wear, but given the privations of the war against 
  the Word of Blake, I was fortunate to have an offi  ce at all, much less equipment to 
  fi ll it. What once would have been described as squalor now seemed unparalleled 
  luxury.
  David didn’t seem to notice. If even half of what he’d been through in the last 
  two years was true, he must have thought himself back in the opulent days when 
  his grandmother ruled the St. Ives Compact. Those days, so distant now, and the 
  Inner Sphere so diff erent.
  I leaned forward on the chair. “I’ve read all the material your father forwarded. 
  Your arguments, very well reasoned. Concise and incisive, suitably informative. 
  You’re an excellent analyst. If you want to come work for me, I’ll hire you in a 
  heartbeat.”
  “Thank you.” David glanced down at his hands. “I think you understand that 
  what I’m involved in now is more than a job.”
  “A cause.”
  “More than that, even. A vocation, really. A lifelong commitment.” He glanced 
  up. “You know. You believe in things. You’ve made choices, hard choices.”
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  227
  TUKAYYID
  World Name:
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  Position in System:
  Time to Jump Point:
  Number of Satellites:
  Surface Gravity:
  Atm. Pressure:
  Equatorial Temperature:
  Surface Water:
  Recharging Station:
  HPG Class Type:
  Highest Native Life:
  Population (3073):
  Socio-Industrial Levels:
  A relatively mild and somewhat arid world, Tukayyid was ﬁ rst 
  settled in the 27th century. Most of Tukayyid’s landmasses are 
  comprised of grassy plains controlled by large agrocombines. 
  During House Kurita’s rulership of the world, several minority 
  religions came to Tukayyid and set up monastic communities in 
  the mountains, and even under the Crucible Sea. As a result, 
  Tukayyid’s population stayed relatively small and the planet 
  possessed a decentralized government, with each corporation 
  running its holdings like a ﬁ efdom.
  Everything changed in 3052, when ComStar challenged the 
  Clans to ﬁ ght a proxy battle on Tukayyid for control of Terra. 
  Some seventy-two ComStar divisions faced off against twenty-
  ﬁ ve Clan Galaxies in the largest engagement since Kerensky’s 
  liberation of Terra. The battle lasted for twenty-one bitter days, 
  but in the end ComStar won a ﬁ fteen-year truce from the Clans. 
  Following the battle, ComStar made great strides in restoring 
  the world and attracting large numbers of refugees from across 
  the Free Rasalhague Republic. Tukayyid remained a ComStar 
  staging ground and eventually became its home following the 
  loss of Terra to the Blakists in 3058.
  This made the world a primary target during the Jihad, and 
  the Blakists wrought massive devastation on the planet while 
  attempting to destroy their heretical brethren. Unable to watch 
  this horriﬁ c assault on their Dominion kin, Clan Ghost Bear 
  launched an assault to cleanse the world of the Blakist taint in 
  3070. With the approval of the Rasalhague Riksdag, Tukayyid 
  and the remaining Free Rasalhague worlds were swallowed up 
  by the Ghost Bear Dominion. Since then, the Bears have set 
  about rebuilding this shattered world once more.
  n
  a
  C
  e
  s
  e
  i
  e
  y
  m
  o
  n
  p
  e
  r
  o
  u
   
  h
  a
  a
  .
  a
  m
  e
  t
  r
  l
  U
  e
  v
  t
  s
  n
  c
  o
  d
  v
  d
  o
  N
  s
  i
  W
  a
  e
  G
  J
  e
  a
  K
  e
  x
  y
  c
  l
  d
  p
  s
  e
   
  m
  r
  3
  v
  y
  S
  e
  e
  r
  v
  a
  p
  y
  e
  :
  A
  m
  g
  s
  i
  n
  T
  r
  s
  h
  L
  3
  i
  o
  e
  i
  m
  a
  Y
  r
   
  h
  m
  e
  s
  e
  y
  p
  n
  s
  u
  :
  T
  D
  n
  t
  r
  r
  l
  0
  e
  e
  n
  a
  r
  s
  .
  e
  e
  f
  s
  t
  n
  m
  e
  e
  s
  p
  n
  s
  a
  -
  g
  s
  k
  e
  e
  v
  p
  t
  e
  i
  r
  t
  m
  c
  d
  o
  s
  c
  o
  w
  y
  a
  o
  c
  t
  t 
  o
  ta
  l
  t
  g
  s
  o
  e
  c
  g
  t
  h
  h
  d
  o
  v
  g
  n
  a
  h
  t
  e
  t
  o
  n
  r
  e
  u
  o
  s
  w
  a
  d
  s
  e
  e
  a
  a
  s
  e
  o
  n
   
  settled in the 27th century. Most of Tukayyid s landmasses are 
  s
  During House Kurita’s rulership of the world
  several minority
  g
  yy
  p
  Everything changed in 3052
  when ComStar challenged the
  E
  Tukayyid s population stayed relatively small and the planet
  T
  ff
  d
  f
  i
  id
  S
  C
  S
  ﬁve Clan Galaxies in the largest engagement since Kerensky s
  ﬁ
  th
  d C
  St
  ﬁft
  t
  f
  th
  Cl
  i
  Socio Industrial Levels:
  S
  Highest Native Life:
  S
  f
  W t
  S
  Atm. Pressure:
  Ti
  t
  J
  P i t
  T
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  S
  TUKAYYID
  T
  WELL MET THE FUTURE
  M I C H A E L  A .  S T A C K P O L E
  
  W E L L  M E T  T H E  F U T U R E
  ARTIST: FLORIAN STITZ
  PUBLICATION: JIHAD HOT SPOTS: 3076
  YEAR: 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  228
  
  W E L L  M E T  T H E  F U T U R E
  That neither he nor David trusted me enough to let me know that Stone was 
  coming here, on the other hand, irked me. Such a breach of diplomatic protocol 
  was all but unforgivable—and a capital off ense in some circles. That just wasn’t 
  how these things were done.
  But then, Devlin Stone hasn’t been playing by the rules. And he’s been successful.
  Seated in a small vehicle as David drove, I smiled. Perhaps there is a lesson here for 
  all of us. The time for protocols and conventions may be long past.
  David had found a small house on the outskirts of the city, up in the hills. 
  He’d rented it while his DropShip had been incoming. It had been abandoned 
  for a while—weeds had grown up to hide the realtor’s sign. Another four 
  or five years of Blakist problems, and whole worlds would be deserted and 
  overgrown.
  Built of river-stone, with a slate roof and tucked back on a wooded lot, the house 
  suggested peace and sanctuary. For a man who had been in constant danger for 
  two years, that sense was invaluable. Yet it probably hadn’t been Stone’s choice. 
  David picked it out—both for Stone and me. Both of us could use a sanctuary.
  I fell in love with the place the instant it came into view. Within a week I would 
  buy the house and yet, ironically, spend less than a month in it over the years. 
  Still, that time was cherished, and I always told myself it was to that house that I 
  would retire.
  If I ever got the chance.
  David swerved around a furry mound that looked like roadkill. “Forgive my 
  erratic driving. Blakists started hiding improvised explosive devices in animal 
  carcasses about eight months back.”
  “No need to apologize. I’m surprised, however, that you haven’t been in a ’Mech 
  cockpit.” I glanced at him. “Given your bloodline…”
  David’s expression tightened. “Word of Blake thought the same thing. They 
  wanted me fi ghting for them. Did everything they could to break 
  me down. Resiliency of youth, my ties to my heritage, I don’t 
  know, but I remembered who I was. I remembered that 
  I don’t like war, that I don’t want to kill. Pacifi sm isn’t 
  something you want in a MechWarrior.”
  “Truth be told, David, I would welcome it in 
  more warriors. Knowing how to kill isn’t much 
  of an accomplishment. Knowing when it’s 
  necessary is the trick.”
  He half-smiled as he pulled into the drive 
  and then around the house. “I’m glad to 
  hear you say that.”
  “Why?”
  He glanced at me curiously, then returned 
  his gaze to the shadowed driveway. “Too 
  many people can only see the enemy, and 
  don’t look at what has to happen after the 
  war is won. The end of war doesn’t guarantee 
  peace. Peace is much harder work, especially 
  if you want it to last.”
  He stopped the vehicle and we got out. Dying 
  sunlight poured through the leafy canopy. I paused 
  for a moment, willing myself to think of nothing 
  beyond my range of vision. Green warmth, the 
  rustle of leaves, the chittering of an outraged 
  squirrel, I let all those things take me 
  back to a day when that was the 
  norm. Not that I had ever known 
  many of those days. Have you 
  ever known any, Victor?
  David 
  led 
  me 
  in 
  through the back door. I 
  didn’t notice any alarm 
  system. I didn’t see any 
  guards. I wasn’t sure 
  if that was good or 
  I sighed, my shoulders aching as I held myself up. “It’s not the choices that are 
  hard; it’s the living with the consequences.”
  “Yeah.” David lifted his chin. “The consequences of this choice are huge.”
  “I suspect no one understands how big. Even the man himself.” I plucked a 
  command remote from my desk and fl icked the monitor on the far wall to life. 
  A mélange of videos melded one into the other. Shots of combat, with ’Mechs 
  hammering each other competing with shadowy shots of a large man. The legend 
  beneath the images read Can Devlin Stone be stopped?
  David glanced at the monitor, then smiled. “Those reports aren’t the real 
  thing.”
  “There are undoubtedly many who wish they were.” I nodded. “I know this is all 
  Blakist propaganda. Even so, these reports shape perception, David.”
  “And that’s why I’ve come to you, Precentor Martial.” David opened his hands. 
  “People see Devlin Stone and what he’s done as a nightmare. It’s not. It’s a vision. 
  You can make them see that.”
  “You credit me with a great deal.”
  “I know what I know. About you. About him.” David stood. “He’s saved my life 
  more times than I can count.”
  “For that he is owed great thanks.”
  David glanced down for a second. “It’s funny, but my father used to tell me 
  stories about you. I mean, neither one of us is tall, right; so he wanted me to know 
  that I could do great things just like you. That size wasn’t a limitation.”
  My cheeks burned. “Your father is very kind. He could have found much better 
  role models for you.”
  “Devlin Stone is the same way you were, sir. One guy against Word of Blake, but 
  he never let limitations stop him.” The younger man shook his head. “I watch him 
  act, and I hear echoes of my father’s stories about you. Please, sir, meet with him. 
  Listen to his vision. Then decide if you will help.”
  I scratched my cheek. Devlin Stone had appeared from nowhere. With David 
  Lear he’d engineered a revolt that freed Kittery from the Word of Blake. Not 
  content with that sole victory, they had spread out and liberated other 
  worlds. The battling had been fi erce. In the struggle for freedom, 
  Stone had been relentless.
  And in peace, he and David had been innovative. They 
  organized their worlds into an administrative district and set up 
  a self-sustaining economy. They defi ed the Blakist attempts at re-
  conquest and retribution. Their successes had outstripped that 
  of any other organized resistance. The chance to meet with the 
  architect of such an accomplishment was hard to refuse.
  I nodded. “Bring him here. I’ll meet with him.”
  David shook his head. “You have to go to him.”
  I laughed. “Kittery is a long journey from here, two months 
  minimum, with a command circuit. If these preliminary meetings 
  go well, then perhaps I could make the journey.”’
  “You don’t understand, Highness, he’s closer than you think.” 
  David’s eyes tightened and I noticed his crow’s-feet for the fi rst 
  time. “Devlin Stone is here. He’s waiting for you.”
  ▲▼▲
  I fear I didn’t do a very good job of covering 
  my surprise. Here? And I didn’t know? That 
  I didn’t know bothered me greatly. I 
  admired Stone’s ability to move 
  about without notice. That 
  had kept him alive during 
  a time when the Word 
  of Blake wanted him 
  dead. I’d even heard it 
  posited that there was 
  not one Devlin Stone, 
  but several. Word of 
  Blake just hadn’t 
  gotten around to 
  killing off  the last 
  of them.
  ARTIST: BEN NEWMAN
  PUBLICATION: MASTERS & MINIONS: 
  THE STARCORPS DOSSIERS
  YEAR: 2009
  carcasses about eight months back.”
  “No need to apologize. I’m surprised, however, that you hav
  cockpit.” I glanced at him. “Given your bloodline…”
  David’s expression tightened. “Word of Blake thought th
  wanted me fi ghting for them. Did everything t
  me down. Resiliency of youth, my ties to
  know, but I remembered who I was
  I don’t like war, that I don’t want
  something you want in a Mec
  “Truth be told, David, I w
  more warriors. Knowing h
  of an accomplishment. 
  necessary is the trick.”
  y
  He half-smiled as he p
  and then around the h
  hear you say that.”
  “Why?”
  He glanced at me curio
  his gaze to the shadow
  many people can only s
  don’t look at what has t
  war is won. The end of wa
  peace. Peace is much har
  if you want it to last.”
  He stopped the vehicle and
  sunlight poured through the lea
  for a moment, willing myself 
  beyond my range of vision.
  rustle of leaves, the chitter
  squirrel, I let all tho
  back to a day 
  norm. Not th
  many of th
  ever kno
  Dav
  throu
  didn
  sys
  gu
  if 
  u.”
  the same way you were, sir. One guy against Word of Blake, but
  tions stop him.” The younger man shook his head. “I watch him
  oes of my father’s stories about you. Please, sir, meet with him.
  . Then decide if you will help.”
  heek. Devlin Stone had appeared from nowhere. With David 
  ed a revolt that freed Kittery from the Word of Blake. Not 
  sole victory, they had spread out and liberated other
  ng had been fi erce. In the struggle for freedom,
  lentless.
  he and David had been innovative. They
  orlds into an administrative district and set up
  conomy. They defi ed the Blakist attempts at re-
  ribution. Their successes had outstripped that
  nized resistance. The chance to meet with the
  n accomplishment was hard to refuse.
  him here. I’ll meet with him.”
  head. “You have to go to him.”
  ery is a long journey from here, two months
  command circuit. If these preliminary meetings 
  aps I could make the journey.”’
  erstand, Highness, he’s closer than you think.” 
  ened and I noticed his crow’s-feet for the fi rst
  e is here. He’s waiting for you.”
  ▲▼▲
  a very good job of covering 
  And I didn’t know? That 
  ?
  ered me greatly. I 
  bility to move 
  notice. That 
  ve during 
  e Word 
  d him
  ard it 
  was 
  ne, 
  of 
  ’t
  o 
  ARTIST: B
  PUBLICA
  THE STAR
  YEAR 20009
  YEAR: 20009
  YEAR: 20
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  229
  
  W E L L  M E T  T H E  F U T U R E
  I’d played that rhetorical game before. “Liberation from oppression and fear 
  means a lot.”
  “You don’t want me to play with you, Victor, don’t play with me. I don’t like to 
  lose, so I don’t.”
  “Then don’t ask me a question, just deliver your answer. That’s what you want 
  anyway, so let’s go.”
  Stone frowned for a second, then nodded. “You take a world, the faces on coins 
  change. One offi  cial language moves to the top of signs, the others shift down. 
  You send your tax money to a diff erent place. Long as your house survived the 
  fi ghting, life doesn’t change much. And the people go on. True?”
  “I won’t argue the point.”
  “Good. So, there’s an old saying, ‘All politics is local.’ A person’s world usually 
  isn’t any bigger than they can see. Maybe as far as they can travel in a day. Beyond 
  that it’s news. Background noise in their life. It’s the stuff  that happens to someone 
  else, some sad-sack over in the next region. It just doesn’t matter to them.”
  “I can see that.”
  “Here’s how we do things diff erent. We make it so everything matters.” He 
  glanced past me to David. “He makes the ideas work.”
  I looked at David. “Your reports indicated what had been accomplished, but not 
  how it was all done. Perhaps I should have read past the numbers.”
  David smiled sheepishly. “The Word of Blake completely shattered or subverted 
  the bureaucracies that ran the worlds they conquered. No authority save their 
  own.
   Repression was brutal and swift. They fragmented society, isolated groups, 
  ruled through fear. They took the best and brightest, then tossed them into 
  reeducation camps.”
  The giant laughed. “Not always the best and brightest.”
  David shared the laugh—clearly an inside joke. “Once we escaped and got 
  rid of the Blakists, we rebuilt Kittery from the ground up. We started with those 
  isolated groups, and showed them how to work together. We claimed ownership 
  of everything that had been abandoned or orphaned. We nationalized a lot of 
  stuff , then leased it back to folks. We used taxes and fi nes to punish greed, then 
  turned around and funded projects that would benefi t everyone. ‘No bitching, 
  just better planning,’ became the motto.”
  “I came up with that.” Stone punctuated the comment with a wry chuckle. 
  It struck me that the same sound could be more sinister, as the selfi sh had 
  undoubtedly discovered.
  David frowned. “On Kittery it was pretty easy. We’d freed them. People knew 
  who my grandmother had been. Same with my grandfather and father.”
  Stone growled in a low voice. “The night we escaped, some folks in the town 
  took us in. I didn’t know why, until they took us down to the basement. There, in a 
  corner, they had a shrine—candles, joss-sticks. And pictures of David’s family, like 
  saints. Up to that point I had no idea who the kid was.”
  David’s cheeks fl ushed with color. “My family connections bought us some time 
  and credibility. We asked folks to do ‘one more thing.’ It didn’t matter what, but we 
  rewarded those who did. Invest yourself in your community, and you prosper.”
  “Abuse power and trust, you get slapped down hard. If they were governing, 
  the punishment was worse.” Stone’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re industrious and do 
  well, great. If you help others do well, even better. David indexed taxes not by how 
  much money a business makes, but by its benefi t to the community. He factors 
  in how many folks they employ, how much public work they do. You want to do 
  business, you take a Hippocratic oath—promise you’ll do no harm. You lie, we 
  take your stuff  away and give it to someone else who doesn’t.”
  Militant socialism keyed to altruism. I rubbed my hands together. “You can’t 
  entirely eliminate corruption.”
  “Nope, but you can take the profi t out of it.”
  “You see, Precentor Martial, we require all elected or appointed offi  cials to place 
  their holdings into a blind trust. That trust is their bond. If they can’t uphold their 
  duties, if they succumb to corruption, all that is forfeit even before the assessment 
  of criminal penalties. Forfeiture may be mitigated if you give evidence against 
  your co-conspirators.”
  “But, David, if you do that, you’ll never get qualifi ed people willing to run for 
  offi  ce.”
  Stone grunted. “The folks who do will be less qualifi ed than the ones we have 
  now exactly how?”
  I had to laugh. “You may have a point there.”
  bad. Either Devlin Stone was supremely confi dent, or foolishly over-confi dent. Or, 
  worst of all, a fatalist.
  David paused inside the doorway of a room that had once been the house’s 
  library. Later I would fi ll the shelves with books, but their empty state now made 
  the room seem cavernous and barren. A small fi re burned in a hearth that had 
  been fashioned of the same river stones as the house. It brought a modicum of 
  cheer to the room that otherwise could have been a sepulcher.
  The blaze illuminated the giant known as Devlin Stone. Half-golden from the 
  fi relight, and half hidden in shadows, he easily could have been mistaken for a 
  Clan Elemental. Brooding and powerful, the kind of man who made you wonder 
  if you wanted to be walking on the same side of the street, or if it was time to get 
  out of his way.
  He walked fl uidly toward me, his long legs eff ortlessly shortening the distance 
  between us. Easily half a meter taller than me, he engulfed my hand in his and 
  shook it as David made introductions.
  “Precentor Martial Victor Davion, this is Devlin Stone.”
  I nodded. “Pleased to meet you.”
  Stone released my hand, then stepped back. “You can call me whatever the hell 
  you want. I’ll call you Victor. If you want to stand on ceremony or be miff ed, I think 
  we’re done.”
  I hesitated for a moment. All my life I’d hated people paying me deference because 
  of my heritage and rank. And yet here, when a man chose to ignore both, it shocked 
  me. What I had once hated, I’d grown used to, and apparently even expected.
  I nodded, once. “As you wish, Mr. Stone.”
  He grunted, his eyes half-closing. “David says I need you.”
  “If you didn’t think David was right, you wouldn’t be here.” I shrugged, 
  unbuttoning my jacket. “Do you?”
  “Good answer. What I expected.” Stone smiled. I didn’t quite fi nd it infectious, 
  but it was reassuring to a certain extent. “David sent reports. You know what 
  we’ve done.”
  “Very impressive.”
  “You aren’t scared?”
  “Should I be?”
  “If you’re smart enough to read beyond the numbers, yes.” Stone nodded grimly. 
  “Because it’s not what we’ve done, it’s what we’re going to do.”
  An icy trickle ran through my belly. “I didn’t think you were a prophet.”
  “Not a prediction, just fact.”
  I arched an eyebrow. “Then what are the facts, as you see them?”
  “It’s like this, Victor.” The man’s dark eyes brightened. “I’m going to do what no 
  one, not even the Star League, has ever managed to do. A complete and sustained 
  overhaul of human society.”
  I moved to the fi re to warm myself, holding my hands out, my back to Stone. 
  “You’ll forgive me, but I’ve heard those words more times than I can count. 
  Madmen, dreamers, schemers and politicians; they all have a plan to change 
  society. They don’t meet with much success.”
  “Yeah, but some do. There’s common elements with the ones who do.” Stone 
  appeared at my right shoulder, likewise warming himself. “Every one of them was 
  in favor of sharing and peace. They were anti-greed and anti-war. Fact is, if folks 
  can’t kill each other, sharing is the easiest way to get along. That’s what we’re 
  going to do. Stop them from killing, get them sharing.”
  I frowned, staring into a vision of fi re that would burn on thousands of worlds. It 
  wouldn’t take much to ignite those fi res, but putting them out would be hell itself. 
  “How will you do that?”
  “It’s not theory. We’ve already done it. Tax the heck out of greed, reward sharing, 
  and punish thieves fast and harshly. Make people realize that if they don’t work 
  together, they’re going to starve. Give them all a stake in what happens.”
  I crossed my arms. “Quite a tall order for humanity, as spread out as we are.”
  “You believe that?”
  “That’s been my experience.”
  “You’re supposed to be smarter than that.”
  My nostrils fl ared. “I appreciate that you’re measuring me, trying to see the kind 
  of man I am. I don’t need the baiting. I’m here to listen. If I didn’t think you had a 
  plan, if David’s reports hadn’t showed me something, I wouldn’t be here. You want 
  to fi ght, let’s do it over something substantive, shall we?”
  Stone turned to me, nodding. “I hear you. So, okay. You’ve conquered worlds 
  before. Tell me, what diff erence did it make to the folks on the ground?”
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  230
  
  W E L L  M E T  T H E  F U T U R E
  ARTIST: FRANZ VOHWINKEL
  PUBLICATION: STRATEGIC OPERATIONS
  YEAR: 2009
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  231
  
  W E L L  M E T  T H E  F U T U R E
  “And I am an enemy?”
  “I approach everyone as if he is. That attitude has its uses.” Stone’s 
  face remained half-hidden in shifting shadows. “Lots of people have 
  asked your question. You alone among the Inner Sphere’s leaders could 
  understand my answer.”
  “You underestimate my peers.”
  “You underestimate how unique you are.” Stone shook his head. “You, 
  Victor, you alone have remade yourself. You started as Hanse Davion’s 
  son. You fought your way out from beneath his shadow. You could have 
  continued to be like him when you inherited his realm. You fought to 
  change how things were done. You succeeded. On Luthien, you became 
  a diff erent man yet again.”
  “I died on Luthien.” My ribs ached from an old wound.
  “And I died on Kittery.” The big man’s hands tightened into fi sts. 
  “The Blakists broke 
  me. Killed the old me. 
  They gave me a new 
  name: Devlin Stone. 
  They tried to rebuild 
  me. Didn’t take. They 
  were trying to make 
  me 
  into 
  someone. 
  Someone the name 
  just didn’t fi t.
  “I clung to that. 
  I didn’t know who 
  Devlin 
  Stone 
  was. 
  Didn’t wait to fi nd out. 
  I decided who I wanted 
  him to be. I picked and 
  chose. No baggage. 
  No assumptions. You 
  know how liberating 
  that is.”
  A shiver ran down 
  my spine. My past 
  had always trapped 
  me. It had forced me 
  into 
  situations 
  and 
  circumstances. When 
  I died, I had a chance 
  to change things. I did 
  change things. I no 
  longer made choices 
  based on what was 
  expected of me by 
  others, but based on 
  what I expected of myself. I defi ned myself. I defi ned success and failure. I had no 
  masters other than myself so yes, I did know how liberating that was.
  And how dangerous.
  Stone’s voice softened a bit. “I made Devlin Stone. What you’ve seen, the stories 
  you’ve heard, that’s me. I take risks. Fortune favors the bold. I aim to be her favorite. 
  But I know my limitations. I rely on my friends, like David.”
  He smiled and looked at the other man. “He’s my conscience. If he says I’ve 
  overstepped, I step back. If he says I’m going to overstep, I stop. I may be my own 
  master, but I’m not an idiot. I’m neither invincible nor infallible. David is my guide. 
  His word is law.”
  David smiled. “It’s true. I got my hatred of violence with mother’s-milk. We do 
  everything we can to minimize death and pain.”
  “But when something needs killing, I kill it.” Stone barked a short laugh. “Not 
  thing, someone needs killing. Lot of that going around.”
  “You think I might need killing?” I met his gaze openly, read his expression. 
  He didn’t need to answer. If I needed killing, I’d be dead. Not here, not now, but 
  eventually and probably soon.
  “Precentor Martial, Devlin identifi ed you as the only person who could 
  understand and who has the vision to see the future—or both futures. One of 
  David opened his 
  hands. “The fact is, 
  Precentor 
  Martial, 
  that 
  the 
  system 
  has 
  worked 
  on 
  Kittery for eighteen 
  months. We’ve got a 
  dozen more worlds 
  in the conversion 
  process, all of them 
  working together. 
  We 
  know 
  these 
  are 
  extraordinary 
  results under what 
  are 
  extraordinary 
  c i rc u m s t a n c e s. 
  Part of the reason 
  it works is that our 
  army has pulled 
  just about every 
  ‘Mech 
  off  
  every 
  world. 
  We’ve 
  demilitarized 
  the 
  Kittery Prefecture.”
  Which 
  means 
  you’ll be prey once 
  the Word of Blake 
  problem is handled. 
  “Are you sure that’s 
  wise?”
  Stone 
  cracked 
  his knuckles. “You’ve seen 
  warfare. If half of what I read 
  about you is true, you’ve got 
  more scars than I do. Back in the days when each guy would have a 
  rock or stick, fi ghts were small. No collateral damage. Armies would 
  decide where to meet, beat the heck out of each other. Sure, there 
  were massacres and towns got sacked, but we’re still talking limited 
  damage. Now some moron pops into a ’Mech, he can sterilize whole 
  cities just because he’s having a bad day.”
  There was no faulting his logic. Greed and avarice had caused 
  more destruction and death than even I could imagine. The desire to 
  become First Lord of the Inner Sphere had prompted countless wars 
  for centuries. As long as one man thought he had more power than 
  another, he could rationalize anything into a casus belli. My father was 
  a master of that sort of thing, and marked his wedding to my mother 
  by launching a war.
  “So you take the weapons away, reserving them to the central authority. The 
  central authority decides when to deploy them, yes?”
  Stone nodded.
  “And you’re that authority?”
  “I am.”
  “And you think I would endorse an eff ort that concentrates that much power in 
  the hands of one man?” I shook my head. “How can I do that? Can I trust you? Who 
  are you, Devlin Stone?”
  The giant shook his head. “You don’t want to know who I am. You just want to 
  know who I was.”
  His reply came forcefully. I realized in that instant that I had thought I was in 
  charge of the interview. David had come to me, but it was not about bringing this 
  man for my blessing or my help.
  This is an audition. Not for Stone, but for me.
  My eyes tightened. “Why am I here?”
  Stone gave me a wry smile. “David said you were clever and very quick.” He 
  backed from the fi re, clasping those massive, scarred hands at the small of his 
  back. “You’re right. I’ve been pushing you, seeing how you answer. Given a chance, 
  I study my enemies.”
  ARTIST: RAY ARRASTIA
  PUBLICATION: JIHAD SECRETS: THE BLAKE DOCUMENTS
  YEAR: 2008
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  232
  
  W E L L  M E T  T H E  F U T U R E
  I frowned. “But there’s the rub. How do you take their ’Mechs away?”
  “Swords into plowshares. A ’Mech is a livelihood. We exchange one for another.” 
  Stone opened his hands. “Have you ever known a MechWarrior who didn’t want 
  to retire to some quiet little estate, or to open his own bar or get back to whatever 
  his parents used to do? We make that a reality. And we require him to keep his 
  skills sharp, just in case we have to call upon him to defend his home. David said 
  it best.”
  The younger man smiled. “People want power. We give them responsibility and 
  opportunity.”
  “And if they overstep?”
  Stone ground a fi st into his open palm. “Virtue is rewarded. Vice is punished.”
  I covered my face with my hands. Could it work? The Inner Sphere was in such 
  pain and chaos that what it needed had become a glowing opportunity. Stone’s 
  read of the leaders wasn’t far off  my own. There was a chance.
  Stone cut through my thoughts. “Afraid it won’t work, Victor, or that it will work 
  too well?”
  My guts twisted and hands fell. “Lots of nasty people die in revolutions, but the 
  rivers of blood fl ow from innocents.”
  The giant exhaled heavily. “Help me make sure that doesn’t happen.”
  Something in the sound of his voice hit me. “Despite our best intentions, 
  innocents will die.”
  “I know.” He nodded. “Sometimes I wonder if I was one of the innocents, or one 
  of the ones who needed killing. I’ll never know. What I do know is 
  that I need people I can trust; whose judgment I can trust. 
  Whose vision I can trust.”
  I regarded him openly. “You’ll be killed for 
  this.”
  “It’s been tried.”
  “Compared to Sun-Tzu and his 
  minions, the Blakists are Girl 
  Guides out selling cookies.”
  Stone chuckled. “Could be. 
  I’m not afraid of dying. Are 
  you?”
  I 
  thought 
  for 
  a 
  moment of my children 
  and 
  never 
  seeing 
  them 
  again. 
  My 
  heart ached. Then 
  I thought of the 
  future we would 
  build for them.
  “No. I guess not.” 
  I smiled, and again 
  off ered the man 
  my hand. “And even 
  if I was, this cause 
  would be worth it.”
  peace and the other of unending warfare. What we are going to do is to push 
  beyond the Kittery Prefecture. Call it a revolution, call it whatever you want, we 
  are going to overturn the status quo and provide a safe haven for people who 
  are willing to live in peace. If they want to renounce the gun and work for the 
  general welfare, they will prosper in peace and see that prosperity continue for 
  their children and grandchildren.”
  I hesitated. What David hinted at was pure madness. It would be an ideological 
  crusade that would remap the Inner Sphere forever. It wasn’t the fi rst time this 
  had been attempted, and wouldn’t be the last. And, truth be told, the Kittery 
  Prefecture was a promising start. But if they succeeded too well, the nations 
  would unite to crush them. They had to, since the revolution would forever alter 
  their way of life.
  Which, to date, is one of warfare and fear.
  Would the extinction of that way of life be a bad thing?
  Devlin Stone clapped his hands. “Yes. He sees it, David.”
  I took a step back, my hands coming up. “If you grant that I have vision, know 
  that I see the bad as well. Yes, Word of Blake has so smashed things that you have 
  your opportunity. No doubt about that. But there are forces that must crush you. 
  Will crush you.”
  Stone shook his head. “No. No, they won’t, Victor, not if you’re with us. With 
  your backing, I go to the Kells. Morgan Phelan Kell, they’ll see the wisdom of 
  this. They’ve fought as hard as you to preserve the Inner Sphere. They’ll support 
  us. And Hohiro Kurita, he’ll join you. Your sister Yvonne, your 
  brother, they’ll at least think about things. If we survive 
  infancy, we have a chance to grow into a shining 
  example.”
  I nodded slowly, my brain fl ashing with 
  images, numbers. “We would start 
  through endorsing you as the most 
  eff ective anti-Blakist movement. 
  We would be coordinating 
  with you.”
  The giant smiled in a 
  way that would make 
  his enemies weep. “We 
  administer 
  liberated 
  worlds. We reorganize 
  them according to 
  David’s plans. We 
  let foreign troops 
  garrison 
  the 
  worlds. 
  We 
  get 
  them 
  integrated 
  and invested in 
  the fortune of the 
  local communities. 
  We invite them to 
  come and stay.”
  that I need people I can trust; wh
  Whose vision I can trust.”
  I regarded him ope
  this.”
  “It’s been tri
  “Compar
  minions, 
  Guides
  St
  I’m
  y
  hink about things. If we survive 
  ce to grow into a shining
  rain fl ashing with
  would start
  as the most 
  vement. 
  nating 
  a
  e 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  233
  
   
  ARTIST: DOUG ANDERSEN
  PUBLICATION: MECHWARRIOR COMPANION
  YEAR: 1999
  YEAR: 1999
  YEAR: 1999
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  234
  
   
  ARTIST: LES DORSCHEID
  PUBLICATION: MECHWARRIOR: THE BATTLETECH ROLE PLAYING GAME SECOND EDITION
  YEAR: 1991
  YEAR: 1991
  YEAR: 1991
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  235
  
  It is the 32nd century. After decades of peace and prosperity, interstellar 
  communication breaks down and wars and rumors of war sweep through the 
  universe. As ancient hatreds and rivalries rear their ugly heads, people who 
  have only known war through history books are suddenly thrust into the dark 
  maelstrom of combat. Some fi ght for king and country, others for money and 
  power, others for love—all will struggle to defeat those who would see them 
  destroyed, while protecting the only homes they have known.
  Welcome to the Dark Age Era.
  INTRODUCTION
  As with BattleTech, the MechWarrior: Dark Age (or the second edition of this 
  game, MechWarrior: Age of Destruction) game system published by WizKids LLC 
  takes you into the world of the 32nd century (the Dark Age Era), where war has 
  once again become a way of life and various local factions declare for the vast star 
  empires that wage war for control of the known universe.
  Just like the various other game systems set in the BattleTech universe 
  published by FASA Corporation/FanPro/Catalyst Game Labs—such as Succession 
  Wars, BattleForce and BattleTroops—this game system is not compatible with the 
  original BattleTech system, nor is it meant to replace it. It is simply a diff erent, 
  exciting game system set in the BattleTech universe. 
  TO THE FUTURE
  The Dark Age Era begins in 3132, roughly 56 years after the current BattleTech 
  timeline. The following paragraphs provide a brief overview of events, expanding 
  on the universe timeline provided in this book and acting as a bridge between the 
  history described in A Time of War (see p. 6) and the Dark Age Era (see p. 16).
  3067
  At the end of the FedCom Civil War, the various leaders of the Inner Sphere 
  realize that the new Star League was simply a political maneuver to be used 
  against the Clans, and subsequently dissolve the League. Almost immediately, 
  Word of Blake zealots—a reactionary splinter group from ComStar—unleash 
  a jihad against the entire Inner Sphere, using resources they’ve skimmed from 
  the Free Worlds League for years to build up a mighty secret army, along with 
  covertly hired mercenary units, clandestine operations, assassinations and more. 
  Simultaneously, they fl ood the HPG network, eff ectively crashing interstellar 
  communications. Using agents planted years before, they manipulate House 
  and Clan communications and cause enough havoc to eff ectively launch their 
  holy war. With the Word of Blake out to destroy their opponents (as opposed to 
  the traditional goal of simply taking territory), coupled with the inability to trust 
  their own intelligence, the leaders of the various factions are thrown into chaos, 
  allowing the Blakists to slowly gain ground.
  3071-3078
  After long years of war, a hero arises from the ashes and decrees a new order. 
  Devlin Stone comes to prominence as a leader of the people, slowly builds an 
  army and pushes back against the Word of Blake. With each new success, more 
  warriors fl ock to his banner, speeding victory and fi nal triumph as his stature 
  grows to mythological proportions among the general population.
  3081
  Under the guidance of Devlin Stone, the Republic of the Sphere is born. The new 
  realm soon faces problems, however. Though Stone and other Republic leaders 
  have de facto control of their worlds—Stone has a huge army, the Houses are 
  weakened by having barely survived more than a decade of brutal war, and many 
  citizens of the Successor States view Stone as a hero—the House Lords remain 
  unpredictable in their reactions, with most attempting to negotiate which worlds 
  along their borders will and will not become part of the Republic.
  House Liao refuses to participate or cede worlds. The Free Worlds League 
  has multiple delegations to its Parliament that demand to be seated, creating 
  chaos and confusion, with each one willing to give away worlds they do not own. 
  Ultimately, the Free Worlds factions are too weak to hold the planets demanded 
  by the Republic and too interested in fi ghting each other to oppose the Republic’s 
  acquisition of those worlds.
  3085
  Though offi  cially formed in 3081, it is not until 3085 that all but House Liao 
  formally acknowledge the Republic, sending ambassadorial delegations to Terra. 
  The worlds in Liao space that fall within the Republic’s umbrella cite their past 
  independence (Chaos March, pre- and post-) as reason to leave the Capellan 
  Confederation and join the Republic. House Liao does not relinquish rights to 
  them, however, and often rattles sabers suggesting that the Republic invaders 
  will be forced out.
  During this same period, from 3085-3093, the Draconis Combine has renewed 
  trouble with reactionary internal elements that protest the loss of worlds, but are 
  eventually put down.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  M E C H W A R R I O R :  D A R K  A G E
  236
  THE DARK AGE
  
  ARTIST: VIC BONILLA
  PUBLICATION: MECHWARRIOR AD
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  M E C H W A R R I O R :  D A R K  A G E
  237
  
  Succession Wars plus the Jihad saw these worlds more brutalized than almost any 
  others in the Inner Sphere at the hands of those same Great Houses.
  Devlin Stone understood that the key to erasing the cultural diff erences that 
  had led to centuries of war was to mix the populations on the worlds of his new 
  Republic. However, he knew that mass deportation and importation of people 
  was simply impossible on planetary scales. Instead, he instituted numerous 
  programs that gave monetary and political incentives for people to relocate. This 
  caused a small but signifi cant amount of population movement throughout the 
  Republic.
  With the factories of war quickly retooled for a peacetime market, the Republic’s 
  economy boomed. As unrest surged in the territories of the various Houses and 
  Clans, they were forced to follow suit, paring down their militaries in an eff ort 
  to match the Republic’s prosperity and appease their own masses. All of this led 
  to a “golden age” of peace and prosperity, where an entire generation grew up 
  without knowing war. When the HPG communications grid goes silent, however, 
  and ambitious people seek to gain power by whatever means necessary, this 
  generation fi nds they must take up the plows that their grandparents fashioned 
  from swords and turn them back to weapons once more.
  3095-3113
  Republic forces are called upon to fight on their borders with the Capellan 
  Confederation and the Free Worlds League. The FWL battles involve repulsing 
  “liberation” attacks promulgated by political leaders who try to increase their 
  power by showing they will stand up to the invaders. These attacks are dealt 
  with shortly and sharply. Stone threatens to run Republic troops into the FWL 
  to create a buffer zone of worlds, and the FWL politicians back down.
  House Liao approaches the problem diff erently. Starting in 3104, they engage 
  in revolutionary and terrorist activities on Republic worlds they once possessed. 
  They strike primarily at traitors who ceded the worlds, as this also terrorizes local 
  leaders on the border who have been considering a petition to join the Republic.
  In 3111, a Capellan Confederation Warrior House regiment lands on the planet 
  Liao in an attempt to liberate it, but ends up razing the DropPort and most of the 
  surrounding city to the ground. Tens of thousands die.
  Horrifi ed at such barbarism, the Republic takes the gloves off . Stone sends in 
  his heaviest units to put down the Liao insurrections in Prefecture V. Unwilling to 
  back away, House Liao counters with a massive push of front-line units across the 
  border.
  In early 3113, House Liao forces in the Republic are utterly beaten and forced 
  back into the Confederation. As with the Free Worlds League, the Republic 
  threatens to invade and create a buff er zone, forcing the Chancellor to sue for 
  peace.
  3130
  Devlin Stone announces his withdrawal from public life. He swears he will 
  return if the Republic, or the rest of the Inner Sphere, ever needs him—then he 
  vanishes.
  3132
  Hyperpulse Generator Alpha Stations around the Republic and throughout the 
  Inner Sphere suff er attacks from without and sabotage from within, eff ectively 
  ending interstellar communications for 80 percent of all populated worlds. 
  No group takes responsibility; no clues point to a single perpetrator. Tensions 
  heighten between political and social factions, each suspecting the others of 
  causing the communications breakdown. Fighting breaks out as social pressures 
  reach critical mass. To compensate for the rarity of military-grade BattleMechs, 
  many groups and governments mount IndustrialMechs with weaponry and use 
  these machines in combat. A new battle for control begins, threatening the very 
  existence of the Republic of the Sphere.
  THE REPUBLIC OF THE SPHERE
  Both the Great Houses and the Clans have survived for centuries, so a mere 
  56 years cannot see them undone. Almost all the factions present in previous 
  BattleTech eras still exist in the Dark Age Era, though a few surprises have been 
  introduced.
  The most signifi cant change, obviously, is the formation of the Republic of the 
  Sphere in 3081.
  The Republic of the Sphere—usually shortened to the Republic—was formed 
  by Devlin Stone following the fi nal defeat of the Word of Blake forces. With a 
  huge coalition force and ordinary citizens from every faction loyal to Stone and 
  his ideals, he announced to the House leaders that he would form a new realm, 
  taking control of all planets within 120 light-years of Terra (Earth). This task was 
  made all the easier as those core worlds generally despise the Great Houses. 
  Local populations view them as the destroyers of the Star League, and the four 
  ARTIST: PAUL WESBERRY
  PUBLICATION: MECHWARRIOR AD
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  M E C H W A R R I O R :  D A R K  A G E
  238
  
  Lyran
  Commonwealth
  Draconis
  Combine
  Federated Suns
  The Republic
  of the Sphere
  Capellan
  Confederation
  Magistracy
  of
  Canpous
  Free
  Worlds
  League
  Clan
  Wolf
  Clan
  Jade
  Falcon
  Clan
  Hell's
  Horses
  Rasalhague
  Dominion
  Raven
  Alliance
  Marian
  Hegemony
  Rim Collection
  Rim
  Territories
  Lothian
  League
  Fronc
  Reaches
  Taurian
  Concordat
  Calderon
  Protectorate
  Filtvelt
  Coalition
  Duchy of
  Tamarind-Abbey
  Regulan Fiefs
  Rim
  Commonality
  Duchy of
  Andurien
  The Marik-Stewart
  Commonwealth
  The Oriente
  Protectorate
  MAP OF THE INNER SPHERE
  AND NEARBY PERIPHERY POWERS
  Tortuga
  Dominions
  Coreward
  Spinward
  Anti-spinward
  Rimward
  Map compiled by COMSTAR.
  From information provided by the COMSTAR EXPLORER CORPS
  and the STAR LEAGUE ARCHIVES on Terra.
  © 3130 COMSTAR CARTOGRAPHIC CORPS
  The Barrens
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  M E C H W A R R I O R :  D A R K  A G E
  239
  
  M E C H W A R R I O R :  D A R K  A G E
  ARTIST: VIC BONILLA
  ARTISTS: VIC BONILLA & BRENT EVANS
  ARTIST: VIC BONILLA
  ART
  ARTIST
  ISTS: VIC
  VIC BO
  BONIL
  NILLA
  LA & B
  & BREN
  RENT E
  T EVAN
  VANS
  ARTIST: VIC BONILLA
  ARTIST: KIAN NG
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  240
  
  M E C H W A R R I O R :  D A R K  A G E
  ARTIST: VIC BONILLA
  ARTIST: ETHAN PASTERNACK
  ARTIST: VIC BONILLA
  ARTIST: VIC BONILLA
  AR
  VIC BONILLA
  ARTIST: V
  ARTIST V
  ARTIST: VIC BONILLA
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  241
  
  M E C H W A R R I O R :  D A R K  A G E
  M E
  M E
  M E
  M E
  M E
  M E
  M E
  M
  C H
  C H
  C
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W A
  W
  R R
  R R
  R R I OO
  I OO
  I OO
  I
  R ::
  R :
  R
  D
   D
   D
   D
   D
   
  A R
  A R
  A R
  A
  K   
  K
  A G
  A G
  A
  E
  ARTIST: VIC BONILLA
  PUBLICATION: TECHNOLOGY OF DESTRUCTION
  YEAR: 2004
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  242
  
  PROCYON
  World Name:
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  Position in System: 2
  Time to Jump Point:
  Number of Satellites:
  Surface Gravity:
  Atm. Pressure:
  Equatorial Temperature:
  Surface Water:
  Recharging Station:
  HPG Class Type:
  Highest Native Life:
  Population (3123):
  Socio-Industrial Levels:
  Procyon was settled early, in 2134, and the resource-rich 
  world soon became a stronghold of the various Terran empires—
  the Terran Alliance, the Terran Hegemony, and the Star League. 
  After more than six centuries of prosperity, respect and glory, 
  Procyon suffered the fate of many Terran-ruled worlds: nuked, 
  gassed and smashed by the marauding armies of the Great 
  Houses.
  Following Amaris’s ill-conceived (but elaborately planned and 
  executed) coup, Procyon was abused by would-be suitors until it 
  ﬁ nally fell under the aegis of the Free Worlds League, which ruled 
  it for two centuries. It later switched hands to the Capellans, then 
  the Federated Commonwealth in the Fourth Succession War, 
  and spent a couple of hellish years under a Blakist renegade 
  (who was excessive even by the standards of the fanatics) before 
  being recovered by the Free Worlds.
  Procyon is a battered planet, but a populous one that has 
  retained an educated, relatively well-off citizenry. Despite the 
  damage of centuries past, the world has recovered well. The 
  vestiges of the Star League and old wars are crumbling ruins 
  while forests and small cities grow once again across the 
  planet’s surface.
  The northern supercontinent of Greene is home to the majority 
  of Procyon’s cities and agroplexes, along with the capital of 
  Guilded Halls, while to the south the rocky continent of Halbiero 
  contains most of Procyon’s major industries. The miniature 
  island-continents that form the heavily wooded Unspoiled Isles 
  stretch along the southern hemisphere to the east of Halbiero.
  g
  s
  F
  y
  u
  l
  s
  e
  y
  r
  T
  d
  o
  o
  u
   
  h
  a
  a
  .
  a
  m
  e
  t
  r
  l
  R
  o
  n
  r
  c
  u
  )
  n
  s
  r
  n
  o
  n
  d
  o
  N
  s
  i
  W
  a
  e
  G
  J
  e
  a
  O
  e
  e
  c
  d
  u
  e
  p
  m
  s
  r
  h
  a
  c
  a
  r
  3
  v
  y
  S
  e
  e
  r
  v
  a
  p
  y
  e
  :
  C
  y
  e
  l
  m
  e
  r
  s
  t
  s
  e
  e
  e
  L
  3
  i
  o
  e
  i
  m
  a
  Y
  o
  t
  i
  o
  l
  a
  e
  e
  t
  s
  u
  :
  T
  e
  t
  i
  a
  sw
  t
  a
  c
  h
  o
  i
  r
  g
  r
  e
  s
  e
  i
  h
  F
  b
  m
  a
  o
  H
  n
  d
  e
  h
  W
  d
  u
  u
  T
  o
  m
  h
  3
  s
  s
  d
  w
  a
  g
  n
  r
  y
  r
  a
  h
  h
  e
  d
  a
  m
  e
  r
  d
   
  n
  k
  c
  a
  e
  s
  w
  e
  r
  s
  r
  i
  a
  h
  r
  n
  h
  s
  r
  m
  u
  e
  g
  W
  t
  r
  n
  G
  g
  e
  -
  world soon became a stronghold of the various Terran empires
  w
  After more than six centuries of prosperity respect and glory
  A
  y
  y
  ﬁnally fell under the aegis of the Free Worlds League which ruled
  ﬁ
  Houses
  W
  i
  S
  h
  F
  h
  i
  h
  l
  C
  d
  d
  F
  h
  and spent a couple of hellish years under a Blakist renegade
  a
  d b th
  F
  W
  ld
  Socio Industrial Levels:
  S
  Highest Native Life:
  S
  f
  W t
  S
  Atm. Pressure:
  Ti
  t
  J
  P i t
  T
  Star Type (Recharge Time):
  S
  PROCYON
  P
  END TRANSMISSION
  S T E V E N  M O H A N ,  J R .
  M E C H W A R R I O R :  D A R K  A G E
  COMSTAR HPG COMPOUND, GUILDED HALLS, GREENE
  PROCYON, PREFECTURE X, THE REPUBLIC
  7 AUGUST 3132
  The coming of a great storm is often heralded by no more than the merest 
  stirring of an uneasy wind. Unfortunately, those who could not tell the diff erence 
  between a pleasant breeze and the gathering of a storm’s massive power were 
  sometimes destroyed by the forces they could not see or understand.
  Adept VI-(not really) alpha Patricia Harwell made it a point to always know 
  when the storm was coming. 
  So she didn’t need anyone to tell her what was happening when Precentor 
  Jordan DeSolvo stepped into the HPG’s control room, leaned over the screen at 
  an empty workstation, and sucked in a startled breath. She watched his face go 
  white as he placed a trembling hand on the console to steady himself.
  Patricia leaned against the wall in a quiet corner of the room, arms folded across 
  her chest, her face empty of all emotion.
  Watching.
  Anyone watching her would’ve seen a lovely young woman with shoulder-
  length raven hair wearing white coveralls. The coveralls and the capital “A” at the 
  corner of her adept insignia marked her as a comtech and ComStar had a million 
  comtechs.
  No one would’ve given her a second look.
  DeSolvo swallowed, glanced over at her, saw her watching. He scowled. Then 
  he waved her over.
  She pushed off  the wall with one shoulder and strolled across the room with 
  a decided air of indiff erence. She wasn’t the HPG’s tech lead. This wasn’t her 
  problem.
  The control room was fi fteen meters in diameter reaching up to a domed ceiling. 
  Consoles and computer equipment ringed the space, paneled in brushed steel. 
  Black leather chairs sat in front of the consoles, three occupied by technicians in 
  ComStar white. The fl oor was green marble.
  Well below the room and underground was the HPG core, a plasma chamber 
  akin to a fusion reactor where microscopic, artifi cial jump points could be 
  generated. The chamber was the business end of the HPG, transmitting and 
  receiving densely packed radio signals through hyperspace. Overhead, atop 
  the building, was an antenna fi fty meters across, which linked the station to its 
  customers: the billions of inhabitants of Procyon. And a hundred meters away, 
  also underground, was the fusion reactor that quietly supplied the HPG with the 
  power needed for its impossible task.
  And the task was impossible, by the laws of the universe literally impossible, 
  which was why they had to tunnel into another universe to send their messages.
  Patricia stepped next to DeSolvo. “Another one?” she asked in a low voice.
  “We’re working on it,” he said tightly.
  “Why work on it? If it’s all just clanking gears and properly calibrated wave 
  guides, if there really is no ghost in the machine, why not just fi x it?”
  He glowered at her.
  DeSolvo was a reformer, one of the species of leaders that had cast the 
  great communications company adrift from its technoreligious roots. Patricia 
  wasn’t sure what she was, secularist or traditionalist. But she knew she didn’t 
  like DeSolvo’s prissy self-righteousness. Especially when it fractured under the 
  crushing pressure of repeated failure.
  “Maybe,” she said, “you don’t know nearly as much as you pretend to.”
  “Maybe,” he said, “you’d have a better appreciation of technical problems if you 
  really were a technician.”
  She shook her head. “So, how bad?”
  He exhaled heavily and handed her a carefully folded piece of paper.
  She opened it and sucked in a startled breath. “Blake’s Ghost,” she whispered.
  She had known the message would be garbled. But the worst part was not the 
  distorted text. It was the message header: “Ms. Katherine McKenzie, 241 Surefi re 
  Way, Guilded Halls.” Obviously a commercial residence. The subject line said: 
  “Happy 50th Anniversary.” But what followed was completely wrong. The text was 
  an eyes-only message for Knight-Errant Ravi Talwar from the Exarch himself.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  243
  
  M E C H W A R R I O R :  D A R K  A G E
  ▲▼▲
  The man’s commercial truck license said “Conrad Tuttle.” The name was as 
  phony as the company whose name was spray-painted across the silver tanker 
  trailer that rode behind his rig. “Signal Energy and Power,” proclaimed the truck 
  in meter-high letters of dark blue. (Right over where it said: “Liquid Natural 
  Gas.”) It always made Tuttle smile. When you thought about it, it was really 
  funny. Damn funny.
  Not that anyone was likely to get the joke.
  At least not until it was too late.
  The light turned green and Tuttle put the truck in gear and turned the wheel 
  hand-over-hand, heading left on Halbiero Avenue. The big diesel growled, 
  momentarily drowning out the synth-pop riff  coming out of his radio.
   Halbiero was one of the capital’s major thoroughfares, six lanes wide and fairly 
  crowded with traffi  c, though it was just after nine-thirty, so the morning commute 
  was over and the lunch rush hadn’t yet begun.
  If someone had glanced in Tuttle’s cab they would have seen a fortyish man, 
  dark hair thinning, face shadowed with a day’s worth of stubble, ten or fi fteen 
  kilos overweight, dressed in a long-sleeved red fl annel shirt unbuttoned over a 
  white T-shirt. He drummed his fi ngers in time with the music as he drove. There 
  were naked-woman mud fl aps on his tires.
  No one would have given him a second look.
  But if someone had taken his pulse they would’ve found that it never climbed 
  higher than a cool fi fty-eight beats per minute. Which was why the man whose 
  name wasn’t Tuttle had been given this assignment.
  Because he was one cold son of a bitch.
  Ice.
  He moved with downtown traffi  c like the trucker he was supposed to be, 
  passing the ComStar compound on his right, with its Republic troops and a 
  Wolfhound standing sentry. He drove under the blue-and-green striped bunting 
  put up to celebrate the day Procyon was liberated from Alisendar Gyrn. The 
  Wantu Tower blocked out the horizon, its face cut into bizarre interlocking curls 
  of purple-tinted glass.
  “Talwar will never believe it was an accident,” DeSolvo whispered savagely. “If 
  we’re not very careful, if we don’t fi x this, we’re going to have Republic interference 
  in ComStar business.”
  Patricia shook her head. “Why does this keep happening?”
  DeSolvo puff ed air out of his mouth and shook his head. “We’re getting signal 
  modulations we can’t correct. Data packets are jumbled. Sometimes the body of 
  one message is appended to the header of another. Sometimes the message is 
  lost entirely. Or its meaning is twisted. Or—”
  “Yes, but why?”
  DeSolvo said nothing. Dark circles ringed his eyes. He’d taken on the look of a 
  hunted animal. 
  Suddenly Patricia understood. He has no idea what to do next.
  “Maybe we should say a little incantation,” suggested Patricia.
  “That’s not funny,” DeSolvo snarled.
  “Well, what do you want me to do about it?” She lowered her voice. “I can’t help 
  you on the technical side. You know this uniform is just for show.”
  He took hold of her elbow and guided her three or four meters further away 
  from the nearest tech. “You have resources I do not, Adept Harwell. And I cannot 
  help but wonder if this matter is,” his voice dropped to a barely audible hiss, 
  “sabotage.”
  The word sent a chill wriggling down Patricia’s spine. Sabotage. Now there was 
  an ugly thought. Yes, sabotage might bring down an HPG. If would have to be an 
  inside job, but yes—
  it might be done. She looked around the control room, studying the techs 
  working around them.
  Wondering.
  Who would do such a thing? All that message traffi  c. All that revenue. Blake’s 
  breath, customers would never trust them again. Even if the HPG were restored in 
  a few days, the losses would be incalculable.
  Not the least of which might be her career. Because of her job title, her true job 
  title, there was a way to look at this that implied it was her fault.
  Suddenly toying with DeSolvo didn’t seem nearly so fun. “All right,” she said 
  softly. “I’ll see what I can do.”
  ARTIST: JOHN HUDGENS
  PUBLICATION: TECHNOLOGY OF DESTRUCTION
  YEAR: 2004
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  244
  
  M E C H W A R R I O R :  D A R K  A G E
  Talwar gave her a look that suggested that he was not at all amused.
  “I think what my colleague means to say,” said DeSolvo, “is that it makes no 
  sense to arrest someone for a technical diffi  culty.”
  “At least not on sovereign ComStar territory,” intoned Patricia. “What you do in 
  the Republic is up to you.”
  “I have Republic troops stationed outside,” Talwar growled.
  “To protect the station,” squeaked DeSolvo.
  Patricia folded her arms. The look on her face wasn’t quite a dare. 
  It was true her security team couldn’t stand up to BattleMechs, but 
  should Talwar actually try to take the station hall-by-hall, he’d fi nd 
  himself fi ghting an entirely diff erent sort of battle. But then, a battle 
  like that would reveal secrets better kept. Patricia looked away.
  Talwar turned to DeSolvo. “You can’t possibly expect me to believe 
  that your technical diffi  culties are only impacting highly-sensitive 
  messages concerning Republic security.”
  The precentor fi dgeted for a moment, and then 
  he said. “The problem is not as sporadic as, ah, we 
  may have suggested.”
  “What are you saying exactly, Precentor 
  DeSolvo.”
  The precentor swallowed. “Seventy-two hours 
  ago 
  we 
  started 
  seeing 
  intermittent 
  problems with data transmissions. It’s 
  grown worse over the last few days. 
  Right now it’s impacting roughly 
  two percent of our message 
  traffi  c.”
  “Two percent of—” began the 
  knight. He shook his head. “Wait. 
  What you’re really saying is that 
  you don’t have a handle on what 
  this is.” Talwar looked from DeSolvo to 
  Patricia. “And you’re worried it might be 
  intentional. That’s why you’re here, Adept 
  Harwell.”
  She nodded.
  DeSolvo drew a deep breath. “We’ve received 
  isolated reports of bombs going off  at HPG stations 
  across the Inner Sphere. Terrorist attacks. Just a 
  handful, but—”
  “My God,” whispered Talwar. His gaze pierced 
  Patricia. “If this is really some kind of protest 
  against ComStar, some kind of political 
  statement—” He shook his head. “Can you 
  stop it?”
  “I’m doing the best I can, Sir Talwar,” she said. 
  “But surely you know that our security apparatus 
  is limited. ComStar disbanded the Com Guards 
  after the Jihad.” She tapped the rank emblem on her collar with the little “A” by 
  it. “I’m just a humble comtech. Most of my security experience has to do with 
  encryption—not counterintelligence.”
  Talwar watched her for a long moment.
  She sat back on the sofa, her arm stretched across its back, watching him watch 
  her, almost managing to look bored.
  The silence stretched.
  “Tell him what you’ve learned, Adept,” said DeSolvo.
  Patricia sighed. “It’s not any of our people. I cross-referenced garbled messages 
  with watch rotations. There’s no one person who was on duty when all the 
  messages came in. Hell, there’s no six people on duty when all the messages came 
  in. If it’s an inside job it’s a doozie.”
  “Maybe someone planted a scrambler,” said Talwar. “Or removed a key piece of 
  equipment.”
  DeSolvo frowned. “I don’t think so. We’ve dumped our software and rebooted. 
  Checked every piece of equipment. Scanned for EM fi elds.”
  “Besides,” said Patricia, “the problem comes and goes. That suggests someone 
  is fl ipping the eff ect on and off  with some kind of switch.”
  He saw a shiny black limousine pass him in the oncoming lanes, a red-and-
  yellow pennant decorated with a white starburst fl ying over the left headlight. 
  Was that Sir Talwar? For a moment Tuttle’s pulse fl uttered upward. The sudden 
  appearance of a knight-errant was an uncomfortable coincidence.
  And Tuttle didn’t like coincidences.
  He shook his head. The show must go on.
  Up ahead, at the intersection of Halbiero and Fourteenth, the light was green. 
  Tuttle popped the clutch and the truck stalled. At fi rst cars lined up 
  behind him. Then they started to shift over into the right-hand 
  lane, passing him by.
  He counted off  nine seconds, watching the light burn green. 
  On the nine-count he restarted his rig and lumbered forward. 
  The light turned yellow.
  Tuttle hit the gas, racing to beat the red.
  Ahead of him a dark green SUV was gliding 
  to the stop in his lane. Tuttle ignored it like 
  it wasn’t even there. He watched the needle 
  sweep right as the truck gathered speed. The 
  gas pedal was fl at on the fl oor.
  The SUV was idling in front of a light that had 
  made itself cherry red.
  Velocity vectors spiraled together in a 
  destructive dance. When physics told 
  Tuttle that the disaster couldn’t be 
  undone, he took his foot off  the 
  gas and slammed on the brakes. 
  His tires screeched in protest as he 
  laid a good centimeter of rubber 
  across reinforced ferrocrete. The 
  smell of burning tires fi lled his cab.
  And then he spun the wheel hard over 
  like he was trying to avoid the collision.
  During the whole evolution his pulse never 
  pushed over sixty beats per minute.
  Not even when the rig jack-knifed.
  ▲▼▲
  It was Patricia’s opinion that Jordan DeSolvo 
  had made his offi  ce a refuge, a place of comfort 
  and warmth. His desk was sleek and black, hand-
  carved from mahogany and topped with a thin 
  layer of smartglass that could call forth an infi nite 
  variety of holographic displays. But it was the only 
  overtly technological item in the room. 
  Behind the desk, DeSolvo reclined in a beautiful 
  high-backed chair upholstered in burgundy leather. 
  Behind him a custom-built blond oak bookshelf curled 
  along the gentle arc of the wall. The shelf framed actual books, mostly technical 
  manuals and treatises on theoretical physics—two of them fi rst editions written 
  by Jerome Blake himself. The carpet was a gentle sea-green, the wallpaper a 
  matching forest green. A fi re crackled merrily in the fi replace to the left of the 
  sofa where Patricia sat. 
  The sofa and the desk formed a triangle with a long wall of ferroglass. That wall 
  revealed the skyline of Guilded Halls, the sky a cold, cloudless blue. Somehow 
  looking out at the city calmed DeSolvo. 
  In an instant Knight-Errant Ravi Talwar shattered that calm. He snapped a data 
  crystal down on the desk’s smartglass surface with a sharp click. “Tell me why I 
  shouldn’t arrest you right now.”
  On fi rst glance, nothing about Talwar made him seem particularly imposing. 
  His skin was a deep brown, and his black hair was cut military short. At one meter 
  seventy-fi ve he was on the short side of average and, honestly, he needed to lose 
  a few kilos. His face was wide and plain, his eyes a dull brown.
  But when he spoke, his voice carried a quiet authority. A dangerous authority.
  Patricia fl ashed him a cold smile. “Well, for one thing this station is sovereign 
  ComStar territory.”
  Patricia folded her arms. The loo
  It was true her security team could
  should Talwar actually try to take 
  himself fi ghting an entirely diff eren
  like that would reveal secrets better 
  Talwar turned to DeSolvo. “You ca
  that your technical diffi  culties are 
  messages concern
  The precentor 
  he said. “The prob
  may have sugges
  “What are yo
  DeSolvo.”
  The precentor s
  ago 
  we 
  problem
  gro
  R
  W
  you
  this is.”
  Patricia. 
  intentio
  Harwell.”
  She nodded.
  DeSolvo drew a 
  isolated reports of 
  across the Inner S
  handful, but—”
  “My God,” w
  Patricia. “If th
  against Com
  statement—
  stop it?”
  “I’m doing 
  “But surely you 
  ruck stalled. At fi rst cars lined up 
  shift over into the right-hand 
  tching the light burn green. 
  rig and lumbered forward. 
  the red.
  was gliding
  ored it like 
  the needle 
  speed. The 
  ght that had
  r in a
  ld 
  d over 
  sion.
  pulse never 
  e.
  d.
  dan DeSolvo 
  ace of comfort
  nd black, hand-
  ped with a thin 
  forth an infi nite 
  t it was the only 
  oom. 
  ned in a beautiful 
  burgundy leather. 
  ARTIST: TODD LUBSEN
  PUBLICATION: TECHNOLOGY OF DESTRUCTION
  YEAR: 2004
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  245
  
  M E C H W A R R I O R :  D A R K  A G E
  ▲▼▲
  Patricia was off  the couch in a second and at the 
  window. Talwar stood right beside her. “Blake’s blood,” 
  she whispered.
  Windows on the building across the street were 
  shattered and the grass was charred black. Anything 
  that could burn was burning. The explosion’s shock 
  wave had knocked down civilians.
  But that wasn’t the worst of it.
  “We’re under attack,” said Talwar tightly, putting a 
  comm to his ear.
  He was right.
  Patricia picked out battlesuit infantry taking 
  cover behind a red IndustrialMech that had been 
  smashed into scrap. A ConstructionMech was 
  trading fi re with the Republic infantry, bright lines 
  of laser light slicing into the ContructionMech’s blue-
  painted armor only to be answered by punishing fi re from 
  the machine’s massive autocannon. The ConstructionMech 
  was backed by its own infantry.
  As she watched, a Wolfhound in Republic urban camoufl age 
  charged forward to help the battlesuit infantry. As it turned 
  to face the ConstructionMech a blue JES II Strategic Missile 
  Carrier ripped into the BattleMech with a fl urry of missiles. 
  For an instant the Wolfhound was limned by a hard 
  yellow glare.
  Then it went down. The thirty-fi ve-ton machine’s 
  collapse rattled the earth with enough force that 
  Patricia felt it twelve stories up.
  There was a kind of calculus to war, a math every 
  bit as rigorous and challenging as the equations that 
  governed interstellar communications. And this was a 
  branch of mathematics Patricia could do in her head.
  “Your guys are losing,” Patricia snapped.
  Hard lines of fury were written into the soft lines of 
  Talwar’s face. “There was some kind accident.” He shook 
  his head. “Obviously staged. Local law enforcement 
  pulled my people to—”
  “Yeah, save it for your report,” snapped 
  Patricia. “We’re not Republic soldiers, but 
  I do have a security team. 
  We’re not going to give 
  up this facility without 
  a fi ght.” She met the 
  knight’s gaze. “If I put a 
  weapon in your hand, will 
  you help?”
  She saw the answer in his 
  eyes before he even spoke. 
  “Lead the way.”
  Patricia glanced back at DeSolvo, who fl ashed her 
  a hard stare.
  He knew exactly what he was worried about. She 
  was worried about it, too. 
  But they couldn’t let the HPG fall. She raised her 
  eyebrows in a kind of shrug that Talwar didn’t see. 
  DeSolvo hesitated and then gave her a shallow 
  nod. And that was that. She shouldered her 
  way out the door.
  ▲▼▲
  Patricia fl ew down the stairs, Talwar a step behind 
  her. She jumped the last fi ve, six steps and took the 
  “You sure seem to know a lot about a problem you can’t 
  identify,” snapped Talwar.
  “We’re working hard,” said DeSolvo, turning red. “But 
  so far the problem has evaded all analysis.”
  “It almost seems supernatural,” mused Patricia.
  DeSolvo shot her a sharp look, then turned to look 
  at the knight. “I’m sure we’ll get it in the next few 
  days.”
  “You’d better,” snapped Talwar, “because—”
  Whatever the knight was going to say was cut off  
  by a distant bass rumble and a fountain of orange 
  fl ame rising into the sparkling blue sky.
  ▲▼▲
  Protector Third Class Gary Johnson was the 
  man on the scene when the LNG carrier went over. 
  And he counted himself damned lucky. They had been 
  able to get the driver out. His airbag had gone off , and so 
  he’d come through the accident with little more than cuts and 
  burns. The people he’d hit hadn’t fared quite so well, but at least 
  none of them had died. They’d gotten all of them out too.
  The biggest break was the truck. It had splashed liquid 
  methane all over the road as the stainless steel tank slid 
  ten meters across ragged ferrocrete. The steel kicked up 
  a shower of golden sparks, but somehow the puddles of 
  methane didn’t ignite.
  God, Himself, must’ve been looking out for them on that 
  one.
  Johnson immediately called out a general emergency. 
  As senior offi  cer on-scene, he’d commandeered the 
  Republic troops guarding the HPG to secure the area 
  and re-route traffi  c. Ten minutes later, the precinct captain 
  confi rmed his judgment, closing Halbiero in a fi fteen block 
  radius and sending him twenty patrol cars and fi ve fi re 
  engines. Johnson started evacuating the people 
  in the buildings on either side of the street.
  All smart, all by-the-book, all the right 
  thing to do.
  That’s what Gary Johnson thought—
  until he felt the rumble vibrate up into 
  his legs from the ground. He had served 
  in Procyon’s militia before becoming a 
  peace offi  cer and so he knew that feeling, 
  that sound, as soon as he heard it.
  Suddenly his mouth tasted dry.
  A ConstructionMech modifi ed for battle stepped 
  into the intersection where Fourteenth crossed Halbiero. It 
  was painted an unlikely royal blue and black diesel belched 
  from the exhaust pipe that rose up behind the cockpit like a 
  chimney.
  It pivoted, pointing the autocannon in its right arm at the 
  downed tanker trunk.
  Johnson jerked the comm up to his lips. “Command 
  Post, Halbiero. Emergency, emergency. Need immediate 
  assistance. Under attack from—”
  His words were cut off  by the brutal rattle of the 
  ’Mech’s weapon. For a fraction of a second, heavy-
  caliber shells gouged chunks out of ferrocrete, 
  punched holes in the shell of the tanker, smashed 
  steel and shattered glass. For a fraction of a 
  second.
  That’s all it took.
  Until the natural gas the truck had been 
  carrying caught and the whole street went up like 
  Armageddon.
  Patric
  windo
  she w
  Wi
  shatt
  tha
  wa
  co
  of lase
  painted arm
  the machin
  was backed
  As she w
  charged fo
  to face th
  Carrier 
  For 
  ye
  Th
  you can’t
  But 
  ok 
  een 
  ff, and so 
  than cuts and 
  l, but at least 
  ut too.
  hed liquid
  tank slid 
  icked up 
  uddles of 
  m on that 
  gency. 
  the
  area
  governed interstellar commu
  branch of mathematics Patric
  “Your guys are losing,” Patr
  Hard lines of fury were wr
  Talwar’s face. “There was som
  his head. “Obviously stage
  pulled my people to—”
  “Yeah, save it fo
  Patricia. “We’re n
  I d
  W
  u
  you
  S
  eye
  “Le
  Patricia glanced back at D
  a hard stare.
  He knew exactly what he
  y
  was worried about it, too.
  But they couldn’t let the 
  eyebrows in a kind of shru
  DeSolvo hesitated an
  nod. And that was
  way out the door.
  Patricia fl ew down the s
  n a fi fteen block 
  s and fi ve fi re 
  ople 
  .
  ht 
  le stepped 
  ssed Halbiero. It 
  ck diesel belched 
  nd the cockpit like a 
  its right arm at the 
  ps. “Command 
  d immediate
  attle of the
  nd, heavy-
  ferrocrete, 
   smashed
  on of a
  d been 
  up like 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  246
  
  M E C H W A R R I O R :  D A R K  A G E
  slowly backed down the street and around a corner. The Demon followed. 
  “Those aren’t my men,” said Talwar.
  Patricia glanced right and saw a squad of infantry in Raiden battlesuits taking 
  cover behind the downed IndustrialMech. They were popping out from behind 
  cover just often enough to pop the ConstructionMech’s cockpit with laser fi re.
  They weren’t Talwar’s infantry. Talwar’s infantry was all dead.
  “Who cares,” said Patricia, “as long as they’re shooting the right way.”
  But Talwar didn’t turn away. He couldn’t fail to notice that the Raiden armor was 
  painted white. Bone white.
  That was going to be trouble. 
  She inched her mirror over the barrier and turned it. It took her fi fteen seconds 
  to size up the situation. Their biggest advantage was time. No doubt Republic 
  reinforcements were racing to their aid. She and Talwar didn’t have to win—they 
  just had to win for a little while. 
  Their biggest disadvantage was numbers.
  The Demon and Jessie were paired in a diffi  cult duel. The Jessie was slow but 
  heavily armed, the Demon quick but lightly armed. The Jessie would fall back 
  and try to hit from distance with its LRMs. The Demon would try to dart in and 
  initiate a secondary explosion with its lasers. A tie—but then ties went to the 
  defenders.
  The Raidens had the ConstructionMech tied down. The armor around the 
  ’Mech’s cockpit was mostly slag—which meant it couldn’t charge forward and 
  clean out the nest of Raidens with its autocannon, not without risking a kill shot 
  to the head. Another tie.
  The problem was the left side of the board.
  Enemy battlesuits were moving forward unchecked by anyone. Two, maybe 
  three of them. Working their way from cover to cover, the leading soldier crouching 
  behind an overturned sedan. He’d probably lost the use of his laser—but Patricia 
  had seen a nasty looking slug-thrower on his hip.
  He stepped from out behind the silver sedan, and Patricia swung her laser rifl e 
  up, pulled into her trigger. Green fi re sparked off  the laser built into the suit’s right 
  arm. There was a little actinic pop and a whiff  of gray smoke. The soldier ducked 
  back behind the sedan.
  landing in a crouch, before regaining her fl eet and plunging down the next fl ight. 
  “Security alert, security alert,” she shouted into her comm. “Provide from the ready 
  locker. Protocol Red and Black.”
  The whoop of a panicked alarm fi lled the building, echoing off  the concrete of 
  the stairwell.
  Patricia ran.
  ▲▼▲
  Patricia ducked left out of the front door and the cold bit into her fl esh. She’d 
  thrown a black composite vest over her coveralls, but otherwise she wasn’t 
  wearing anything against the winter chill.
  Then a beam of ruby light fl ashed past a meter ahead of her, the shriek of it 
  shattering the air.
  And suddenly she didn’t give a damn about the cold. 
  She sprinted, jumped, and rolled coming up behind a waist-high ferrocrete 
  barrier designed to keep the building from being rammed by a truck packed with 
  high-explosives. 
  She crouched behind the barrier, fi shing a small mirror on a metal handle 
  out of her vest. The air throbbed with violence. The impossible roar of the 
  ConstructionMech’s autocannon, the rippling explosion of missiles, the high-
  pitched cry of lasers.
  The softer cries of dying men.
  Talwar rolled in next to her. He lay prone, breathing hard. “Hey,” he said. “You’re 
  cool under fi re.”
  “Thanks,” she said.
  “Learn that in encryption school?”
  Patricia pursed her lips, but said nothing.
  Beyond the barrier, a wheeled vehicle raced by. Patricia risked a look and fl ashed 
  on a Demon medium tank. The tank’s gunners sprayed suppressing minigun fi re 
  at the attacker’s infantry, but it saved its paired Blazefi re Longshot medium lasers 
  for the Jessie. Emerald beams stabbed at the missile carrier, missing close left.
  But the Jessie got the point. It fi red a salvo of missiles at the Demon and then 
  ARTIST: VIC BONILLA & TOME PETERS
  PUBLICATION: TECHNOLOGY OF DESTRUCTION
  YEAR: 2004
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  247
  
  M E C H W A R R I O R :  D A R K  A G E
  That was the fi rst and the last shot they were going to get for free. From here on out the enemy was 
  going to be looking for them behind the barrier.
  Patricia pointed left, held up three fi ngers. 
  Talwar nodded. He might be pompous, but he grasped the tactical situation at once. Stop the 
  enemy infantry and they won. Let them advance and they lost.
  The knight touched his chest and signaled left.
  Patricia swallowed. Talwar was proposing a risky strategy. He’d duck left, keeping down, but 
  risking enemy fi re. Meanwhile, she had to hold off  all three soldiers all by herself. And they 
  had armor—she didn’t. But if it worked, the knight would circle around and hit them in 
  the back. 
  Besides it was their only shot.
  Patricia nodded.
  Just like that Talwar was gone. Well, he certainly wasn’t a man to wait 
  around when something needed doing. Patricia covered his move by 
  popping over the barrier and fi ring. She caught one of the enemy 
  battlesuits on the shoulder, but then ruby fi re sliced past her so close 
  that she felt the heat baking her left side.
  She pivoted and snapped a shot in the general direction of the laser 
  and then dove for cover, hoping that her shot bought her two, three seconds. 
  She army-crawled to the end of the barrier and peeked out from behind it, still on her stomach. 
  One of the enemy soldiers was racing forward.
  She fi red, slicing into his knee. The shot must’ve locked up the joint, because the suit toppled forward. 
  Patricia took one more shot at the soldier’s torso and then she was back behind the barrier and moving left.
  Just as a small missile smashed into the ferrocrete fi ve meters from where she’d been. There was a 
  horrifi c explosion, close enough for the bass roar to make her ears ring and then a thousand blades 
  were slicing into her fl esh.
  She looked down. Shards of broken ferrocrete had cut her, none very big, but all painful. She popped 
  up over the barrier and fi red again, chasing the guy sheltering behind the silver sedan away but not 
  before he fi red his slug thrower at her in semi-automatic.
  m here on out the enemy was 
  l situation at once. Stop the 
  eft, keeping down, but
  b h
  lf A d th
  by herself. And they 
  d and hit them in
  nds.
  d it, still on her stomach. 
  ecause the suit toppled forward.
  hind the barrier and moving left.
  where she’d been. There was a
  g and then a thousand blades
  big, but all painful. She popped
  d the silver sedan away but not 
  ARTIST: CHARLES OINES
  PUBLICATION: TECHNOLOGY OF DESTRUCTION
  YEAR: 2004
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  248
  
  M E C H W A R R I O R :  D A R K  A G E
  “Maybe,” said Patricia thoughtfully.
  Talwar glanced down at the dead terrorist.
  Patricia swept the slug thrower up and jammed 
  it against the knight’s skull. Pulled the trigger. The 
  weapon roared and Talwar jerked. Then his body 
  toppled to the ground.
  Patricia carefully knelt down and replaced the weapon in 
  the dead terrorist’s hand.
  “But then again, maybe not.”
  ▲▼▲
  After cleaning up, she stood with 
  DeSolvo in the HPG control room. The 
  elegant room hummed with power as 
  techs worked to bring the HPG back to 
  life. Techs called out numbers, calibrated 
  sensors, rerouted power.
  “Other than cutting power, the terrorists didn’t 
  manage to do any damage,” said DeSolvo. “Once 
  we reboot, we should restore communications.” He looked 
  away. “You did an excellent job, Adept.”
  “Not just me,” she said softly. “Ravi Talwar deserves some 
  of the credit.”
  “And did our knight—” DeSolvo paused, carefully 
  choosing his words. “Did he fi nally see things our 
  way?”
  “We never got a chance to talk about it,” 
  said Patricia coolly. “Sadly, he was killed in the 
  terrorist attack.”
  The color drained out of DeSolvo’s face, but he 
  nodded and said nothing.
  “Ready for transmission,” called out one of the techs. 
  “Proceed,” said DeSolvo. 
  “Waiting for video test transmission,” called out a technician.
  DeSolvo pointed at a screen and he and Patricia stepped over to the console. 
  For a moment there was only black and then the screen blinked—and there was 
  nothing but gray static.
  “What’s going on?” DeSolvo snapped.
  One of the comtechs leaned forward and swallowed. Sweat beaded on his 
  forehead. “I, I don’t know, sir. It l-looks like the core has burned out.”
  DeSolvo wheeled around, his face drained of color except for two high spots of 
  color on his cheeks, his mouth hanging open. 
  It occurred to Patricia that the coming of a great storm was often heralded by 
  no more than the merest stirring of an uneasy wind. She reached out and touched 
  the crackle and pop of static on the screen.
  And felt the chill breeze of destruction waking.
  A shot hit her in the chest and knocked her down.
  Where the hell was Talwar?
  She sat down behind the barrier, breathing hard. Wouldn’t 
  be able to do this much longer.
  Where. Was. Talwar?
  And then she heard the rapid-fi re shriek of a laser.
  Followed by silence.
  ▲▼▲
  The ConstructionMech was stalking down Halbiero 
  chased by laser fi re from the Raidens. A massive 
  explosion somewhere in the distance signaled 
  that the Jessie had met an untimely end.
  A gray haze clouded the road, fed from 
  a dozen fi res and the fog of expended 
  ordnance. It smelled bitter—and sweet. 
  Patricia tasted grit on her tongue. Her 
  chest ached where she’d been shot and 
  she was bleeding from a score of cuts.
  She owed Talwar her life.
  She stood alone with the knight looking 
  down at the dead terrorist behind the silver 
  sedan. 
  “We make a pretty good team,” said Talwar.
  “I’m glad you were there,” she admitted.
  “You’re not new to combat.”
  Patricia said nothing.
  “A security chief trained in commando tactics,” said 
  Talwar softly. “The mysterious appearance of Raiden 
  battle armor.” He shook his head. “ComStar has 
  reconstituted the Com Guards.”
  “We have to protect our holdings,” said Patricia softly.
  “Right,” said Talwar. “But after Word of Blake used their 
  version of the Com Guards to launch the Jihad you can’t aff ord to let anyone know. 
  Half the worlds in the Inner Sphere would be terrifi ed of a resurgent ComStar 
  military.”
  “So what are you going to do?” she asked.
  Talwar crossed his arms over his chest, furrowed his brow, buried his chin in his 
  chest. “It’s not really up to me. Or you. I think it’s a matter for the Primus to discuss 
  with the Exarch.”
  Patricia nodded. “Of course. We have a bigger issue to worry about anyway. Like 
  who’s trying to disrupt interstellar communications.” She knelt and picked up the 
  dead man’s slug thrower. She studied it carefully and then handed it butt-fi rst to 
  Talwar. “I don’t see any markings. Do you?”
  He looked at it for a minute and shook his head. “No.” He handed it back.
  Patricia looked down. “Look. I just wanted to say. Whatever this is, whatever 
  this all is, you saved my life today.” She looked over at him. “I’ll always owe you 
  for that.”
  He met her gaze. “I was just doing my job,” he said softly. “But maybe this 
  moment can serve as a bridge of understanding between our two governments.”
  And felt the chill breeze of destruction w
   waking.
  o say. Whatever this is, whatever
  over at him. “I’ll always owe you
  ,” he said softly. “But maybe this
  g between our two governments.”
  n 
  “Maybe,” sa
  Talwar gl
  Patricia s
  it against t
  weapon roa
  toppled to the 
  Patricia carefully 
  the dead terrorist’s h
  “But then again, m
  D
  se
  “Othe
  manage t
  we reboot, we shou
  away. “You did an ex
  “Not just me,” she
  of the credit.”
  “And did our 
  choosing his 
  way?”
  “We 
  said Pat
  terrorist a
  The colo
  nodded and sa
  er down.
  ng hard. Wouldn’t 
  of a laser.
  n Halbiero 
  massive 
  naled 
  m 
  ver
  ar.
  ctics,” said
  of Raiden 
  Star has 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  249
  
   
  JUPITER BATTLEMECH
  FORESTRYMECH
  LEGIONNAIRE BATTLEMECH
  KAGE BATTLEARMOR
  HATCHETMAN BATTLEMECH
  FENRIR BATTLEARMOR
  RYOKEN MK II BATTLEMECH
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  250
  
   
  Republic of the Sphere
  Dragon’s Fury
  Banson’s Raiders
  Steel Wolves
  Swordsworn
  Spirit Cats
  Highlanders
  FACTIONS OF THE
  DARK AGE
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  251
  
   
  ARTIST: VIC BONILLA
  ARTIST: VIC BONILLA
  ARTISTS: VIC BONILLA & PAUL WESBERRY
  ARTIST: CHARLES OINES
  ARTIST: CHARLES OINES
  ART
  ARTIST
  ISTS: VIC
  VIC BO
  BONIL
  NILLA
  LA & P
  & PAUL
  AUL WE
  WESBE
  SBERRY
  RRY
  ART
  ARTIST
  IST V
  : VICIC BON
  BONILL
  ILLA
  ART
  ARTIST
  IST V
  : VICIC BON
  BONILL
  ILLA
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  252
  
   
  ARTIST: VIC BONILLA
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  253
  
  BATTLETECH: THE CRESCENT HAWKS REVENGE
  1989, Developer: Westwood 
  Associates
  Publisher: Infocom
  Platform: MS-DOS
  The Crescent Hawks Revenge was 
  Westwood Associates’ follow-up title 
  to Crescent Hawks Inception.  Instead of 
  focusing on an RPG title, Revenge dealt 
  with ’Mech combat and was one of the 
  fi rst implementations of BattleTech rules 
  in a game.  The player could control 
  up to three lances of ’Mechs, call in air 
  support and artillery, and deal with 
  tanks and infantry.
  Taking place during the War of 
  3039, and then leap-frogging into the 
  Clan Invasion, this title recognized the 
  expanding digital BattleTech universe 
  with nods to Activision’s MechWarrior as well. Revenge featured the largest 
  contingent of playable ’Mechs in any game, covering the majority of Technical 
  Readout: 3050. Heat was a major issue in this game, and pilots left in the “overburn” 
  mode would end up shut down on the battlefi eld.
  Completion of the game unlocked a scenario editor that let the player choose 
  his own forces and the enemy forces on any of the game’s single-player maps.
  Revenge has an important place in game history as developer Westwood 
  Associates began to move away from turn based games.  Revenge is generally 
  recognized as the fi rst Real Time Strategy game; Westwood would continue 
  the combat concepts begun here and expand them in Dune II, and then reach 
  blockbuster appeal with Command & Conquer. Revenge also featured a persistent 
  game world, where mission outcomes aff ected what ’Mechs and pilots were 
  available for future missions.
  BattleMechs would have to wait almost ten years before they reappeared in a 
  strategy/war game of this nature.
  BATTLETECH CENTER: SYSTEM 1
  1990, Developer: 
  Environmental System 
  Projects/Incredible 
  Technologies
  Platform: LBE Center
  First appearing at North 
  Pier in Chicago, Illinois, the 
  BattleTech Center was the fi rst multiplayer, networked BattleMech simulation. The 
  BattleTech Center was the pioneering concept in Location Based Entertainment 
  by BattleTech founders Jordan Wiseman and Ross Babcock. Each cockpit featured 
  more than 104 controls that actually had an impact on the simulation. Weapons 
  grouping, night vision, IFF toggles, independent torso control, and more were 
  featured in these six-player networked games.  For the fi rst time, the enemy was 
  man; the entire concept of the BattleTech Center was that the Fourth Succession 
  War raged on and team battles would settle the score. The game featured a basic 
  death match and team death match style.
  The custom cockpits ran under an interesting amalgamation of hardware. 
  Featuring bit-mapped sprites, Clan ’Mechs were fi rst introduced at the BattleTech
  Center. The distinctive outline of the Mad Cat was used in signage, and the Vulture, 
  Loki and Thor were the other featured chassis in the game. Each ’Mech had several 
  diff erent variants to match pilot styles.  While the fi ction of the Center was rooted 
  in 3025, the game art was fi rmly planted in 3050. Players would end a game and 
  receive a printed score sheet that detailed the highlights of the battle.
  With the introduction of the BattleTech Center, the arms race of more and 
  more impressive ’Mech simulations began. Publisher Activision would look at the 
  success of MechWarrior and the potential of the BattleTech Center, and start the 
  next major evolution of  ’Mech combat.
  Few properties lend themselves better to electronic entertainment than the 
  concept of piloting a giant walking ’Mech in combat. Since 1988, the BattleTech 
  license has had a grand tradition in electronic gaming history. Worked on by 
  hundreds of talented designers, programmers and artists, and enjoyed by millions 
  of gamers, BattleTech would push the boundaries of computer and video games 
  from 1988 up until the present. A literal “Who’s Who” of software companies 
  have been involved in a tale of software development that rivals the political 
  machinations of the Inner Sphere. 
  Jordan Weisman, creator of the universe and boardgame, was instrumental 
  in launching the BattleTech computer games. Directly involved in every version 
  before MechWarrior 4, he then moved on to an advisory role, as well as directly 
  overseeing the Virtual World Entertainment work.
  BATTLETECH: THE CRESCENT HAWKS INCEPTION
  1988, Publisher: Infocom
  Developer: Westwood Associates
  Platform: MS-DOS
  The fi rst BattleTech PC game, The Crescent 
  Hawks Inception followed the exploits of 
  18-year-old Jason Youngblood and the 
  formation of the Crescent Hawks in the 
  Lyran Commonwealth. Fighting against 
  forces of the Draconis Combine, the fi rst 
  BattleTech game was an RPG that featured 
  an manga art style for character close-ups.
  In some ways, Inception is a nod to the 
  MechWarrior RPG, as many encounters can 
  happen to your pilot outside the safety of a ’Mech.
  BattleTech: The Crescent Hawks Inception is notable for being one of the fi rst 
  titles published by Infocom that was not a text adventure.  The computer could 
  resolve combat automatically, or the player could fi ght each round.  Developer 
  Westwood Associates stuck with a turn-based, RPG formula for the game, but the 
  foundation was being laid for greater things.
  MECHWARRIOR
  1989, Publisher: Activision
  Developer: Dynamix
  Platform: MS: DOS
  The 
  fi rst 
  BattleMech 
  simulator, 
  MechWarrior was a sensation when released 
  in 1989.  The fi rst title to feature a fi rst-person 
  perspective from the cockpit, MechWarrior 
  was a surprisingly fl exible game.  
  Playing the role of Gideon Vandenberg, 
  leader of the mercenary unit Blazing Aces, 
  MechWarrior let the player travel the 
  Inner Sphere and work for any of the fi ve 
  Great Houses.  The player could barter for 
  contracts, deal with salvage, and choose 
  whether or not to follow the main story 
  line.  The player was free to explore the 
  Inner Sphere, or follow clues and clear the name of his family, before the Fourth 
  Succession War began to rage.
  Using fl at shaded polygons and running on an improvement of the earlier 
  Dynamix “Arctic Fox” engine, MechWarrior featured eight classic ’Mech chassis: 
  Locust, Jenner, Phoenix Hawk, Shadow Hawk, Marauder, Warhammer, Rifl eman and 
  BattleMaster. The title provided solid game play, with some limited AI. Several 
  mission types were featured, and planning was necessary to deal with extended 
  deployments where ammo and replacement parts would be scarce. BattleMech 
  load-outs could not be changed, but weapon systems could be knocked out and 
  had to be replaced or repaired.  
  The next time ’Mechs appeared in a fi rst-person environment, they would be 
  in a very diff erent guise.
  COMPUTER GAMES
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  C O M P U T E R  G A M E S
  254
  
  similar to the SNES Mode 7, this was the next cockpit-based viewpoint seen on a 
  console system. Extreme closed its doors before the title was released, after which 
  Thorley joined Jordan Wiseman to found FASA Interactive and develop titles 
  based on FASA’s catalog of pen-and-paper original products.
  MULTI-PLAYER BATTLETECH EGA
  1994, Developer: Kesmai
  Platform: MS-DOS
  Using a heavily modifi ed version of the original MechWarrior engine, Kesmai 
  took MechWarriors online for the fi rst time via Genie. At this time, if players went 
  online, they were still using modems with blazing high speeds of 1200 or 2400 
  baud. 
  Kesmai’s version of BattleTech divided players up into the classic Houses and let 
  them battle it out for control of planets for the glory of their Houses. Games were 
  still primarily death match and team death match missions.  Kesmai’s version of 
  BattleTech would face a major challenge with the next Activision release for the 
  PC the following year.
  Multi-player BattleTech fans would form one of the fi rst dedicated online 
  gaming communities that would predict the online Quake Clans and the eventual 
  rise of MMORPG titles in the 21st century.
  MECHWARRIOR 2: 31ST CENTURY COMBAT
  1995, Developer/Publisher: Activision
  Platform: MS-DOS/Windows
  Activision raised the bar on ’Mech 
  combat 
  with 
  this 
  groundbreaking 
  game in 1995. Originally developed as 
  MechWarrior 2: The Clans and featuring 
  bit-mapped cockpit art with fl at shaded 
  polygon environments and ’Mechs similar 
  in style to LucasArts’ popular X-Wing and 
  TIE Fighter simulation series, MechWarrior 
  2: The Clans got as far as CES previews 
  using a full-up foot pedal and dual hand 
  control setup that began to rival what was 
  seen at Virtual World Centers.  Activision 
  decided 
  to 
  scrap 
  this 
  bit-mapped 
  approach and pushed with a new vision of 
  MechWarrior 2 that featured all fl at shaded 
  polygons. With the restructure of the game, the other four Invading Clans were 
  abandoned, and the game focused on Clan Wolf and Clan Jade Falcon. The 
  narrative also shifted from an open-ended game of the fi rst MechWarrior to a 
  rigid mission-based structure. It is the fi rst in a three-game license with FASA 
  that will introduce millions to the BattleTech universe.
  Clan Jade Falcon and Clan Wolf are locked in the Refusal War after the Clan 
  Invasion, and the game is played from both perspectives. The ’Mech complement 
  contains most of the Clan ’Mechs from Technical Readout: 3050. The friendly rivalry 
  between Activision and Virtual World was apparent in this title, as one warehouse 
  that a player discovers is fi lled with “VWE Cockpits.”
  MechWarrior 2 was the last MS-DOS title for BattleTech, and the fi rst using new 
  Windows 95 technology. The title was given a second Windows-based release. 
  It was also one of the fi rst 3-D games that started to make use of new Graphics 
  Accelerators.  Besides being a bona fi de hit title, MechWarrior 2 went on to become 
  one of the largest OEM pack in titles in history for demonstrating new Graphics 
  Cards. MechWarrior 2 allows for complete customization of a ’Mech load-out, and 
  when it fi nally went online with Net-Mech, tweaked player load-outs led to one-
  shot kill contests.
  Artists at Digital Domain initially did the pre-rendered CG opening and end 
  movies, but some fi nal rendering was actually provided by FASA’s own computers, 
  under the supervision of Jamie Marshall.
  During the 1994 Virtual World Cup in Las Vegas, Activision was a major sponsor 
  as Virtual World players from around the world competed. Activision showcased 
  MechWarrior 2 at the event. Many players forlornly looked at the opening movies 
  and dreamed of a day when game play could match that vision. They didn’t need 
  to wait too long.
  Tim Morten led the charge at Activision, involved with both incarnations of 
  MechWarrior 2, and continued with the series at Activision.
  MECHWARRIOR
  1992, Developer: Beam Software
  Publisher: Activision
  Platform: SNES
  BattleTech made its fi rst appearance 
  on a gaming console with the port of 
  MechWarrior to the Super Nintendo 
  Entertainment System. Using the same plot 
  from the PC version, console players get to 
  experience a similar system of bidding for 
  mercenary contracts as they attempt to clear their family name.  
  BattleMech selection included the Nexus, Fujin, Raijin, Crusader and Ragnarok. 
  Damage locations were simplifi ed to arms, legs, torso and head. The bit-mapped 
  sprites fought the player in the SNES’s mode 7 3-D environments. The ’Mechs 
  would be folded into the BattleTech canon with Technical Readout: 3058.
  BATTLETECH CENTER/VIRTUAL WORLD BATTLETECH SYSTEM 2/3
  1992, Developer: Virtual World Entertainment
  Platform: LBE
  Tim Disney and Charlie Fink joined with Weisman and Babcock to retool the 
  BattleTech Center into Virtual World. The LBE hardware underwent its fi rst major 
  overhaul, moving to a 68000-based, microprocessor-based system. The cockpits 
  still relied on an ArcNet network, and missions were served from Macintosh-based 
  Operations Consoles. The gaming experience was extended with the introduction 
  of 2-D Mission Reviews at the end of the game in addition to printed score sheets. 
  ’Mechs became fl at shaded polygons, and the system was upgraded to reliably 
  support eight-player games.  System 2/3 would have a reliable multi-player frame 
  rate of 18-20 fps.
  The Avatar and Sunder were introduced to the public in this software release. 
  The fi nal software release featured a version of Indirect Fire for missile systems—
  the only appearance to date of Indirect Fire in a BattleTech-based game.
  The System 2/3 version of BattleTech drove Virtual World to expand to more 
  than thirteen sites in six diff erent countries around the world. The type of multi-
  player gaming featured at these sites would blossom with Internet gaming later 
  in the decade.
  Virtual World BattleTech continued to off er groundbreaking software with the 
  later implementation of SiteLink that allowed cockpits from diff erent locations 
  to link up for multi-player games. Sites were linked with dedicated ISDN lines to 
  accommodate the bandwidth of the network traffi  c for lag-free games. SiteLink 
  was added to Virtual World in 1993, spearheaded by Greg Corson.
  BATTLETECH: A GAME OF ARMORED COMBAT
  1994, Developer: Extreme Entertainment
  Publisher: Sega
  Platform: Sega Genesis
  BattleTech returned to the consoles 
  in 1994. BattleTech: A Game of Armored 
  Combat was an action title that featured 
  the player piloting a Mad Cat from a 
  third-person 
  isometric 
  perspective. 
  Similar in style to the popular Strike 
  series from Electronic Arts, BattleTech: 
  A Game of Armored Combat featured a 
  push through the Inner Sphere as part 
  of the Invading Clans under the direction of Colonel Ward. Combat went from 
  Alshain, Satalice, Ridderkirk and Avon, against Elementals and ’Mechs—both 
  Clan and Inner Sphere—including the Marauder, Stormcrow, Thunderbolt, 
  Wasp, Wolverine and Uller.
  Several of the developers of BattleTech: A Game of Armored Combat would see 
  this as their entry into the BattleTech universe. Producers/game designers Denny 
  Thorley and David Luehmann would see it as their introduction to the battlefi eld 
  of the 31st century. They would be major players in the future of BattleTech as 
  electronic entertainment in the coming decade.
  BattleTech: A Game of Armored Combat was ported to the SNES under the title of 
  BattleTech: 3050 by Malibu Games, and published by Activision in 1994.
  Developed at the same time by Extreme was BattleTech: Gray Death Legion for 
  the Sega CD. Utilizing the Sega CD hardware for sprite scaling and a 3-D mode 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  C O M P U T E R  G A M E S
  255
  
  and 2/3 cockpits had two monitors surrounded by LED displays, the Tesla cockpit 
  featured a main display that used an Infi nity Optics system to provide more depth 
  to the image, and six more secondary and multi-function display monitors that 
  heightened the realism of the LBE experience.
  The Owens was fi rst introduced to the gaming public in this software release. 
  The Strider and Raptor were also designed, but were never implemented in the 
  cockpits. Their only true appearance came in the rendered pictures by VWE in 
  Technical Readout: 3058. Introduced for the fi rst time was the use of Clan ’Mech 
  names and Inner Sphere names for those Clan ’Mechs to diff erentiate ’Mech 
  variants. Tesla BattleTech was the fi rst game in which a player can pilot a Mad 
  Cat in one mission and a Timber Wolf in another mission with a diff erent weapon 
  load-out. While not accurate with regard to game fi ction, it proved to be a clean 
  solution to diff erentiate variant ’Mechs to the public.
  Development on the new system was not without its tribulations. VWE fi rst used 
  its Red Planet title to iron out the network bugs of this multi-player system, and 
  then attacked BattleTech. Design issues arose when the title drifted more toward 
  engineering than to raw game play. The concept of coolant fl ushes was added 
  in Tesla BattleTech, but game play was changed to a much slower pace. Where it 
  was possible to get six or more kills in a System 3 game, the initial release of Tesla 
  BattleTech found a player lucky to get two or three kills in a single mission. Despite 
  the amazing graphics and 3-D surround sound, Tesla BattleTech got saddled with 
  the moniker “ButtonTech” because of the amount of button pushing related to 
  managing a ’Mech rather than actually fi ghting. T.J. Wagner emerged from the 
  VWE staff  to lead a second release of the title that focused more on combat and 
  less on engineering. Wagner continued at the forefront of BattleTech games for 
  the next several generations.
  A daring new concept lay at the heart of Tesla BattleTech, however; the new 
  FASA Interactive CEO Denny Thorley had the idea that the games available at 
  Virtual World Centers should provide an experience like going to a movie theatre, 
  and available at the counter should be a version of the Pod game playable on the 
  PC. That title would become MechWarrior 3. 
  MULTI-PLAYER BATTLETECH: SOLARIS
  1997, Developer: Kesmai
  Platform: Windows
  On the PC side, Kesmai continued to refi ne their BattleTech title into BattleTech: 
  Solaris, which refi ned the online play mechanic they had developed to center on 
  the dueling arenas of Solaris VII. The pride of each House is on the line in these 
  battles, and a virtual gambling system was also introduced. MPBTS had to compete 
  against MechWarrior 2 online games, and the new generation of First Person 
  Shooters that started to storm the ever more reliable Internet game space.
  MECHCOMMANDER
  1998, Developer: FASA Interactive
  Publisher: Microprose
  Platform: Windows
  BattleTech returned to its strategy roots 
  with this Real Time Strategy game, which 
  was FASA Interactive’s launch title. Frank 
  Savage and Mitch Gitelman led a team that 
  attempted to translate the excitement of 
  the tabletop into real time. A point-and-
  click interface made it possible to issue 
  real-time commands to up to three lances. 
  Heat was removed from consideration, as 
  designers determined that a MechWarrior 
  would deal with heat, not a ’Mech 
  Commander. A considerable portion of 
  the game was dedicated to ‘Mech salvage and re-arming and redesigning 
  ’Mech load-outs. Pilots gained experience as they survived battles and 
  became better pilots and gunners. The opening cinematic became one of the 
  best of its era. The game featured pre-rendered sprites in an isometric view.  
  MechCommander changed the RTS genre and created a new genre called Real 
  Time Tactical (RTT).
  MechCommander covers the battle of Port Arthur between forces of the 
  Federated Commonwealth and Clan Smoke Jaguar.  Originally, the game was 
  intended to focus on the battle of Coventry, but publisher Microprose grew 
  MECHWARRIOR 2:
  GHOST BEARS LEGACY
  1995, Developer/Publisher: 
  Activision
  Platform: MS-DOS/Windows
  The fi rst MechWarrior expansion pack 
  features Clan Ghost Bear. Sixteen additional 
  missions were added to the MechWarrior 2
  lineup and Technical Readout: 3055 ’Mechs 
  began to be seen for the fi rst time.
  MECHWARRIOR 2: NETMECH
  1996, Developer/Publisher: 
  Activision
  Platform: Windows
  In 1996, the promised multi-player 
  expansion of MechWarrior 2 hit the shelves. 
  Using the Kali gaming service to begin 
  with, players could take MechWarrior 2 
  online and duel with friends and enemies. 
  No persistent game world was created, and 
  NetMech was later folded into the standard 
  release of MechWarrior 2.
  MECHWARRIOR 2: MERCENARIES
  1996, Developer/Publisher: 
  Activision
  Platform: Windows
  The last title in the Activision MechWarrior 
  series saw a return to some of the concepts 
  of the original title. Taking place in 3044 
  and leading up to the Clan Invasion, this 
  MechWarrior 2 sequel focuses on the Inner 
  Sphere pilot.  Pilots can once again barter 
  for missions as in the original MechWarrior, 
  but with a more limited mission structure.  
  Since the game featured an Inner Sphere 
  focus, heat was more of an issue in this title 
  than in the Clan-based titles.
  The friendly rivalry with VWE drew to 
  a close as Activision’s license expired. 
  MechWarrior 2 ended up being ported to 
  the new Sony Playstation and Sega Saturn 
  in the “Extreme Arcade Edition” in 1997, the 
  fi nal Activision title.  “Extreme Arcade Edition” was developed by Quantum Factory, 
  and features simplifi ed mission structures and power-ups that are available within 
  the mission.  Players are treated to the famous MechWarrior 2 intro movie for the 
  fi rst time in full screen, high resolution.
  With MechWarrior 2: Mercenaries in the hands of players, the race was on for the 
  next giant robot combat game, and the surprising contestants were none other 
  than Activision and Virtual World. Activision continued to use the MechWarrior 2 
  engine in its popular I-76 titles; 
  eventually, it became the core 
  of their Heavy Gear titles.
  TESLA BATTLETECH
  1996, Developer: Virtual 
  World 
  Entertainment/FASA 
  Interactive
  Platform: LBE
  The fourth generation of the 
  VWE LBE cockpit system shifted 
  development to a PC-based 
  cockpit. Running on Division 
  Ltd. graphic cards, the art in 
  Tesla BattleTech was stunning for 
  its time. Whereas the System 1 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  C O M P U T E R  G A M E S
  256
  
  The race came to a head at the E3 conference of 1997, where Microprose 
  showed FASA Interactive’s MechWarrior 3 behind closed doors. Producer Tim 
  Gerritson led the project that at this point had a demo of a Vulture that could scale 
  a mountain and destroy a bridge. The ’Mech graphics from the Tesla version were 
  intact, and environmental graphics were being developed. Weapons eff ects were 
  placeholders at this time. Microprose continued to push FASA Interactive for a 
  fi nished title, but FASA Interactive continued to have diffi  culties getting the 
  simulation to work with parameters under the Direct X renderer. 
  Shortly following the 1997 E3, internal development of MechWarrior 
  3 ceased at FASA Interactive, and Microprose turned to industry 
  newcomer Zipper Interactive and their robust 3-D engine from 
  Death Drome.  MechWarrior 3 became an interesting title, 
  blending the original FASA Interactive design with a slimmed-
  down Zipper Interactive design. Core FASA Interactive design 
  elements, including a movable targeting reticule, ’Mech art 
  taken from Tesla, and some of FASA Interactive’s pre-rendered 
  cut scenes, fi nished the game.  The game itself features part of 
  the Second Star League push during Operation Bird Dog and 
  the attack on Smoke Jaguar space. The concept of a Mobile 
  Field base is implemented and lets a player re-arm and 
  repair during a mission. BattleMechs are fully customizable, 
  but supplies are limited to salvaged and discovered parts.
  Many of the FASA Interactive MechWarrior 3 team were let 
  go; those that remained vowed not to repeat earlier mistakes. 
  They would get some much-needed payback in their next 
  title, MechWarrior 4. Adding ammunition to that battle were the 
  forces of industry giant, Microsoft.
  MECHCOMMANDER: DESPERATE MEASURES
  1999, Developer: FASA Interactive
  Publisher: Microprose
  Platform: Windows
  MechCommander proved enough 
  of a success to warrant an expansion 
  pack 
  titled 
  Desperate Measures. 
  The 
  expansion pack featured missions located 
  on the planet Cermak. This name was a nod 
  to the street on which the FASA and FASA 
  Interactive offi  ces were located.
  MECHWARRIOR 3: PIRATES’ MOON
  1999, Developer: Zipper Interactive
  Publisher: Microprose
  Platform: Windows
  Pirates’ Moon continued the MechWarrior 
  3 franchise into its fi rst expansion pack.  By 
  now, the expectations of additional maps 
  and ’Mech chassis were met. Developed 
  without a large amount of FASA Interactive 
  support, the expansion pack was light on 
  story and featured no new cinematics. 
  Zipper kept a connection to FASA Interactive, 
  however, and supplied the graphics engine 
  for the fi rst Crimson Skies title for the PC.
  FASA 
  Interactive 
  was 
  acquired 
  by 
  Microsoft, which had begun to expand its 
  internal gaming studios to support the 
  development of its new venture, the Xbox. 
  FASA Interactive and Virtual World parted ways at this point.  CEO Denny Thorley 
  did not join the move to Redmond, and stayed in Chicago to start Day 1 Studios. 
  FASA Interactive was re-branded FASA Studios at Microsoft.  In the purchase, 
  Microsoft gained the right to the BattleTech property.
  At Microsoft, David Leuhmann took over management of the BattleTech 
  properties, as two titles were fast-tracked.  MechWarrior 4 and MechCommander 2 
  started development in earnest.
  concerned about possible confusion between the use of the planet Coventry vs. 
  the British city of the same name.  The fi ction of the game changed as a result.
  As MechCommander came together, another BattleTech strategy game 
  quietly emerged at FASA Interactive. BattleTech co-creator Ross Babcock and 
  former Infocom staff er Joel Berez hatched the concept of Computer BattleTech. 
  A true turn-based war game, Computer BattleTech was envisioned as the direct 
  translation of BattleTech, Fourth Edition to the PC. Computer BattleTech had a hard 
  time competing within FASA Interactive against MechCommander and eventually 
  was shut down, marking the last work by Babcock on BattleTech. Microsoft 
  approved the release of the alpha build of Computer BattleTech to the general 
  public in August of 2007.
  MECHWARRIOR 3
  1999, Developer: FASA Interactive/
  Zipper Interactive
  Publisher: Microprose
  Platform: Windows
  Internally the race was on at FASA 
  Interactive to beat the Activision MechWarrior 
  2 team to market with the next giant robot 
  combat game. Tim Morten led the Activision 
  team on Heavy Gear, utilizing another 
  iteration of their MechWarrior 2 engine. At 
  FASA Interactive, Greg Corson led a team that 
  was porting the Tesla BattleTech engine using 
  the new Microsoft Direct X graphics renderer. 
  Activision had the advantage at the beginning, using an established engine, while 
  FASA Interactive struggled to get a handle on the evolving Microsoft architecture.
  a head
  ctive’s M
  ect that
  roy a bri
  ental gr
  is time. M
  ut FASA 
  o work w
  followin
  d at FA
  omer Zip
  h Drom
  nding th
  wn Zipp
  ements,
  aken fro
  cut scene
  the Seco
  the atta
  Field ba
  repair d
  but sup
  Many 
  o; those
  hey wou
  e, MechW
  ces of ind
  HCOMM
  9, Devel
  her: Mic
  : Windo
  ander p
  warrant 
  erate M
  ured m
  k. This n
  ch the F
  ere locat
  MECHWARRIOR 3: PIRAT
  1999, Developer: Zipper
  concerned about possible confusion between the use of the planet Coventry vs.
  the British city of the same name.  The fi ction of the game changed as a result.
  A
  M
  hC
  d
  h
  h
  B
  l T
  h
  The race came to 
  showed FASA Intera
  Gerritson led the proj
  a mountain and destr
  intact, and environme
  placeholders at thi
  fi nished title, bu
  simulation to
  Shortly f
  3 ceased
  newco
  Death
  blen
  do
  ele
  ta
  c
  t
  t
  F
  r
  b
  g
  Th
  title
  forc
  MECH
  1999
  Publish
  Platform
  MechComm
  of a success to w
  pack 
  titled
  Despe
  expansion pack featu
  on the planet Cermak
  to the street on whic
  Interactive offi  ces we
  PUBLICATION: VIRTUAL WORLD ENTERTAINMENT PROMOTIONAL MATERIAL
  YEAR: 1997
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  C O M P U T E R  G A M E S
  257
  
  MECHWARRIOR 4: BLACK KNIGHT
  2001, Developer: Cyberlore Studios/FASA Studios
  Publisher: Microsoft
  Platform: Windows
  The fi rst expansion pack for MechWarrior 4 
  set a tone that hadn’t been seen in BattleTech 
  games since the MechWarrior 2 franchise 
  at Activision. Splitting development with 
  Cyberlore Studios, Black Knight tells the tale 
  of a mercenary unit fi ghting against the 
  protagonists of MechWarrior 4: Vengeance. 
  In an interesting twist true to the nature of 
  the fi ctional world of BattleTech, there are 
  no clearly defi ned heroes. The heroes in one 
  game become the villains in the next.
  MECHWARRIOR 4: CLAN ’MECH PAK
  2002, Developer: Cyberlore Studio/
  FASA Studios
  Publisher: Microsoft
  Platform: Windows
  The fi rst expansion pack aimed at 
  MechWarrior 4: Vengeance and the upcoming 
  MechWarrior 4: Mercenaries, this title was 
  exactly as named:  new Clan ’Mechs and 
  Clan weapons for the MechWarrior 4 engine. 
  The Cauldron-Born, Arctic Wolf, Kodiak and 
  Masakari joined the ranks in this release. 
  The Masakari was the winner of a fan site 
  survey done online to choose ’Mechs for the 
  release.
  MECHWARRIOR 4: 
  INNER SPHERE ’MECH PAK
  2002, Developer: Cyberlore Studio/
  FASA Studios
  Publisher: Microsoft
  Platform: Windows
  The fl ip side of the Clan ’Mech Pak, the 
  Inner Sphere ’Mech Pak featured even 
  more weapons and ’Mechs to add to the 
  MechWarrior 4 pot. The Dragon, Highlander, 
  Hunchback and Zeus appear in MechWarrior 
  4, the Zeus being the winner of the online 
  fan contest this time. With these two 
  software releases, MechWarrior 4:Vengeance 
  and MechWarrior 4: Mercenaries have access 
  to over 44 ’Mech chassis, the most ’Mechs 
  available for play since The Crescent Hawks’ 
  Revenge. 
  MECHWARRIOR 4: MERCENARIES
  2002, Developer: Cyberlore Studios/
  FASA Studios
  Publisher: Microsoft
  Platform: Windows
  Revisiting themes from the original 
  MechWarrior 
  (1989) 
  and 
  MechWarrior 
  2: 
  Mercenaries 
  (1996), 
  MechWarrior 
  4: 
  Mercenaries was the feather in the cap of 
  BattleTech games up to this point. Free to 
  join the Kell Hounds, the Gray Death Legion, 
  the Northwind Highlanders or the infamous 
  Wolf’s Dragoons, a player can barter his or 
  her way across the Inner Sphere as part of a 
  mercenary unit forging their own legend. Set 
  against the backdrop of the FedCom Civil War 
  MECHWARRIOR 4: VENGEANCE
  2000, Developer: FASA Studios
  Publisher: Microsoft
  Platform: Windows
  With the backing of Microsoft, the FASA 
  MechWarrior team set out to create what 
  would be, in their minds, the ultimate 
  ’Mech-based game. The story follows the 
  original treatments of the FASA Interactive 
  MechWarrior, with extensive use of live actors 
  in the cinematics.  The development team 
  was a mix of programmers and designers 
  who cut their teeth on the LBE version of 
  BattleTech, led by T.J. Wagner. Thirteen of 
  the team of forty-nine developers traced 
  their experiences back to VWE System 2/3, Tesla and the aborted MechWarrior 3.
  MechWarrior 4 featured many of the concepts introduced in previous games, 
  including limping ’Mechs and coolant, and included for the fi rst time active 
  sensor and radar suites. A change to the design for customization of ’Mechs led 
  to some controversy in BattleTech circles. Since MechWarrior 2’s release in 1995, 
  players had been used to unlimited freedom in putting whatever weapon system 
  on whatever ’Mech they wanted in any position. This led to some “game breaking” 
  designs that caused problems in multi-player games from unbalanced ’Mechs. The 
  MechWarrior 4 solution was the introduction of “hard points” on a ’Mech chassis.  
  Now only certain weapons could be mounted on certain ‘Mechs in certain areas.  
  This change made game play more balanced, but many players did not like this 
  departure from the original pen-and-paper game.
  Set against the backdrop of the FedCom Civil War on Kentares, MechWarrior 4 
  went on to be one of the biggest titles of 2000 and garner many awards.
  MULTI-PLAYER BATTLETECH: 3025
  2001, Developer: Kesmai
  Publisher: Electronic Arts
  Platform: Windows
  Kesmai’s previous online games, MPBT and MPBT: Solaris, had gained a 
  considerable following online. An extensive online community had grown 
  up around these titles and eagerly awaited the next version. Kesmai was 
  purchased by industry giant Electronic Arts in 1999, and work was ongoing 
  on this fl agship title. Focused on squad-based ’Mech combat prior to the Clan 
  Invasion, heat was a major issue in game play, and the online component was 
  very robust. The game made it as far as a public beta in 2001, when Electronic 
  Arts cancelled the title.
  MECHCOMMANDER 2
  2001, Developer: Fasa Studios
  Publisher: Microsoft
  Platform: Windows
  The MechCommander team from FASA 
  Interactive expanded and started work 
  on the 3-D sequel to their previous title.  
  MechCommander 2 took many of the 
  concepts of MechCommander where the 
  designers had originally wanted to go. The 
  3-D engine freed the player to zoom all over 
  the battlefi eld and view combat from any 
  perspective.  In this title, the FedCom Civil 
  War continues to rage on Carver V.
  MechCommander 2 benefi ted from the increased production value Microsoft 
  could provide at the time, and many BattleTech game assets were shared with 
  MechWarrior 4, key among them sound and weapons eff ects. The sound and look 
  of battle in the two games are identical, as FASA Studios attempted to make the 
  BattleTech universe cohesive for the fi rst time. A player who fi res a PPC or Gauss 
  rifl e in MechWarrior 4 can expect the same sensory feedback in MechCommander. 
  To demonstrate the strength of their XNA Build Software, Microsoft released the 
  source code of MechCommander 2 to the general public in August of 2006.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  C O M P U T E R  G A M E S
  258
  
  in 3064, all the stops were pulled out for this BattleTech title. BattleMechs from this 
  title and the MechCommander titles are featured in Technical Readout: 3060.
  The MechWarrior 4 engine was refi ned and the level of ’Mechs available for 
  play was the largest yet, especially after the hooks left in the game for future 
  expansions.  In the two years since the implementation of the “hard point” system, 
  the game had become a huge success online, with multiple leagues available for 
  play. Many of the older MPBT players had migrated to Web-based 
  groups, touting their successes. An interesting development soon 
  came along, courtesy of MechWarrior 4 licensee Tsunami Visual 
  Technologies. Showcased in the Tsumo Multi-Game Motion 
  System, a dramatically simplifi ed MechWarrior 4 begins to 
  appear in arcades. The Tsumo Multi-Game Motion System 
  features a simple motion platform to couple movement 
  with onscreen actions. MechWarrior 4 is featured in a 
  stripped-down version where the pilot fi ghts wave after 
  wave of enemy ’Mechs. The game is networkable for up 
  to eight players simultaneously.
  MechWarrior 4: Mercenaries ends with the conclusion 
  of the FedCom Civil War and plants the seeds for 
  the ominous events that lie in wait for the BattleTech 
  universe, courtesy of the Word of Blake. Those stories 
  and fi ghts would be part of another platform, however. 
  With the conclusion of the MechWarrior 4 series, 
  FASA Studio turned to work on a pair of games for 
  Microsoft’s new Xbox title, revisited Shadowrun, 
  and began work on MechWarrior: Prime.  As part 
  of the promotion for MechWarrior 4: Mercenaries, 
  FASA Studios partnered with their old friends 
  at VWE, creating a version of Mercenaries that 
  could be played at E3 on VWE pods.  This led 
  to yet another iteration of LBE software.
  BATTLETECH: FIRESTORM
  2002, Developer: FASA Studios/Cyberlore 
  Studios/Virtual 
  World 
  Entertainment/ 
  Gameleap
  Platform: LBE
  The latest iteration of LBE software was developed with possibly 
  the largest contingent yet of developers responsible in one way or 
  another for this title. The custom Division graphics cards and PCs 
  were pulled from the VWE cockpits and replaced with high-end 
  Alienware PC Gaming rigs. Using the proprietary VWE hardware 
  for MFD and controls, the MechWarrior 4: Mercenaries engine was 
  ported to the cockpits. With Infi nity Optics mirrors and surround 
  sound, this version of BattleTech became the most realistic a pilot 
  can imagine. Game play was tweaked again from the MechWarrior 
  4 engine to provide a diff erent experience for the LBE player. 
  Korean developer Gameleap was instrumental in getting the 
  MechWarrior 4 engine to work with the VWE hardware. 
  attleTech title. BattleMechs from this
  d in Technical Readout: 3060.
  d the level of ’Mechs available for
  hooks left in the game for future
  entation of the “hard point” system,
  with multiple leagues available for
  migrated to Web-based 
  development soon 
  e Tsunami Visual
  Game Motion 
  r 4 begins to 
  tion System 
  movement 
  ured in a 
  wave after 
  ble for up 
  onclusion 
  seeds for 
  BattleTech
  ose stories 
  , however. 
  series,
  es for 
  wrun,
  art
  s, 
  re 
  nt/ 
  loped with possibly
  nsible in one way or
  phics cards and PCs
  aced with high-end
  tary VWE hardware
  cenaries engine was
  irrors and surround
  most realistic a pilot 
  m the MechWarrior 
  for the LBE player. 
  tal in getting the 
  ardware. 
  PUBLICATION: MECHCOMMANDER
  YEAR: 1998
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  C O M P U T E R  G A M E S
  259
  
  ARTIST: TOM PETERS
  PUBLICATION: VIRTUAL WORLD ENTERTAINMENT
  ARTIST: TOM PETERS
  PUBLICATION: VIRTUAL WORLD ENTERTAINMENT
  any other team assembled at that time. Some had experience on VWE cockpit 
  games, MechWarrior 3, MechCommander 1 and 2, and the MechWarrior 4 series.  
  MechAssault had a truly outstanding pedigree.
  MechAssault was unleashed as one of the launch titles for the nascent Xbox live 
  service. It staked a claim to that service that earned it great reviews, awards, and a 
  dedicated fan base that few other titles of the original Xbox enjoyed.
  MECHASSAULT 2: LONE WOLF
  2004, Developer: Day 1 Studios
  Publisher: Microsoft
  Platform: Xbox
  The journey of the lost Dragoons 
  continued in this Xbox title by Day 1 
  Studios. While MechAssault focused on 
  ’Mech combat, Lone Wolf opened the 
  game world to let the player fi ght in 
  battle armor or tanks, hang from aircraft, 
  and pilot ‘Mechs.
  Microsoft was undergoing changes 
  to its internal studio system, with 
  development gearing up for the Xbox 
  360.  FASA Studios dealt with the fallout 
  of developing Crimson Skies: High Road 
  to Revenge (another Xbox Live favorite) 
  and the diffi  culties with Shadowrun 
  (a title that had been 
  in 
  development 
  with 
  FASA 
  Interactive as far back as 1997).  Day 1 forged on, 
  with T.J. Wagner producing, David Luehmann 
  managing for Microsoft, and Denny Thorley as 
  president.
  These changes meant that Lone Wolf would 
  be the last major BattleTech game released 
  by Microsoft.  MechAssault 2: Lone Wolf had 
  excellent graphic detail, and the action-based 
  game play was even better than in the original. Like 
  its predecessor, it was a major success on Xbox Live. 
  Critics took issue with some licensed rock music, and game play 
  that some said was a nod toward “Grand ’Mech Auto” with the 
  integration of the neuro-hacking element to the game. 
  Another criticism came from the implementation 
  of truly giant robot bosses within the game.  
  Coupled with the licensed rock music, many felt 
  that MechAssault 2 stepped too closely in line 
  with other action-shooter games of the time.
  Day 1 eventually pitched MechAssault 3 to 
  Microsoft, but Microsoft declined to pick up the 
  title for the Xbox 360, 
  instead focusing on FASA Studios’ Shadowrun. FASA 
  Studios planned to return to the air with another Crimson Skies title, and to fully 
  commit to development of MechWarrior: Prime for the PC and Xbox 360. When 
  Shadowrun was fi nally released in June of 2007, it was the fi rst title that allowed 
  owners of Microsoft’s new console to play PC players at the same time. Xbox Live 
  will never be the same, and neither will FASA Studios, which was shut down by 
  Microsoft shortly after the launch of the title.
  MECHASSAULT
  2002, Developer: Day 1 Studios/
  FASA Studios
  Publisher: Microsoft
  Platform: Xbox
  BattleMechs had last appeared on a 
  gaming console in 1997, and in 2002 they 
  returned in a big way. Denny Thorley had 
  approached Microsoft about creating a 
  game designed from scratch specifi cally 
  for consoles. The result was MechAssault, 
  Day 1 Studios’ premiere title, which takes 
  the player into third-person combat 
  piloting a ’Mech as a Wolf’s Dragoons 
  MechWarrior. MechAssault is an action-
  based shooter whose roots go all the way 
  back to BattleTech: A Game of Armored 
  Combat for the Genesis. It uses the device 
  of Inner Sphere and Clan ’Mech names to 
  diff erentiate ’Mech variants in the game; 
  for example, while the Uziel and Belial 
  share geometry, their weapon load-
  outs are diff erent.
  MechAssault reunited many of the 
  original FASA Interactive employees. 
  Tom Dowd and T.J. Wagner led 
  teams that had more BattleTech 
  experience 
  than 
  p o s s i b l y 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  C O M P U T E R  G A M E S
  260
  
  TO THE FUTURE…
  Since 1988, the BattleTech universe has been featured in 34 diff erent computer 
  and video games. It has inspired countless imitators, including Earth Siege, 
  Star Siege, Heavy Gear, Armored Core, Gun Griffi  n, Steel Battalion, and Chrome 
  Hounds, to name but a few. The gamers of the 21st century can hardly wait to be 
  taken back to the battlefi elds of the 31st century. Only time can tell when that 
  will happen.
  MECHASSAULT: PHANTOM WAR
  2006, Developer: Backbone Entertainment
  Publisher: Majesco Entertainment
  Platform: Nintendo DS
  The most recent entry in the BattleTech 
  universe is fought on the Nintendo DS. Up 
  to four players can battle wirelessly with 
  this version of MechAssault. With players 
  fi ghting for the Lyran Alliance, this title 
  is probably the lightest when it comes to 
  fi tting into the BattleTech fi ctional universe. 
  Utilizing the ’Mechs featured in the fi rst 
  MechAssault title, the player has the ability 
  to neuro-hack as in MechAssault 2. This 
  is the fi rst title set in the 32nd century. 
  Phantom War had the smallest release of 
  any BattleTech title to date, and shared 
  none of the development teams of the 
  previous titles.
  FANDOM
  Just like the board game, fans all over the world 
  have immersed themselves into the BattleTech 
  universe through the various computer 
  games, with a legion of various on-line 
  communities binding them together. 
  One such on-line group, or mod 
  group, is known as Mektek. Featured 
  at 
  www.mektek.net, 
  Mektek 
  has produced studio quality 
  “fan mods” for the PC games 
  MechWarrior III and IV. The 
  “MekPaks”, 
  a 
  completely 
  free fan-made expansion to 
  Microsofts’ Mechwarrior IV, 
  have given the associated on-
  line community and organized 
  leagues new studio grade content 
  for years.
  Another class of BattleTech fans—
  centered around www.mechjock.com—are those who have 
  acquired and collected the pinnacle of ‘Mech simulation, 
  the BattleTech Virtual Reality Cockpits (Pods). Since the 
  opening of the Chicago BattleTech Center in the 90s, 
  BattleTech fans have dreamed of being able to take 
  the ultimate BattleTech toy home. With the closing of 
  the privately owned Virtual World facilities in the mid 
  nineties, the BattleTech VR technology quietly made 
  it into the hands of private collectors. 
  ce, this title
   it comes to
  nal universe.
  d in the fi rst
  as the ability
  sault 2. This
  2nd century.
  st release of 
  and shared
  eams of the
  ns all over the world 
  nto the BattleTech
  us computer
  rious on-line 
  gether. 
  p, or mod 
  k. Featured 
  tek 
  ed 
  ent 
  fans—
  ck.com—are those who have 
  nnacle of ‘Mech simulation, 
  Cockpits (Pods). Since the 
  eTech Center in the 90s, 
  d of being able to take
  me. With the closing of 
  orld facilities in the mid 
  chnology quietly made 
  lectors. 
  PUBLICATION: MECHCOMMANDER
  YEAR: 1998
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  C O M P U T E R  G A M E S
  261
  
  MECHWARRIOR 4: MERCENARIES
  MECHWARRIOR 3: PIRATE’S MOON
  MEC
  MEC
  MECHWA
  HWA
  HWARRI
  RRI
  RRIOR
  OR
  OR 3: PIR
  PIR
  PIRATE
  ATE
  ATE’S’S’S MOO
  MOO
  MOON
  C
  MEC
  MEC
  MEC
  MEC
  MEC
  MECHWA
  HWA
  HWA
  HWA
  HWA
  HWARR
  RRI
  RRI
  RRI
  RRI
  RRI
  RRIOR
  OR
  OR
  OR
  OR
  OR
  OR 4:4:4:4:
  R
  MER
  MER
  MER
  MER
  MER
  MERCEN
  CEN
  CEN
  CEN
  CEN
  CEN R
  ARI
  ARI
  ARI
  ARI
  ARI
  ARI SESESESESESES
  BATTLETECH FIRESTORM
  MECHWARRIOR 3
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  C O M P U T E R  G A M E S
  262
  
  MECHCOMMANDER
  TESLA BATTLETECH
  MECHCOMMANDER 2
  MECHCOMMANDER INTRO
  MECHCOMMANDER
  C
  MEC
  MEC CO
  HCO
  HCOMMA
  MMANDE
  NDER I
  R INTR
  NTRO
  MEC
  MECHCO
  HCOMMA
  MMANDE
  NDER 2
  R 2
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  C O M P U T E R  G A M E S
  263
  
  V I R T U A L  W O R L D  E N T E R T A I N M E N T
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  264
  
  V I R T U A L  W O R L D  E N T E R T A I N M E N T
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  265
  
  V I R T U A L  W O R L D  E N T E R T A I N M E N T
  VIRTUAL WORLD ENTERTAINMENT/
         BATTLETECH CENTER PATCHES
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  266
  
  V I R T U A L  W O R L D  E N T E R T A I N M E N T
  ‘TESLA’ BATTLETECH SCREENSHOT
  loki
  Tonnage 
   
   
  75
  Armor points 
   
   
  1940
  Reservoir Size (Liters) 
   
  100
  Number of Heat Sinks 
   
  11
  Torso speed (deg/sec) 
   
  60
  Torso Limit (degrees) 
   
  110
  0-100 Kph (in seconds) 
   
  4.5
  100-0 Kph ( in seconds)  
  4.5
  Top Speed Normal 
   
  143
  Top Speed Super Charged 
  182
  Top Speed Gimped 
   
  40 
   
  mech stats
  PPC
  Loop 4
  Medium Laser
  Loop 1
  AFC 100
   (15 rounds)
  Loop 1
  Search Lamp
  SRM 6
   (30 salvos)
  Loop 3
  ER Small Laser
   Loop 2
  ER Small Laser
   Loop 3
  PPC
  Loop 6
  Medium Laser
  Loop 6
  ER Small Laser
  Loop 2  
  AFC 50
  (30rounds)
  Medium Laser
  Generator A
  ER Small Laser
  ER Small Laser
  Generator B
  Sensors
  ER Small Laser
  SRM 6 
  (30 salvos)
  PPC
  Generator D
  Myomers
  PPC
  Medium Laser
  loop 
  loop 2
  loop 3
  loop 4
  loop 5
  loop 6
  coolant loops
  madcat
  Tonnage 
   
   
  75
  Armor points 
   
   
  2195
  Reservoir Size (Liters) 
   
  2800
  Number of Heat Sinks 
   
  28
  Torso speed (deg/sec) 
   
  80
  Torso Limit (degrees) 
   
  90
  0-100 Kph (in seconds) 
   
  4.2
  100-0 Kph ( in seconds)  
  4
  Top Speed Normal 
   
  175
  Top Speed Super Charged 
  220
  Top Speed Gimped 
   
  62
   
   
  mech stats
  LRM 15
  (16 salvos)
  Loop 1
  Search Lamp
  LRM 15
  (16 salvos)
  Loop 3
  ER Small Laser
  Loop 2
  AFC 100
  (15 rounds)
  Loop 4
  ER Small Laser
  Loop 2
  ER Large Laser
  Loop 6
  LRM 15
  (16 salvos) 
  Generator A
  ER Small Laser
  ER Small Laser
  Generator B
  Sensors
  LRM 15
  (16 salvos)
  Generator C
  AFC 100
  (15 rounds)
  Generator D
  Myomers
  ER Large Laser
  loop 1
  loop 2
  loop 3
  loop 4
  loop 5
  loop 6
  coolant loops
  owens
  Tonnage 
   
   
  25
  Armor points 
   
   
  760
  Reservoir Size (Liters) 
   
  1500
  Number of Heat Sinks 
   
  15
  Torso speed (deg/sec) 
   
  0
  Torso Limit (degrees) 
   
  0
  0-100 Kph (in seconds) 
   
  4.2
  100-0 Kph ( in seconds)  
  5
  Top Speed Normal 
   
  154
  Top Speed Super Charged 
  265
  Top Speed Gimped 
   
  63 
  ER Medium Laser
  ER Small Laser
  ER Small Laser
  Generator A
  Second Set Of 
  Myomers
  Generator B
  Sensors
  ER Small Laser
  ER Small Laser
  ER Medium Laser
  Generator C
  SRM 6
  (12 salvos)
  Generator D
  Myomers
  SRM 6 
  (12 salvos)
  mech stats
  loop 1
  loop 2
  loop 3
  loop 4
  loop 5
  loop 6
  ER Medium Laser
  Loop 3
  SRM 6
  12 Salvos
  Loop 5
  Search Lamp
  SRM 6
  12 Salvos
  Loop 6
  ER Medium Laser
  Loop 1
  ER Small Laser
  Loop 3
  ER Small Laser
  Loop 1
  ER Small Laser
  Loop 3
  ER Small Laser
  Loop 1
  coolant loops
  sunder
  Tonnage 
   
   
  75
  Armor points 
   
   
  2215
  Reservoir Size (Liters) 
   
  1400
  Number of Heat Sinks 
   
  14
  Torso speed (deg/sec) 
   
  70
  Torso Limit (degrees) 
   
  100
  0-100 Kph (in seconds) 
   
  4
  100-0 Kph ( in seconds)  
  6
  Top Speed Normal 
   
  143
  Top Speed Super Charged 
  182
  Top Speed Gimped 
   
  38
   
   
  mech stats
  ER Small Laser
  Loop 1 
  AFC 100
  (15 Rounds)
  Loop 4
  ER Small Laser
  Loop 1 
  LRM 10
  (16 salvos)
  Loop 2
  Search Lamp
  ER  Medium Laser
  Loop 6
  AFC 25
  (12 Rounds)
  Loop 6
  Medium Laser
  Loop 3 
  Medium Laser
  Loop 5
  ER Small Laser
  ER Small Laser
  Generator A
  LRM 10
  (16 salvos)
  Sensors
  Generator B
  ER Medium Laser
  Medium Laser
  Generator C
  AFC 100
  (15 Rounds)
  Myomers
  Medium Laser
  Generator D
  ER Medium Laser
  AFC 25
  (12 Rounds)
  loop 1
  loop 2
  loop 3
  loop 4
  loop 5
  loop 6
  coolant loops
  ER Medium Laser
  Loop 3 
  thor
  Tonnage 
   
   
  75
  Armor points 
   
   
  2110
  Reservoir Size (Liters) 
   
  3800
  Number of Heat Sinks 
   
  38
  Torso speed (deg/sec) 
   
  60
  Torso Limit (degrees) 
   
  110
  0-100 Kph (in seconds) 
   
  4.5
  100-0 Kph ( in seconds)  
  4.5
  Top Speed Normal 
   
  143
  Top Speed Super Charged 
  182
  Top Speed Gimped 
   
  40
   
   
  mech stats
  ER PPC
  Loop 4
  Large Laser
  Loop 1
  ER Small Laser
  Loop 1
  LRM 15
  (16 salvos)
  Loop 2
  Search Lamp
  ER Medium Laser
  Loop 3
  ER PPC
  Loop 6
  ER Small Laser
  Loop 3
  Large Laser
  ER Small Laser
  Generator A
  LRM 15
   (16 salvos)
  Generator B
  Sensors
  ER Medium Laser
  ER Small Laser
  ER PPC
  Generator D
  Myomers
  ER PPC
  loop 1
  loop 2
  loop 3
  loop 4
  loop 5
  loop 6
  coolant loops
  vulture
  Tonnage 
   
   
  75
  Armor points 
   
   
  2025
  Reservoir Size (Liters) 
   
  2400
  Number of Heat Sinks 
   
  24
  Torso speed (deg/sec) 
   
  50
  Torso Limit (degrees) 
   
  130
  0-100 Kph (in seconds) 
   
  4.7
  100-0 Kph ( in seconds)  
  3
  Top Speed Normal 
   
  175
  Top Speed Super Charged 
  235
  Top Speed Gimped 
   
  62 
  mech stats
  ER Small Laser
  Loop 4
  LRM 20
  (18 salvos)
  Loop 1
  Large Laser
  Loop 4
  Search Lamp
  ER Medium Laser
  Loop 2
  ER Medium Laser
  Loop 2
  LRM 20
  (18 salvos)
  Loop 3
  ER Small Laser
  Loop 6
  Large Laser
  Loop 6
  LRM 20
  (18 salvos)
  Generator A
  ER Medium Laser
  ER Medium Laser
  Generator B
  Sensors
  LRM 20
  (18 salvos)
  Loop 3
  Generator C
  ER Small Laser
  Large Laser
  Generator D
  Myomers
  ER Small Laser
  Large Laser
  Medium Laser
  loop 1
  loop 2
  loop 3
  loop 4
  loop 5
  loop 6
  coolant loops
  ’MECH STAT CARDS FROM VIRTUAL WORLD ENTERTAINMENT’S BATTLETECH COCKPIT OPERATIONS MANUAL
  VIRTUAL WORLD’S POSTER FOR ‘TESLA’ BATTLETECH 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  267
  
  T H E  C A R T O O N
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H
  T H E  
  E  
  E  
  E  
  E  
  E  
  E
  C A
  C A
  C A
  C A
  C A
  C A
  C A
  C A
  C A
  C AA
  C AA R T
  R T
  R T
  R T
  R T
  R T
  R TT
  R T
  R T
  R T
  R T
  R T
  R T O O
  O O
  O O
  O O
  O O
  O O
  O O
  O O
  O O
  O O
  O
  N
  PUBLICATION: 1ST SOMERSET STRIKERS
  YEAR: 1995
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  268
  
  T H E  C A R T O O N
  This is the Inner Sphere—
  thousands of planets colonized 
  by humankind. Once it was 
  united under the Star League, 
  but for the last three hundred 
  years it has been consumed 
  by savage wars. Until a new 
  enemy appeared—mysterious 
  invaders known as the Clans. 
  Powerful and ruthless, they 
  struck like lightning, attacking 
  every sector at once. But they 
  made one big mistake: they 
  attacked my home planet! Now, 
  in the spirit of the Star League, 
  ancient enemies have reunifi ed 
  … and we’re gonna 
  take back our galaxy!
  T H E  C A R T O
  ADAM STEINER
  ANDREW STEINER
  NICOLAI MALTHUS
  KRISTEN REDMOND
  The BattleTech animated series aired in 1994, produced for syndication by Saban Entertainment. It ran for 13 episodes and 
  was noteworthy for its blending of traditional animation techniques with computer animation (for the battle scenes).
  The series followed the adventures of Major Adam Steiner and the 1st Somerset Strikers, a freelance military unit on a 
  mission to fi ght the Clan invaders in 3050 and liberate Major Steiner’s homeworld of Somerset from the clutches of Clan 
  Jade Falcon.
  A line of toys were released in support of the cartoon by Tyco.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  269
  
  L I C E N S E E S
  BATTLETECH CHECKS
  BATTLETECH CHECKS
  JOYRIDE MECHWARRIOR TOYS
  BATTLETECH COMIC BOOKS
  BATTLETECH CHECKS
  BATTLETECH CHECKS
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  270
  
  L I C E N S E E S
  BATTLETECH SHIRTS
  BATTLETECH BOOK GAME
  BATTLETECH PLASTIC MODEL KITS
  BATTLETECHNOLOGY MAGAZINE
  BATTLETECHNOLOGY MAGAZINE
  BA
  BA
  BATTTTTTLELELETETETECH
  CH
  CH PLA
  LA
  LASTSTSTICICIC MOD
  OD
  ODELELEL KITITITS
  B
  C S R S
  BA
  BA
  BATT
  TT
  TTLELELETETETECH
  CH
  CH BOO
  OO
  OOK GA
  GA
  GAME
  ME
  ME
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  271
  
  L I C E N S E E S
  K’NEX MECHWARRIOR MAD CAT KIT
  BATTLETECH AUDIO BOOKS
  VIDEO GAME STRATEGY GUIDE
  BATTLETECH KEY CHAINS
  K’NEX MECHWARRIOR MAD CAT KIT
  VIVIDE
  DEO GA
  GAME
  ME STR
  TRAT
  ATEG
  EGY GU
  GUIDIDE
  BATTLETECH AUDIO BOOKS
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  272
  
  L I C E N S E E S
  K’NEX MECHWARRIOR KITS
  HEAVY METAL BATTLETECH DESIGN AND RECORD SHEET SOFTWARE
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  273
  
  B A T T L E T E C H  P A T C H E S
  B A T T L E T E C H  P A T C H E S
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  274
  
  B A T T L E T E C H  P A T C H E S
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  275
  
  B A T T L E T E C H  T R A D I N G  C A R D  G A M E
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  276
  
  B A T T L E T E C H  T R A D I N G  C A R D  G A M E
  The BattleTech Trading Card Game was published by Wizards of the Coast between 1996 and 1998. It included the original 
  edition, a Commander’s Edition two years later, as well as fi ve total expansions that encompassed the storyline from the 
  Clan Invasion of 3049 until the Trial of Refusal against the Clan invasion of the Inner sphere in 3061.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  277
  
  THE PRICE OF GLORY
  William H. Keith, 1987 (reprint, 1993)
  BT Dates: 12/01/3027 to 04/01/3028
  After capturing Sirius V from the Capellans for House 
  Marik, the Gray Death receives a landhold on Helm, but 
  the Legion is betrayed, framed, and attacked as ComStar 
  and an ambitious Free Worlds noble attempt to seize 
  their new home. In the struggle, the Legion uncovers a 
  Star League facility packed with lostech and information 
  that becomes known as the Gray Death Memory Core.
  THE SPIDER AND THE WOLF (GRAPHIC NOVEL)
  Gideon & Scott Oehler, 1986
  Comic book detailing adventures of the Black Widow Company of Wolf’s 
  Dragoons and a mission of revenge against Anton Marik.
  SHRAPNEL: FRAGMENTS FROM THE INNER SPHERE
  Various, 1988
  A collection of 15 mostly character-driven short stories covering various aspects 
  of the BattleTech universe in the 3025-3030 era, including Solaris VII, Tormano 
  Liao, Cranston Snord, Natasha Kerensky, Duke Ricol (of GDL fame) and the Gray 
  Death Legion.
  WARRIOR: EN GARDE (THE WARRIOR TRILOGY, VOL. I)
  Michael A. Stackpole, 1988 (reprint, 1998)
  BT Dates: 11/27/3026 to 06/05/3027
  The preamble to the Fourth Succession War begins with the Kell Hounds 
  escorting the Lyran Commonwealth’s Archon-designate Melissa Steiner to a 
  secret meeting with Hanse Davion, Prince of the Federated Suns. Also featured 
  are Justin Allard’s adventures on Solaris VII in a scheme to infi ltrate House Liao.
  WARRIOR: RIPOSTE (THE WARRIOR TRILOGY, VOL. II)
  Michael A. Stackpole, 1988 (reprint, 1998)
  BT Dates: 10/10/3027 to 02/14/3029
  The wedding of Melissa Steiner to Hanse Davion sparks the beginning of the 
  Fourth Succession War with assaults by the Lyran and Federated realms on their 
  neighbors. House Liao’s Capellan Confederation is hardest hit.
  WOLVES ON THE BORDER
  Robert N. Charrette, 1988 (reprint, 1996)
  BT Dates: 03/09/3023 to 05/27/3028
  Wolf’s Dragoons battle House Kurita on the Davion border in this Fourth 
  Succession War book that also delves into Takashi Kurita’s obsession with the 
  Dragoons and the epic confl ict between Minobu Tetsuhara and Jaime Wolf.
  BattleTech is much more than a board game. Vibrant, strong and still growing 
  after twenty-fi ve years, the fi ctional universe and the valiant struggles of its 
  dynamic human characters, set against a far-future battlefi eld, have endeared it 
  to millions of fans and will continue to do so into the future.
  To convey the universe to the BattleTech community (as well as demonstrate 
  how players can take that universe and integrate it into the game system), a host 
  of diff erent lines of rulebooks, sourcebooks, scenario packs, campaign packs, box 
  sets, and so on, have been published over the last 25 years. 
  As players read through the bibliography or encounter BattleTech sourcebooks 
  and rulebooks beyond this book, they will encounter books that bear the title 
  “BattleTech” and other products that bear the title “Classic BattleTech.” What’s the 
  diff erence? BattleTech was originally published by FASA Corporation. When FASA 
  Corporation closed its doors the BattleTech property was purchased by WizKids 
  LLC, who licensed the rights to continue to produce books in the same vein as 
  FASA Corporation to FanPro LLC. WizKids leapt the timeline forward to create 
  MechWarrior: Dark Age, a collectible miniatures game (see p. 238), set 65 years into 
  BattleTech’s future, at that time. To help ensure there was no brand confusion, the 
  word “Classic” was added to the BattleTech title, though the game and its fi ctional 
  setting remained the same. To celebrate the 25th anniversary of BattleTech, 
  Catalyst Game Labs, the current publisher of BattleTech books, has secured the 
  rights to revert “Classic BattleTech” to “BattleTech.” However, regardless of what title 
  a book bears, it’s all BattleTech and it’s all part of the skein that has been woven of 
  a fantastic universe that’s fun to visit at the table top and between the pages of 
  any of its book.
  The following is a complete bibliography of products—whether novels, 
  rulebooks, sourcebooks, game aids and so on—published by FASA Corporation, 
  FanPro LLC, WizKids LLC or Catalyst Game Labs for the BattleTech universe.
  STORY FICTION
  DECISION AT THUNDER RIFT
  William H. Keith, 1986 (reprint, 1992)
  BT Dates: 08/01/3024 to 11/30/3024
  The formation of the Gray Death Legion from the 
  remains of Carlyle’s Commando’s on Trell I is detailed 
  in this book, which also gives an account of Duke 
  Ricol (the “Red Duke”), a Kurita noble, and his eff ort to 
  seize the Lyran world.
  THE SWORD AND THE DAGGER
  Ardath Mayhar, 1987
  BT Dates: not given (pre-Fourth Succession War)
  Maximilian Liao places a double on the throne of New Avalon in an eff ort to 
  take over House Davion and the Federated Suns, but is thwarted by Ardan Sortek, 
  commander of Prince Hanse Davion’s personal guard.
  MERCENARY’S STAR
  William H. Keith, 1987 (reprint, 1992)
  BT Dates: 10/01/3025 to 08/30/3026
  Grayson Carlyle continues to build his Gray Death Legion and takes his fi rst 
  mission as a mercenary commander after journeying to Galatea, the so-called 
  Mercenary’s Star. The new mission takes the Legion to Verthandi, another Lyran 
  world recently overrun by minions of House Kurita’s Duke Ricol, where they train 
  the local resistance and ultimately drive out the Combine conquerors.
  BIBLIOGRAPHY
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  278
  
  truce at the battle of Tukayyid. Romano Liao and her husband are assassinated 
  by Candace Liao. Sun-Tzu announces his betrothal to Isis Marik. Phelan earns 
  the Ward Bloodname as a Warrior of Clan Wolf. Kai escapes Alyina after helping 
  the Clans defeat ComStar agents executing their disastrous Operation Scorpion. 
  Anastasius Focht kills Primus Myndo Waterly, creating the ComStar/Word of Blake 
  schism. Hanse Davion dies of a heart attack.
  WAY OF THE CLANS
  (LEGEND OF THE JADE PHOENIX, VOL. I) 
  Robert Thurston, 1991
  BT Dates: Not given (pre-Clan invasion)
  This novel tracks the rise of Aidan, a promising 
  trueborn MechWarrior of Clan Jade Falcon, through his 
  training as a child to his winning of a Trial of Position 
  under false pretenses.
  BLOODNAME (LEGEND OF THE JADE 
  PHOENIX, VOL. II) 
  Robert Thurston, 1991
  BT Dates: Not given (pre-Clan invasion to the early days of the invasion)
  This novel continues tracking Aidan as he reveals his false identity as a freeborn 
  to get a shot at fi ghting for and winning the Bloodname of Pryde.
  FALCON GUARD (LEGEND OF THE JADE PHOENIX, VOL. III)
  Robert Thurston, 1991
  BT Dates: Not given (but including the Battle of Tukayyid in 3052)
  Aidan Pryde receives command of the Falcon Guards, disgraced after their 
  defeat on Twycross, and turns them around in time for the famous Battle of 
  Tukayyid, where he is fi nally killed battling the Com Guards.
  WOLF PACK
  Robert N. Charrette, 1992
  BT Dates: 3053 to 3054, no specifi c dates given
  Wolf’s Dragoons fi ght a civil war after Colonel Jaime Wolf’s command seems to 
  lapse. Spurred on by Elson Novacat, a key fi gure in the opposition, the Dragoons 
  fi ght among themselves all over Outreach, though the majority of the actual 
  battle is confi ned to the “Outback”. Meanwhile, Coordinator Takashi Kurita, after 
  an attempt on his life by ISF head Subhash Indrahar, commits seppuku with the 
  aid of his son, Gunji-no-Kanrei Theodore Kurita, establishing Theodore as the new 
  Coordinator of the Draconis Combine.
  NATURAL SELECTION
  Michael A. Stackpole, 1992
  BT Dates: 02/15/3054 to 11/13/3055
  The Red Corsair, a Falcon agent posing as a Periphery bandit, raids several 
  worlds along the Clan front in a drive that threatens to repudiate the Clan truce if 
  the truth of her origins is discovered, but is thwarted by the Kell Hounds and an 
  old militia commander. Melissa Steiner-Davion is assassinated on Tharkad while 
  Victor is trying to tend to this crisis.
  WARRIOR: COUPÉ (THE WARRIOR TRILOGY, VOL. III)
  Michael A. Stackpole, 1989 (reprint, 1998)
  BT Dates: 03/03/3029 to 12/01/3029
  The conclusion of the Fourth Succession War sees the devastation of House 
  Liao from the inside and out and the formation of the Federated Commonwealth 
  despite eff orts by ComStar and the other Inner Sphere realms to stop them. 
  Myndo Waterly becomes Primus of ComStar.
  HEIR TO THE DRAGON
  Robert N. Charrette, 1989 (reprint, 1996)
  BT Dates: 05/17/3018 to 06/18/3040
  Covering key events in the life of Theodore Kurita and his ascent from a 
  shunned heir to his father, the Coordinator, and his position as Gunji-no-Kanrei 
  of the Draconis Combine. The storyline ranges from the closing years of the Third 
  Succession War through the War of 3039, and covers Theodore’s bargaining with 
  the Yakuza and ComStar to keep his realm alive in the face of resurgent enemies.
  LETHAL HERITAGE (BLOOD OF KERENSKY, VOL. I)
  Michael A. Stackpole, 1989 (reprint, 1995)
  BT Dates: 05/19/3049 to 01/12/3051
  The fi rst year of the Clan invasion, starting with 
  the overwhelming assault on the Periphery and the 
  capture of Phelan Kell by Clan Wolf in The Rock system, 
  to the death of ilKhan Leo Showers at the Radstadt 
  space battle. Other major battles detailed include 
  the capture of Turtle Bay and the razing of Edo by the 
  Smoke Jaguars, the fall of Trell I and Sudeten to the 
  Jade Falcons, and Rasalhague’s capture by Clan Wolf, 
  as well as the fi rst Inner Sphere victories on Twycross 
  and Wolcott.
  BLOOD LEGACY (BLOOD OF KERENSKY, VOL. II)
  Michael A. Stackpole, 1990 (reprint, 1995)
  BT Dates: 1/31/3-51 to 03/17/3052
  During the lull following the death of the Clan 
  invasion’s fi rst ilKhan, both sides regroup. Wolf’s 
  Dragoons summons the Inner Sphere leaders to 
  Outreach, where they train to fi ght a common enemy. 
  Meanwhile, Khan Ulric Kerensky of the Wolves ascends 
  to the position of ilKhan, and continues to lead the 
  invasion in late 3051. ComStar, after fi rst aiding the 
  invaders, launches plans to counter the Clan threat. 
  Major events: the battles for Luthien, the bloodless 
  capture of Gunzberg, and the taking of Alyina that 
  leaves Kai Allard-Liao trapped behind enemy lines. 
  The Clans unveil their goal to seize Terra. Justin Allard is assassinated by agents 
  of Romano Liao.
  LOST DESTINY (BLOOD OF KERENSKY, VOL. III)
  Michael A. Stackpole, 1991 (reprint, 1995)
  BT Dates: 01/05/3052 to 06/17/3052
  The Clan invasion is brought to a standstill when ComStar wins a 15-year 
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  279
  
  CLOSE QUARTERS
  Victor Milán, 1994
  BT Dates: 06/30/3056 to 12/02/3056
  Chandrasekhar Kurita, a progressive corporate 
  mogul loyal to Theodore Kurita, hires the mercenary 
  unit Camacho’s Caballeros to defend his holdings 
  on Hachiman against threats from the ISF and the 
  Yakuza. Shadow dealings between Kurita and the 
  Clans’ merchant caste are touched upon.
  TACTICS OF DUTY
  William H. Keith, 1995
  BT Dates: 03/05/3057 to 04/21/3057
  Still recovering from the trauma of commanding the defense of Glengarry in 
  the so-called Second Skye Rebellion, Alex Carlyle and Davis McCall of the Gray 
  Death Legion become involved in a popular revolt against the Davion-backed 
  government on nearby Caledonia. The GDL fi rmly moves into the pro-Katherine 
  camp and Grayson Carlyle is gravely wounded.
  BRED FOR WAR
  Michael A. Stackpole, 1995
  BT Dates: 05/20/3057 to 01/01/3058
  Victor’s attempt to put a double in place of the dying Joshua Marik prompts a 
  Marik-Liao invasion that serves as a pretext for Katherine’s secession of the Lyran 
  realm from the Federated Commonwealth, creating the rift that divides Steiner 
  and Davion.
  I AM JADE FALCON
  Robert Thurston, 1995
  BT Dates: 07/01/3057 to 12/31/3057
  The continuing recovery of the Falcon Guards from 
  the shame of their defeat on Twycross brings them 
  full circle during the Refusal War against Clan Wolf. 
  Natasha Kerensky is killed in personal combat against 
  Star Commander Joanna of the Falcon Guards.
  HIGHLANDER GAMBIT
  Blaine Lee Pardoe, 1995
  BT Dates: 08/08/3057 to 01/01/3058
  The Marik-Liao invasion of the Sarna March following the revelation of a double 
  being substituted for Marik’s son by Victor Steiner-Davion spurs many eff orts to 
  undercut potential FedCom supporters, including the Northwind Highlanders, 
  who were won over in the Fourth Succession War. Loren Jaff ray, a Capellan Death 
  Commando and descendant of a Highlander, is sent to Northwind to facilitate 
  the neutralization of the Highlanders. Instead, Loren defects to the Highlanders, 
  and helps the mercenaries secure their world’s independence from all the big 
  players.
  IDEAL WAR
  Christopher Kubasik, 1993
  BT Dates: 05/19/3054 to 03/03/3055
  The Word of Blake’s acquisition of a holding on Gibson is complicated by 
  subversives from the nearby Principality of Regulus in the Free Worlds League. 
  Also shown is the inception of the Knights of the Inner Sphere.
  MAIN EVENT
  Jim Long, 1993
  BT Dates: 04/23/3054 to 07/19/3055
  This novel details the formation of the Black Thorns mercenary unit, beginning 
  on Solaris VII and ending with their fi rst true battle against the Jade Falcons on 
  Borghese, thwarting an attempt by elements of the local government to surrender 
  their world to the Clans.
  ASSUMPTION OF RISK
  Michael A. Stackpole, 1993
  BT Dates: 12/19/3055 to 04/29/3056
  Kai Allard-Liao thwarts an eff ort by Tormano Liao to instigate war between the 
  Free Worlds League and the Federated Commonwealth in an eff ort to undercut 
  support for Sun-Tzu’s Capellan Confederation, using Peter Steiner-Davion as 
  a pawn. Skye is in a state of unrest. The same man hired to kill Melissa Steiner-
  Davion assassinates Ryan Steiner on Solaris VII, at Victor Steiner-Davion’s order.
  BLOOD OF HEROES
  Andrew Keith, 1993
  BT Dates: 03/31/3056 to 04/13/3056
  The Gray Death Legion is attacked on their homeworld of Glengarry by Skye 
  separatists hoping to neutralize them as a threat. With his father away, Alex 
  Carlyle, son of Grayson Carlyle, leads the unit’s defense.
  FAR COUNTRY
  Peter Rice, 1993
  BT Dates: 11/07/3056 to unknown
  A misjump carries a DCMS crew and their attached mercenaries to a world 
  populated by a lost ancient Combine culture and a bird-like race of intelligent 
  primitives.
  D.R.T.
  James Long, 1994
  BT Dates: 10/01/3056 to 11/06/3057
  The Black Thorns defend Wolcott against a Clan 
  Nova Cat assault, taking heavy losses, but winning a 
  full Trinary of Clan OmniMechs.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  280
  
  operation brings the Nova Cats into play as well, including a reference to a Nova 
  Cat vision of future cooperation with the Inner Sphere mercenaries. 
  DOUBLE-BLIND
  Loren L. Coleman, 1997
  BT Dates: 03/17/3058 to 08/27/3058
  Avanti’s Angels, a small mercenary company, 
  becomes embroiled in a Word of Blake Toyama faction 
  plot to provide advanced technology to the Marian 
  Hegemony for attacks against the Magistracy of 
  Canopus, an eff ort to stymie the growing Capellan 
  alliance with the Periphery realm. Demona Aziz, head 
  of the Toyama faction, is killed by Sun-Tzu Liao. Also 
  covered are the steps Sun-Tzu Liao takes to win over 
  the Magistracy as a new ally for his Confederation, and 
  the courting of Naomi Centrella.
  BINDING FORCE
  Loren L. Coleman, 1997
  BT Dates: 02/21/3058 to 08/09/3058
  The Capellan Confederation uses its Warrior House Hiritsu to invade and 
  capture Kaifeng, the breadbasket of the three-planet Sarna Supremacy, in an 
  eff ort to consolidate gains won in the invasion of the former Sarna March of the 
  Federated Commonwealth.
  EXODUS ROAD
  (TWILIGHT OF THE CLANS, VOL. I)
  Blaine Lee Pardoe, 1997
  BT Dates: 05/02/3052 to 11/15/3058
  This novel details eff orts by a Com Guard spy to 
  win over a disaff ected warrior of Clan Smoke Jaguar 
  named Trent, and determine the whereabouts of 
  the Clan homeworlds, particularly the Smoke Jaguar 
  capital of Huntress. ProtoMechs make their fi rst, brief 
  appearance. The fi rst several chapters, set in 3052, add 
  details to the Battle of Tukayyid.
  GRAVE COVENANT (TWILIGHT OF THE CLANS, VOL. II)
  Michael A. Stackpole, 1997
  BT Dates: 09/30/3058 to 09/01/3059
  In the wake of the Battle of Coventry, leaders 
  from across the Inner Sphere gather to conceive the 
  reformation of the Star League as part of a bold plan to 
  end the Clan threat once and for all. The fi rst Whitting 
  Conference sees the formation of the new Star League 
  and the planning for Operation Bulldog and Task Force 
  Serpent, both part of the Inner Sphere’s concentrated 
  eff ort to annihilate Clan Smoke Jaguar, to prove the 
  new League is real in the eyes of the Clans. Battles 
  on several Smoke Jaguar-held worlds, and the mass 
  defection of several Nova Cat units to the new Star 
  League after only token struggles, are also detailed as part of Operation Bulldog. 
  Victor Steiner-Davion departs the Inner Sphere after the fl eeing Jaguars.
  STAR LORD
  Donald Philips, 1996
  BT Dates: 04/01/3057 to 08/30/3057
  A crazed Blakist with a blood tie to Amaris the Usurper puts into motion plans 
  to attempt an overthrow of the entire Inner Sphere with the aid of Periphery 
  bandits, but is thwarted by an unlikely group of misfi ts backed up by the Knights 
  of the Inner Sphere.
  OPERATION EXCALIBUR
  William H. Keith, 1996
  BT Dates: 04/26/3057 to 01/03/3058
  Under a hiring ban after the events on Caledonia (Tactics of Duty), the Gray 
  Death are once more called into action to defend the vital world of Hesperus II 
  against a renegade general bent on carving his own fi efdom out of the Isle of 
  Skye.
  HEARTS OF CHAOS
  Victor Milán, 1996
  BT Dates: 12/24/3056 to 04/26/3058
  The Black Dragon Society launches an assault against the FedCom world of 
  Towne in an eff ort to spark war between the Combine and the FedCom. Camacho’s 
  Caballeros, a mercenary force hired by industrialist Chandrasekhar Kurita, is sent 
  in to thwart this invasion before it can succeed.
  MALICIOUS INTENT
  Michael A. Stackpole, 1996
  BT Dates: 12/11/3057 to 06/17/3058
  Vlad Ward assumes command of the surviving 
  Crusader Wolves after their narrow defeat by the 
  Falcons in the Refusal War. Striking an alliance with the 
  Falcons’ new Khan, Marthe Pryde, his Wolves and the 
  Falcons strike out to prove they are strong enough to 
  avoid Absorption. The Falcons strike as far as Coventry, 
  while the Wolves hit the Smoke Jaguars.
  BLACK DRAGON
  Victor Milán, 1996
  BT Dates: 06/10/3058 to 07/01/3058
  Camacho’s Caballeros thwart an attempt by the Black Dragon Society to 
  assassinate Coordinator Theodore Kurita as he recognizes his illegitimate son, 
  Franklin Sakamoto, in a public ceremony on Luthien.
  IMPETUS OF WAR
  Blaine Lee Pardoe, 1996
  BT Dates: 04/30/3058 to 09/09/3058
  The Northwind Highlanders undertake a mission for the Draconis Combine 
  after recovering from the events that followed the Marik-Liao invasion of the Sarna 
  March. The mission takes them into the Deep Periphery, to the Smoke Jaguar 
  supply world of Wayside V, in search of information on the Clan homeworlds. The 
  ,
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  281
  
  THREADS OF AMBITION (THE CAPELLAN SOLUTION, BOOK I)
  Loren L. Coleman, 1999
  BT Dates: 06/25/3060 to 06/13/3061
  The beginnings of the war to reclaim the St. Ives Compact are detailed here 
  when Sun-Tzu Liao uses his post as First Lord of the reborn Star League and a 
  staged attack against Isis Marik, his betrothed, as a means to instigate the 
  confl ict.
  THE KILLING FIELDS (THE CAPELLAN SOLUTION, BOOK II)
  Loren L. Coleman, 1999
  BT Dates: 02/25/3062 to 09/27/3062
  Sun-Tzu’s war with St. Ives culminates in the capture of the capital of the 
  Compact itself, which ultimately breaks the will of St. Ives. Also mentioned in 
  this novel are the use of Periphery troops from the Taurian Concordat and the 
  Magistracy of Canopus to secure Capellan positions, and the dismissal of Isis 
  Marik by Sun-Tzu.
  GHOST OF WINTER (MECHWARRIOR SERIES)
  Stephen Kenson, 1999
  BT Dates: 04/11/3060 to 05/02/3060
  A lost Steel Viper depot on Kore in the Periphery becomes the focus of a battle 
  between the infamous Ryan’s Rebels pirate band and the defenders of Kore.
  ROAR OF HONOR (MECHWARRIOR SERIES)
  Blaine Lee Pardoe, 1999
  BT Dates: 01/02/3062 to 06/25/3062
  A small Clan Ghost Bear unit on Toff en fi ghts off  an eff ort by Clan Wolf to claim 
  the world.
  BY BLOOD BETRAYED (MECHWARRIOR SERIES)
  Blaine Lee Pardoe & Mel Odom, 1999
  BT Dates: 01/15/3059 to 08/05/3059
  A new MechWarrior in Able’s Aces, a merc outfi t working for the Rim Collection, 
  takes on the Morrison’s Extractors pirate band while avenging the death of his 
  brother before him.
  DAGGER POINT
  Thomas Gressman, 2000
  BT Dates: 07/15/3061 to 03/22/3062
  The Eridani Light Horse is battered by a Capellan assault on Milos as Sun-Tzu 
  Liao’s war to reclaim the renegade St. Ives Compact continues.
  THE HUNTERS (TWILIGHT OF THE CLANS, VOL. III)
  Thomas Gressman, 1997
  BT Dates: 08/12/3058 to 01/03/3060
  Task Force Serpent undertakes the perilous trek 
  to strike at Clan Smoke Jaguar’s capital world of 
  Huntress. Morgan Hasek-Davion is murdered en 
  route, and the Task Force encounters pirates as well 
  as a Ghost Bear fleet.
  FREEBIRTH
  (TWILIGHT OF THE CLANS, VOL. IV) 
  Robert Thurston, 1998
  BT Dates: 06/18/3058 to 05/09/3059
  A freeborn warrior of Clan Jade Falcon is sent to the Jaguar homeworld of 
  Huntress on a mission for the Watch, to check on experiments in LAM technology 
  at the Falcon outpost there, but is captured by the Jaguars instead.
  SWORD AND FIRE (TWILIGHT OF THE CLANS, VOL. V)
  Thomas Gressman, 1998
  BT Dates: 01/03/3060 to 03/13/3060
  Task Force Serpent, now under the command of General Ariana Winston of 
  the Eridani Light Horse, arrives on Huntress and battles the Clan forces there to a 
  brutal victory, despite the unexpected surprise of the Jaguars’ new ProtoMechs.
  SHADOWS OF WAR (TWILIGHT OF THE CLANS, VOL. VI)
  Thomas Gressman, 1998
  BT Dates: 03/13/3060 to 04/09/3060
  Task Force Serpent sustains a second wave of fi ghting against the Smoke 
  Jaguars as the elements of the Clan who fl ed from Operation Bulldog arrive on 
  Huntress. Winston dies in the last of the fi ghting as Victor Steiner-Davion arrives 
  with relief forces.
  PRINCE OF HAVOC (TWILIGHT OF THE CLANS, VOL. VII)
  Michael A. Stackpole, 1998
  BT Dates: 04/09/3060 to 12/15/3061
  Victor Steiner-Davion leads the survivors of Task Force Serpent and his relief forces 
  to win the Great Refusal against the Crusader Clans, killing the Clans’ ilKhan Lincoln 
  Osis and with him the last of the Smoke Jaguars. Victor returns to fi nd his throne on 
  New Avalon usurped, and accepts the title of Precentor Martial of ComStar.
  FALCON RISING
  (TWILIGHT OF THE CLANS, VOL. VIII)
  Robert Thurston, 1999
  BT Dates: 12/31/3059 to 07/29/3061
  The Steel Vipers, in an attempt to drive the hated 
  Jade Falcon Clan from their shared occupation zone 
  in the Inner Sphere, are themselves expelled when 
  the Falcons hit back harder than expected. Star 
  Captain Diana, a freeborn, is allowed to win a Pryde 
  Bloodname.
  Bloodname.
  Bloodname.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  282
  
  CALL OF DUTY
  Blaine Lee Pardoe, 2001
  BT Dates: 02/03/3063 to 05/10/3063
  Rhonda Snord’s Irregulars face off  against Archer’s Avengers over the world of 
  Odessa, a stepping stone toward Tharkad in the FedCom Civil War.
  PATRIOTS AND TYRANTS
  Loren L. Coleman, 2001
  BT Dates: 12/25/3061 to 12/20/3063
  The FedCom Civil War begins with the apparent 
  assassination of Arthur Steiner-Davion. Also covered is 
  a brief confl ict with the Draconis Combine by Davion 
  units in the Draconis March and Victor’s triumph over 
  Adam Steiner after a near brush with death.
  OPERATION AUDACITY
  Blaine Lee Pardoe, 2002
  BT Dates: 05/23/3064 to 02/27/3065
  This FedCom Civil War book deals with eff orts by 
  Archer Christifori and General Adam Steiner to contain 
  the Jade Falcons after the Clan exploits the civil war by 
  striking at the Alliance. The operation seizes a series of 
  worlds inside the Falcon OZ.
  THE DYING TIME (MECHWARRIOR SERIES)
  Thomas Gressman, 2002
  BT Dates: 04/16/3065 to 08/25/3065
  The Gray Death Legion’s last mission, to save Hesperus II from falling out of 
  Lyran hands and under the sway of Free Skye, succeeds at a terrible cost, including 
  the lives of the famous merc unit’s original founding members.
  IMMINENT CRISIS (MECHWARRIOR SERIES) 
  Randall N. Bills, 2002
  BT Dates: 04/27/3065 to 05/24/3066
  Set against the backdrop of the FedCom Civil War, this novel details events 
  on New Syrtis involving the 8th Syrtis Fusiliers and the pull of both sides in the 
  confl ict.
  STORMS OF FATE
  Loren L. Coleman, 2002
  BT Dates: 03/06/3064 to 02/21/3065
  Omi Kurita is assassinated as Victor Steiner-Davion leads a rebellion against his 
  sister, Katherine. As the FedCom Civil War continues on, attacks on the Clan front 
  are also detailed as well as another Star League conference, where Victor again 
  thwarts Katherine’s eff orts to be elected First Lord.
  ILLUSIONS OF VICTORY
  Loren L. Coleman, 2000
  BT Dates: 08/10/3062 to 08/31/3062
  Sparked by a rivalry taken too far, ‘Mech-scale riots break out on Solaris VII as a 
  result of rising tensions between Steiner and Davion loyalists, aggravated by the 
  machinations of some of Solaris City’s elite stable masters.
  PATH OF GLORY
  Randall N. Bills, 2000
  BT Dates: 06/12/3061 to 12/20/3062
  Clan Nova Cat attempts to integrate with House Kurita after being Abjured 
  (exiled) from the Clans. The start of the Ghost Bear/Draconis Combine War in 3062 
  is dealt with.
  MEASURE OF A HERO
  Blaine Lee Pardoe, 2000
  BT Dates: 10/23/3062 to 02/09/3063
  Archer Christifori leads the Thorin Planetary Militia against the 15th Arcturan 
  Guards in this fl ashpoint battle of the FedCom Civil War, crippling the Guards on 
  both Thorin and Muphrid as Victor Steiner-Davion makes his call to arms.
  INITIATION TO WAR (MECHWARRIOR SERIES)
  Robert N. Charrette, 2001
  BT Dates: 11/26/3061 to 05/06/3062
  A young militia MechWarrior becomes embroiled in the internal politics of 
  Epsilon Eridani, one of many worlds torn asunder in the Chaos March.
  FLASHPOINT
  Loren L. Coleman, 2001
  BT Dates: 10/08/3062 to 12/10/3062
  One of the fi rst battles of the FedCom Civil War 
  erupts when the planetary militia on Kathil and the 8th 
  FedCom RCT come into confl ict as each unit proclaims 
  its authority over the defense of the vital Federated 
  Suns world and its strategically valuable shipyards. The 
  Kathil CMM wins the day. 
  TEST OF VENGEANCE
  Bryan Nystul, 2001
  BT Dates: 10/19/3062 to 08/12/3064
  The Ghost Bear/Draconis Combine War and the Hell’s Horses invasion of the 
  Ghost Bear Dominion are described through the point of view of a Ghost Bear 
  Elemental ristar. Hell’s Horses Khan Malavai Fletcher is deposed.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  283
  
  SERVICE FOR THE DEAD (PROVING GROUNDS TRILOGY, VOL. III)
  Martin Delrio, 2003
  BT Dates: Feb 3134 to May 3134
  Tara Campbell chases Ezekiel Crow to Terra to face him once and for all for his 
  betrayal of her, Northwind and the Republic. Anastasia Kerensky leads the Steel 
  Wolves in a daring attack on Terra.
  BY TEMPTATIONS AND BY WAR
  Loren L. Coleman, 2003
  BT Dates: 08/11/3132 to 09/23/3134
  The Capellan Confederation enters the Dark Age 
  storyline as Chancellor Daoshen Liao plots to regain 
  worlds lost to the Republic. The infamous Black Paladin 
  off ers his help against the local insurgency.
  FORTRESS OF LIES
  J. Steven York, 2004
  BT Dates: 09/01/3134 to 12/25/3134
  Aaron Sandoval, Lord Governor of Prefecture III, plots 
  to build his power base in the crumbling Republic. He 
  sends his nephew Erik to negotiate with the leaders of 
  planets in the path of House Liao’s invasion.
  PATRIOT’S STAND
  Mike Moscoe, 2004
  BT Dates: 04/03/3134 to 09/02/3134
  A mercenary force raids the sleepy world of Alkalurops, prompting the locals to 
  send a delegation to Galatea to hire some defenders. The ragtag group of warriors 
  that results must turn a bunch of farmers and citizens into a fi ghting force when 
  Hansen’s Roughriders return.
  FLIGHT OF THE FALCON
  Victor Milán, 2004
  BT Dates: 03/04/3134 to 08/21/3134
  Eager to carve out a piece of the Republic for themselves, the Jade Falcons 
  descend from their territory under the command of Malvina Hazen and her 
  brother Aleksandr. Countess Tara Campbell helps coordinate the defense when 
  the Falcon invasion targets Skye.
  BLOOD OF THE ISLE
  Loren L. Coleman, 2004
  BT Dates: 09/08/3134 to 12/23/3134
  When the Falcons return to Skye, Tara Campbell seeks allies with some unlikely 
  factions: Anastasia Kerensky’s Steel Wolves and the Lyran Commonwealth. 
  Despite the defenses arrayed against them, Malvina Hazen and the Jade Falcons 
  seize Skye.
  ENDGAME
  Loren L. Coleman, 2002
  BT Dates: 06/26/3065 to 04/24/3067
  Shaking off  the blow to his resolve created by Omi 
  Kurita’s murder, Victor leads his loyal forces to a fi nal 
  victory against Katherine on New Avalon, ending the 
  FedCom Civil War.
  GHOST WAR
  Michael A. Stackpole, 2002
  BT Dates: 11/13/3132 to 03/02/3133
  Beginning a new storyline in the aftermath of the HPG network crash, Ghost 
  Knight Mason Dunne investigates who is using the chaos to seize power on Basalt 
  as the readers are introduced to the new status quo.
  A CALL TO ARMS
  Loren L. Coleman, 2003
  BT Dates: 10/26/3130 to 03/19/3133
  Achernar possesses one of the few working HPG stations left in the Republic, and 
  the Steel Wolves have come to claim it. Raul Ortega of the local militia joins forces 
  with the mysterious Tassa Kay and the Swordsworn to save his homeworld.
  THE RUINS OF POWER
  Robert Vardeman, 2003
  BT Dates: 04/03/3133 to 05/12/3133
  Baron Ortega of Mirach fought alongside Devlin Stone in the Jihad but now 
  dedicates his life to peace. His son Austin gets caught up in the fi ght when a 
  rebellion breaks out.
  A SILENCE IN THE HEAVENS (PROVING GROUNDS TRILOGY, VOL. I)
  Martin Delrio, 2003
  BT Dates: Nov 3132 to Jun 3133
  Countess Tara Campbell and Paladin Ezekiel Crow defend the world of 
  Northwind against the invasion of the Steel Wolves, led by Anastasia Kerensky.
  TRUTH AND SHADOWS (PROVING GROUNDS TRILOGY, VOL. II)
  Martin Delrio, 2003
  BT Dates: Nov 3133 to Feb 3134
  The Steel Wolves make another attempt on Northwind. Jacob Bannson 
  blackmails Paladin Ezekiel Crow with a devastating secret. Tara Campbell defeats 
  Anastasia Kerensky again but she escapes.
  THE LEGEND OF THE JADE PHOENIX TRILOGY
  Robert Thurston, 2003
  An omnibus reprint edition of the three Legend of the Jade Phoenix novels: 
  Way of the Clans, Bloodname and Falcon Guard.
  (
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  284
  
  FORTRESS REPUBLIC
  Loren L. Coleman, 2005
  BT Dates: 06/09/3135 to 10/12/3135
  The Senate rebellion continues to grow as Exarch 
  Jonah Levin searches for a way to save the Republic. 
  Julian Davion leads a multi-national force in defense 
  of the Republic as his cousin Caleb takes control of the 
  Federated Suns.
  BLOOD AVATAR
  Ilsa J. Bick, 2005
  BT Dates: 12/09/3135 to 04/21/3136
  A murder mystery on Denebola exposes small town secrets and a conspiracy 
  dating back to the Jihad. A mysterious organization known as the Triumvirate 
  makes an appearance with a hidden agenda.
  TRIAL BY CHAOS
  J. Steven York, 2006
  BT Dates: 11/21/3136 to 12/27/3136
  When the Republic descends into chaos, the Rasalhague Dominion sends 
  troops to keep the peace on Vega. In addition to outside factions infl uencing 
  events, the Ghost Bears must confront a revolutionary movement within their 
  own ranks.
  PRINCIPLES OF DESOLATION
  Randall N. Bills and Jason M. Hardy, 2006
  BT Dates: 05/09/3135 to 03/01/3137
  Danai Centrella-Liao leads a Capellan off ensive into the Republic before being 
  called upon by Chancellor Daoshen to undertake a diplomatic mission to the 
  court at Oriente. There she forms a friendship with Nikol Marik and comes to 
  terms with events in her past.
  WOLF HUNTERS
  Kevin Killiany, 2006
  BT Dates: 05/27/3135 to 10/22/3136
  Anastasia Kerensky disbands the Steel Wolves and forges the best of her 
  warriors into a new force: the Wolf Hunters. Those who didn’t make the cut pursue 
  diff erent destinies, including mercenary life and the Solaris game circuit.
  SURRENDER YOUR DREAMS
  Blaine Lee Pardoe, 2006
  BT Dates: 03/27/3135 to 03/31/3138
  Told in a unique style, this novel details actions by former Exarch Damien 
  Redburn and a select cadre of Knights, who fi ght to protect the Republic in the 
  days and months after Fortress Republic is declared. Introduces the Fidelis, a 
  secret society of special-forces troops loyal to Devlin Stone.
  HUNTERS OF THE DEEP
  Randall N. Bills, 2004
  BT Dates: 06/19/3134 to 11/01/3134
  OvKhan Petr Kalasa discovers a plot to seize the leadership of Clan Sea Fox and 
  faces off  against his worst enemy. The Marik-Stewart Commonwealth invades the 
  Republic with the goal of securing the world of Stewart.
  THE SCORPION JAR
  Jason M. Hardy, 2004
  BT Dates: 10/01/3134 to 01/02/3135
  When he discovers a secret plot to subvert the Republic from the inside, Victor 
  Steiner-Davion is murdered before he can blow the whistle. Paladins Jonah Levin 
  and Heather GioAvanti investigate his murder amidst growing unrest and the 
  election of the next Exarch.
  TARGET OF OPPORTUNITY
  Blaine Lee Pardoe, 2005
  BT Dates: 01/26/3135 to 08/23/3135
  The HPG network has been down for over two years 
  and ComStar is no closer to a solution. Tucker Harwell is 
  a genius in hyperspace mechanics and is sent to repair 
  the HPG on Wyatt, protected by the Knight Alexi Holt. 
  The Spirit Cats and the Marik-Stewart Commonwealth 
  both try to seize Wyatt and Harwell.
  SWORD OF SEDITION
  Loren L. Coleman, 2005
  BT Dates: 12/17/3134 to 06/02/3135
  Victor Steiner-Davion’s funeral brings the leadership of the Inner Sphere to 
  Terra. Newly elected Exarch Jonah Levin and his Paladins must deal with the 
  Senatorial rebellion and the continuing invasion of the Republic by other realms 
  while Julian Davion forges an alliance among a new generation of leaders.
  DAUGHTER OF THE DRAGON
  Ilsa J. Bick, 2005
  BT Dates: 02/14/3134 to 02/15/3136
  The Draconis Combine invades the Republic and the Dragon’s Fury are in their 
  way. Katana Tormark must navigate treacherous alliances with the Yakuza and 
  Clan Nova Cat to save her people and prove her worth to the Dragon. 
  HERETIC’S FAITH
  Randall N. Bills, 2005
  BT Dates: 11/05/3135 to 02/09/3137
  Clan Nova Cat joins the Combine’s invasion of the Republic, bringing them into 
  confl ict with the Spirit Cats and their leader, Kev Rosse. Nova Cat Mystic Kisho is 
  drawn into the confl ict and struggles with his own doubts about his destiny.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  285
  
  TO RIDE THE CHIMERA
  Kevin Killiany, 2008
  BT Dates: 08/23/3137 to 06/03/3139
  Jessica Marik and her allies fi ght to revive the Free Worlds League against the 
  Lyran/Wolf invasion and opposition from within.
  BATTLECORPS ANTHOLOGY, VOL. I: THE CORPS
  Edited by Loren L. Coleman, 2008
  A collection of short stories from the fi rst year of the 
  BattleCorps website, produced by some of the most 
  popular authors old and new. Included is a brand-new 
  story about a young Aleksandr Kerensky in his fi rst 
  days as a Star League soldier.
  WWW.BATTLECORPS.COM
  Launched 2004
  BattleCorps.com is a subscription-based website for online, canon fi ction set 
  in the BattleTech universe. From short stories to novellas, serials to entire novels, 
  more than a million words of fi ction have been published.
  RULEBOOKS (BOX SETS)
  BATTLEDROIDS
  1984
  Basic rulebook for what is today known as BattleTech. Includes all basic 
  movement, combat, and construction rules for BattleMechs known today, as well 
  as a historical overview of the Inner Sphere.
  BATTLETECH, 2ND EDITION
  1985
  Expanded basic rules in a boxed set including cardboard counters and maps.
  MECHWARRIOR, THE BATTLETECH ROLE-PLAYING GAME
  1986
  First edition rules for the MechWarrior RPG 
  system. Outlines rules for point-based character 
  creation, role-playing and combat. Expands on the 
  BattleTech universe history and provides details on 
  several House-specifi c ‘Mech designs.
  CITYTECH
  1986
  BattleTech rules expansion, covering urban 
  combat. A boxed set with maps, counters and new 
  ‘Mech designs.
  AEROTECH
  1986
  BattleTech rules expansion covering aerospace 
  fi ghters and DropShips in combat, as well as the 
  rare Land-Air-’Mechs (LAMs). A boxed set with 
  maps, counters and aerospace fi ghter designs.
  BATTLETECH MANUAL: THE RULES OF 
  WARFARE
  1987
  A compilation and revision of all BattleTech rules 
  published to date.
  DRAGON RISING
  Ilsa J. Bick, 2007
  BT Dates: 06/13/3136 to 05/16/3137
  Katana Tormark is now Warlord of Dieron and commands the Combine’s 
  invasion of the Republic. A conspiracy among the ISF and others plots to take out 
  Tormark and the ruling Kuritas.
  MASTERS OF WAR
  Michael A. Stackpole, 2007
  BT Dates: 10/22/3136 to 03/20/3137
  Clan Wolf allies with the Lyran Commonwealth to 
  attack the former states of the Free Worlds League. 
  Alaric Wolf leads a diversionary force against the 
  Republic while the Clan’s population relocates to the 
  Commonwealth/League border. Anastasia Kerensky 
  directs the defense of the Republic and fi ghts Alaric 
  on physical and psychological levels.
  A RENDING OF FALCONS
  Victor Milán, 2007
  BT Dates: 08/03/3135 to 04/04/3136
  Not content with commanding the Jade Falcon presence in the Republic, 
  Malvina Hazen challenges the Falcon Khan and a civil war erupts. 
  PANDORA’S GAMBIT
  Randall N. Bills, 2007
  BT Dates: 02/04/3135 to 08/20/3137
  Captain-General Jessica Marik of the Oriente Protectorate decides it is her 
  destiny to rebuild the shattered Free Worlds League. Her children seek out allies 
  and opportunities, including the Spirit Cats and Clan Sea Fox. The planet Marik 
  falls to a combined assault.
  FIRE AT WILL
  Blaine Lee Pardoe, 2007
  BT Dates: March 3136 to 03/30/3138
  The Lyran invasion of the former Free Worlds League begins with a massive 
  assault against the Duchy of Tamarind. The forces of Clan Wolf compete with 
  the Commonwealth forces to gain territory. Roderick Frost comes to accept his 
  heritage.
  THE LAST CHARGE
  Jason M. Hardy, 2007
  BT Dates: 02/13/3138 to 06/13/3138
  The Marik-Stewart Commonwealth is under assault from all sides and Captain-
  General Anson Marik decides to make his last stand on the planet Stewart. Clan 
  Wolf and the Lyran Commonwealth race to seize the planet and defeat Anson.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  286
  
  BATTLETECH COMPENDIUM:
  THE RULES OF WARFARE
  1994
  A revised compilation of all BattleTech rules 
  published to date, covering all aspects of BattleTech 
  combat, but downplaying aerospace fi ghter rules 
  to emphasize their role as support elements for the 
  ground battle.
  BATTLETECH TACTICAL HANDBOOK
  1994
  Designed to give comprehensive rules for larger-
  scale campaigns and the detailed running of military operations using BattleTech 
  units. Rules covering everything from battlefi eld repair and scavenging, logistical 
  operations, maintaining manpower and coordinating various aspects of BattleTech 
  combat are featured, as well as several experimental weapons devised by the 
  various factions of the Inner Sphere and Clans.
  MECHWARRIOR COMPANION
  1995
  A rules expansion for MechWarrior, Second Edition, this book features expanded 
  rules for skill use, new character skill packages, advantages, expanded rules for 
  personal combat involving heavy combat units such as ‘Mechs and vehicles, 
  environmental rules, creature rules and new equipment.
  BATTLETECH, 4TH EDITION
  1996 
  Expanded basic rules covering Level 1 (3025 and earlier-era tech) and Level 
  2 (Star League, post-3050 and Clan tech) equipment. Released in a boxed set 
  including cardboard counters of several Inner Sphere and Clan designs as well 
  as maps.
  MAXIMUM TECH
  1997 (original), 1999 (revised) 
  Expanded rules—many classifi ed as Level 3 (optional and illegal for tournament 
  play)—are added to BattleTech in this product. Among the features are new 
  equipment, special weather and terrain rules compiled from previous scenario 
  packs, new repair and scavenging rules, expanded vehicle rules, the new Battle 
  Value system and a listing of all published stock units with their BVs calculated.
  BATTLEFORCE 2
  1998
  A boxed set that updates the original edition large-scale combat game, 
  BattleForce 2 is a complete ground-up revision with various scales of combat from 
  company-on-company tactical rules to planet-wide campaign rules. Maps and 
  counters are included.
  BATTLETECH MASTER RULES
  1998 (original), 2001 (revised)
  A revised compilation of all BattleTech rules published to date, with the exception 
  of aerospace fi ghters, covering all Level 1 and Level 2 rules for BattleTech combat, 
  and incorporating new equipment that surfaced in the Field Manuals (up to their 
  print date).
  MECHWARRIOR, THIRD EDITION
  1999
  A completely reworked version of the MechWarrior role-playing game, featuring 
  a gloss-over history and overview of the Inner Sphere and Clans and an organic 
  life path character generation system.
  BATTLEFORCE
  1989
  First edition rules for large-scale combat 
  operations for BattleTech. Designed to make it 
  possible to conduct larger battles in the same 
  amount of time one might play out a standard one-
  on-one game.
  BATTLETROOPS
  1989
  Rules for conducting infantry-level actions in 
  BattleTech, rather than resorting to MechWarrior 
  RPG rules. The combat system is more akin to a 
  BattleTech game than the role-playing aspect, 
  based mainly on action points.
  THE BATTLETECH COMPENDIUM
  1990
  A compilation and revision of all BattleTech rules published to date, including 
  the introduction of Star League weapons and Clan equipment, OmniMech 
  construction rules, aerospace fi ghter and vehicular construction and combat 
  rules.
  MECHWARRIOR, SECOND EDITION
  1991
  Second edition rules for the MechWarrior RPG system; revises rules for point-
  based character creation, role-playing, and combat with greater fl exibility than the 
  fi rst edition and incorporates the Clans. Summations of the BattleTech universe’s 
  history, military basics, key faction run-downs and the like are provided.
  CLANTROOPS
  1991
  An expansion for BattleTroops, ClanTroops adds battle armor to the standard 
  BattleTroops rules and provides additional rules to give the original game system 
  more fl exibility.
  BATTLETECH, 3RD EDITION
  1992 (re-released 1994) 
  Expanded basic rules, including Level 1 (3025 and earlier-era tech) and Level 2 
  (Star League, post-3050 and Clan tech) equipment rules. Released in a boxed set 
  including plastic miniatures of several Inner Sphere designs as well as maps.
  BATTLESPACE
  1993
  This boxed set revises and replaces AeroTech with 
  new rules, maps, counters and stats for everything 
  from aerospace fi ghters and conventional aircraft 
  to DropShips, JumpShips, and WarShips in the Clan 
  and Inner Sphere aerospace navies. Scenarios and 
  overviews of naval history are also included for 
  reference and game play.
  CITYTECH, 2ND EDITION
  1994 
  Expanded urban rules, including Level 1 (3025 
  and earlier-era tech) and Level 2 (Star League, post-3050 and Clan tech) equipment 
  rules, plus vehicles. Released in a boxed set including plastic miniatures of several 
  Inner Sphere and Clan designs as well as maps.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  287
  
  CLASSIC BATTLETECH MASTER RULES (REVISED)
  2004
  An updated edition of the Classic BattleTech Master Rules book. Includes 
  complete game rules, a system for generating scenarios and expanded miniatures 
  rules. This book incorporates all Level 2 weapons and equipment from various 
  earlier sourcebooks.
  MAXIMUM TECH, REVISED
  2005
  This updated edition of the expansion rule 
  book for Classic BattleTech incorporates Level 3 
  equipment, weapons and rules. It has been revised 
  to include the units from Technical Readout: 3060. 
  (This is a FanPro printing of the FASA book.)
  COMBAT EQUIPMENT
  2005
  An expansion for Classic BattleTech and the Classic 
  BattleTech RPG that provides new equipment and 
  construction rules for personal weapons and support vehicles. Also includes a 
  Technical Readout section containing fourteen new battle armor designs and 
  eight new ProtoMechs.
  TOTAL WARFARE
  2006
  First in a new line of Core Rulebooks. This is 
  the standard BattleTech rule set, incorporating 
  expansions and updates to previous books 
  and functioning as a complete reference for 
  standard tournament-level play. Includes rules for 
  BattleMechs, ProtoMechs, combat vehicles, support 
  vehicles, infantry (battle armored and conventional), 
  aerospace fi ghters and DropShips.
  CLASSIC BATTLETECH RPG
  2007
  Reprints MechWarrior,Third Edition.
  CLASSIC BATTLETECH
  INTRODUCTORY BOX SET
  2007
  Everything needed to start playing Classic 
  BattleTech in one box. Includes quick-start rules, 
  record sheets, complete rulebook, background on 
  the fi ctional universe, map sheets, a map of the 
  Inner Sphere in 3067 and a painting and tactics 
  guide. Also included are 24 plastic BattleMech 
  miniatures that can be painted or used as-is.
  TECHMANUAL
  2007
  The second Core Rulebook. This book provides 
  construction rules for all unit types found in Total 
  Warfare. Included are blank record sheets and 
  information on all tournament-legal weapons and 
  equipment.
  A MECHWARRIOR’S GUIDE TO SOLARIS VII
  1999
  An expansion to the core rules for the MechWarrior RPG focused on the Game 
  World of Solaris VII, with new features for the game as well as a history and 
  backdrop of Solaris VII. Also featured are expanded rules for using BattleMechs 
  and vehicles in MechWarrior combat and an adventure set on Solaris VII.
  AEROTECH 2
  2000
  Updated rules for aerospace and space naval warfare in the BattleTech 
  universe appear in this book, replacing BattleSpace. AeroTech 2 also includes a 
  set of AeroTech counters for game play. Focused mainly on aerospace as ground 
  support, the book also features expansion rules for MechWarrior, Third Edition; 
  random aerospace tables; and BV formulas for fi ghters and spacecraft used by 
  the Inner Sphere, Periphery and Clans.
  LOSTECH: THE MECHWARRIOR’S EQUIPMENT GUIDE
  2000
  An expansion to MechWarrior, Third Edition focused on all the cool toys player 
  characters can use. This book also features some expansions on the basic 
  MechWarrior rules for character generation and combat.
  A MECHWARRIOR’S GUIDE TO THE CLANS
  2000
  An expansion to the core rules for the MechWarrior RPG focused on the Clans, 
  with new game features as well as a history and backdrop of the Clans overall. 
  Also featured is an adventure set on Strana Mechty, the capital world of all Clans.
  CLASSIC BATTLETECH COMPANION
  2003
  A rules expansion for the Classic BattleTech RPG, this book features additional 
  Life Paths, a point-based character creation system, and expanded rules for skills 
  and traits, combat, creature creation and battle armor construction.
  CLASSIC BATTLETECH BOX SET
  2003
  Basic rule set for playing Classic BattleTech. Box includes complete rulebook, 
  record sheets, quick-start rules, map sheets and a map of the Inner Sphere in 
  3067. Players can use the included counters to operate any one of twenty-four 
  ‘Mechs on the battlefi eld.
  CLASSIC BATTLETECH MINIATURES RULES
  2003
  A complete rule set for playing Classic BattleTech using miniatures and 3D 
  terrain. Also includes a section detailing the brand-new Dark Age setting.
  COMBAT OPERATIONS
  2003
  A rules expansion that brings strategic operations 
  to BattleTech, including expanded AeroTech 2 rules, 
  infantry platoon creation, faction force tables and the 
  Inner Sphere in Flames strategic game. Also included 
  are expanded rules for the creation, running and 
  play of any type of military force.
  AEROTECH 2, REVISED
  2004
  This companion to the BattleTech Master Rules 
  contains background and rules for aerospace operations and incorporating such 
  actions into the ground-based game. Includes construction rules and complete 
  stats for all previously published fi ghters.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  288
  
  HOUSE LIAO (THE CAPELLAN CONFEDERATION)
  1987
  Complete overview of the history, culture, important people and places of the 
  Capellan Confederation as of 3025, with an emphasis on the ruling House Liao, as 
  told through the eyes of ComStar. Also included are deployments of the Capellan 
  military at that time.
  DROPSHIPS AND JUMPSHIPS
  1988
  Complete overview of the naval aspect of 
  BattleTech history, with campaign rules and new 
  equipment for use in BattleTech or MechWarrior, First 
  Edition campaigns around the 3025 era. Statistical 
  info provided for all the most common civilian and 
  military spacecraft, from shuttles to JumpShips, 
  used in that era.
  HOUSE DAVION (THE FEDERATED SUNS)
  1988
  Complete overview of the history, culture, important people and places of the 
  Federated Suns as of 3025, with an emphasis on the ruling House Davion, as told 
  through the eyes of ComStar. Also included are deployments of the Federated 
  Suns military at that time.
  HOUSE MARIK (THE FREE WORLDS LEAGUE)
  1988
  Complete overview of the history, culture, important people and places of the 
  Free Worlds League as of 3025, with an emphasis on the ruling House Marik, as 
  told through the eyes of ComStar. Also included are deployments of the Free 
  Worlds League military at that time.
  THE PERIPHERY (1ST EDITION)
  1988
  Complete overview of the histories, cultures, important people and places of 
  the near Periphery realms and bandit kingdoms active in the 3025 era, as reviewed 
  through the eyes of ComStar.
  THE STAR LEAGUE
  1988
  Complete overview of the history, culture, 
  important people and places of the Star League as 
  of 3025, including its fate after Stefan Amaris’ Coup 
  and the collapse of the League into anarchy, as told 
  through the eyes of ComStar. Also included is an 
  atlas of its many key worlds.
  TACTICAL OPERATIONS
  2008
  The third Core Rulebook. Adds optional rules for Total Warfare combat, 
  including movement, planetary conditions, buildings and advanced support 
  vehicle construction. Provides a plethora of advanced weapons and equipment 
  for use in construction of new units.
  STRATEGIC OPERATIONS
  2009
  The fourth Core Rulebook. Contains advanced 
  rules for aerospace operations as well as repair, 
  salvage and customization of battlefi eld units. This 
  rule book also presents BattleForce, a system that 
  allows players to use their existing miniatures and 
  mapsheets to play fast games incorporating forces 
  both large and small.
  A TIME OF WAR: THE BATTLETECH RPG
  2009
  The fi fth Core Rulebook. An overhauled and expanded version of the MechWarrior 
  role-playing game, A Time of War includes rules completely compatible with the 
  BattleTech board game, allowing for a seamless transition between a role-playing 
  session and a board game session. 
  BATTLETECH INTRODUCTORY BOX SET
  2009
  The 25th anniversary edition of the box set 
  released in 2007, the BattleTech Introductory Box 
  Set upgrades the paper maps to deluxe, board 
  game-style maps, while including four high-quality 
  miniatures in addition to the 24 ready-to-play-play 
  plastic miniatures.
  SOURCEBOOKS
  THE MERCENARY’S HANDBOOK
  1987
  Outlines rules for generating and running mercenary units in the BattleTech 
  universe of 3025. Contains histories and full rosters on selected mercenary units, 
  such as the Waco Rangers, Wilson’s Hussars and the Eridani Light Horse.
  HOUSE KURITA (THE DRACONIS COMBINE)
  1987
  Complete overview of the history, culture, important people and places of the 
  Draconis Combine as of 3025, with an emphasis on the ruling House Kurita, as 
  told through the eyes of ComStar. Also included are deployments of the Combine 
  military at that time.
  HOUSE STEINER (THE LYRAN COMMONWEALTH)
  1987
  Complete overview of the history, culture, important people and places of the 
  Lyran Commonwealth as of 3025, with an emphasis on the ruling House Steiner, 
  as told through the eyes of ComStar. Also included are deployments of the Lyran 
  military at that time.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  289
  
  OBJECTIVE RAIDS
  1992
  A resource largely for gamemasters, describing in 
  detail several worlds throughout the Inner Sphere 
  and Clan-held territory as of 3054. Deployments 
  of all known factions in the Inner Sphere and Near 
  Periphery, plus the locations of major military 
  industries, are given, along with maps of each 
  faction’s borders and member worlds.
  SOLARIS: THE REACHES
  1993
  An expansion for the Solaris VII boxed set, this 
  sourcebook delves into the Game World’s seedier side, 
  particularly focusing on the area surrounding Solaris 
  City, where lesser stables and arenas are located. 
  Expanded rules for detailed ‘Mech damage, new arena 
  maps, and three new ‘Mechs are introduced.
  MERCENARY’S HANDBOOK: 3055
  1993
  Updated rules for generating and running mercenary units in the BattleTech 
  universe of 3055. Histories and rosters on selected mercenary units, such as Wolf’s 
  Dragoons, the Kell Hounds and the Black Thorns, are presented.
  INTELLIGENCE OPERATIONS HANDBOOK
  1993
  An overview of the intelligence agencies of the fi ve Great Houses, the Clans and 
  ComStar/Word of Blake, told through the eyes of WolfNet, the Wolf’s Dragoons 
  intelligence service. This book also presents a few additional rules for character 
  generation, role-playing and personal gear used in the MechWarrior, Second 
  Edition RPG.
  HOT SPOTS
  1993
  This two-book set is intended for gamemasters and players of a mercenary 
  BattleTech/MechWarrior campaign and includes contracts and behind-the-scenes 
  information on a variety of missions across the Inner Sphere and Periphery, circa 
  3055. Random lance generation tables are featured.
  INVADING CLANS
  1994
  Told through the eyes of ComStar, this sourcebook 
  covers the remaining invading Clans (Ghost Bear, 
  Steel Viper, Nova Cat, Smoke Jaguar and Diamond 
  Shark) with a gloss-over history and profi le of each 
  Clan, and planet-by-planet accounts of each of their 
  invasions of the Inner Sphere from 3048-3052. A 
  listing of each Clan’s TO&E and a few new ‘Mechs 
  appear as well.
  WOLF’S DRAGOONS
  1989
  A detailed history of the Wolf’s Dragoons mercenary unit from its fi rst appearance 
  in the Inner Sphere in 3005 through the Dragoons’ actions on the Combine border 
  in the Fourth Succession War, as told through the eyes of ComStar. Information 
  on unit strength as of 3030, as well as new ’Mechs and vehicles specifi c to the 
  Dragoons, is included.
  BATTLETECH 20 YEAR UPDATE
  1989
  Accelerating the history of the BattleTech universe 
  to 3050 with a widespread update on all factions, 
  great and small, the 20-Year Update covers every 
  confl ict and important fi gure who carried the 
  universe from the Fourth Succession War to the days 
  before the Clan invasion.
  WOLF CLAN SOURCEBOOK
  1991
  An overview of the Wolf Clan, told through the 
  eyes of ComStar, including a review of the history 
  of all Clans, the Wolves’ development in particular, 
  and a planet-by-planet account of the Wolf Clan’s 
  invasion of the Inner Sphere from 3048-3052. A 
  listing of the Clan’s TO&E and three new OmniMechs 
  are included.
  SOLARIS VII (BOX SET)
  1991
  An overview of the Game World of Solaris VII, including Game Master and 
  Player handbooks, for role-playing or BattleTech campaigning on Solaris. Special 
  dueling rules and maps for the main Solaris City arenas are also included, along 
  with information and record sheets on several Solaris-specifi c ‘Mechs.
  JADE FALCON SOURCEBOOK
  1992
  An overview of the Jade Falcon Clan, told through the eyes of ComStar, including 
  a gloss-over of the history of all Clans, the Falcons’ development in particular, and 
  a planet-by-planet account of the Falcon Clan’s invasion of the Inner Sphere from 
  3048-3052. A listing of the Clan’s TO&E and a few new second-line ‘Mechs are 
  included.
  COMSTAR
  1992
  Complete overview of the history and important people who shaped and 
  guided the mystical Order known as ComStar as of 3055, told in their own words 
  with editorial remarks by the Word of Blake breakaway group. Three new ComStar/
  WoB ‘Mechs and a few character archetypes are included.
  appear as well.
  appear as well.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  290
  
  FIELD MANUAL: MERCENARIES
  1997
  A revision and update on the overall state of mercenaries across the Inner Sphere 
  as of late 3059, including color schemes and deployment of the most famous 
  units. Also presented are special unit rules; random ‘Mech tables; MechWarrior, 
  Second Edition expansions; and new rules for creating, maintaining and running a 
  merc unit that replace those in Mercenary’s Handbook: 3055.
  FIELD MANUAL: CRUSADER CLANS
  1998
  An overview of the history and overall state of 
  the seven Crusader Clans with a particular emphasis 
  on their military forces and component Galaxies up 
  to the end of 3059, including color schemes and 
  deployment of each Clan’s touman. Also presented 
  are special unit rules, random ‘Mech tables, and 
  new military equipment produced by several of the 
  Crusader Clans.
  FIELD MANUAL: WARDEN CLANS
  1998 
  An overview of the history and overall state of the seven Warden Clans (and Clan 
  Wolf-in-Exile) with a particular emphasis on their military forces and component 
  Galaxies up to the beginning of 3061, including color schemes and deployment 
  of each Clan’s touman. Also presented are special unit rules, random ‘Mech tables, 
  and new military equipment produced by several of the Warden Clans.
  FIELD MANUAL: COMSTAR
  1999 
  An overview of the history and state of ComStar, the Word of Blake, the Free 
  Rasalhague Republic, the new Star League Defense Force and Clan Nova Cat, with 
  particular emphasis on their military forces up to the beginning of 3062, including 
  color schemes and deployment of each featured unit. Also presented are special 
  unit rules, random ‘Mech tables and new military equipment produced by several 
  of the selected factions.
  THE CLANS: WARRIORS OF KERENSKY
  1999
  A pure sourcebook that overviews the history, culture, sociopolitical condition, 
  and state of aff airs of all the current Clans as of 3062, told through the eyes of 
  Phelan Kell of Clan Wolf-in-Exile. No new rules or equipment are featured in this 
  book, though an atlas of major Clan homeworlds is given at the end.
  SHATTERED SPHERE
  1999
  A miniature update on the state of all major and minor players in the Inner 
  Sphere and Near Periphery, including ComStar and Word of Blake, are detailed in 
  this book, covering events from the Twilight of the Clans to the fi rst overtures of 
  the FedCom Civil War.
  CHAOS MARCH
  1995
  This book gives the history leading up to and the aftermath of the Marik-Liao 
  invasion and secession of the Lyran Alliance from the Federated Commonwealth 
  in late 3057. Minor powers and independent worlds that rise up in the turbulent 
  region formerly known as the FedCom’s Sarna March are introduced and described. 
  A few new conventional vehicles, expanded rules for repairing and scavenging, 
  plus several pieces of MechWarrior, Second Edition equipment are included.
  EXPLORER CORPS
  1996
  A history of the ComStar Explorer Corps as well as 
  campaign rules for Explorer Corps-based missions 
  are detailed in this book. Also included are several 
  expansions on BattleSpace and MechWarrior, Second 
  Edition rules, rules for creating and detailing star 
  systems, and low-tech ‘Mech rules for BattleTech.
  THE PERIPHERY (2ND EDITION)
  1996
  This update on the status of the Periphery since 3025 overviews the major 
  powers of the Near Periphery from the Magistracy of Canopus to the Rim 
  Collection, as well as a host of minor realms and independent worlds as they 
  stand in 3058, as told through ComStar’s eyes. Force deployments of the various 
  realms, hooks for MechWarrior campaigns, and stats for new vehicles and a ‘Mech 
  are also included.
  FIELD MANUAL: DRACONIS COMBINE
  1996
  A revision and update on the overall state of the 
  Draconis Combine with a particular emphasis on its 
  military and its component regiments up to the start 
  of 3059, including color schemes and deployment 
  of the DCMS. Also presented are special unit rules; 
  random ‘Mech tables; MechWarrior, Second Edition 
  expansions; and new Combine-produced military 
  equipment from Kanazuchi heavy battle armor to 
  the Tatsumaki destroyer.
  FIELD MANUAL: FREE WORLDS LEAGUE
  1997
  A revision and update on the overall state of the Free Worlds League with a 
  particular emphasis on its military and its component regiments up to the start of 
  3059, including color schemes and deployment of the FWLM. Also presented are 
  special unit rules; random ‘Mech tables; MechWarrior, Second Edition expansions; 
  and new League-produced military equipment from Achileus battle armor to the 
  Thera carrier.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  291
  
  CLASSIC BATTLETECH
  FIELD MANUAL: UPDATES
  2003
  Updates the Field Manual series to bring all 
  factions into the post-FedCom Civil War era. Sets the 
  stage for the Word of Blake Jihad. Includes rundowns 
  and deployments for all major faction units and a 
  narrative history of the past decade of the BattleTech
  universe.
  CLASSIC BATTLETECH FIELD MANUAL: MERCENARIES (REVISED)
  2004
  A revision and update on the overall state of mercenaries across the Inner 
  Sphere as of late 3067, including color schemes and deployment of the most 
  famous units. Also includes updated rules for creating and running a mercenary 
  unit, as well as profi les of four worlds where the merc trade fl ourishes.
  HANDBOOK: HOUSE STEINER
  2004
  Updates the old House Steiner book to the modern 
  3067 era. Includes a complete history of the Lyran 
  Commonwealth, as well as corporate and planetary 
  profi les, an overview of politics and the economy, and 
  several historical maps showing the development 
  of the Commonwealth from its founding until the 
  current day.
  A GUIDE TO COVERT OPS
  2004
  Updating the Intelligence Operations Handbook to the 3067 era, this book 
  includes profi les of all major intelligence agencies throughout the Inner Sphere. 
  Also gives information on the Manei Domini, the Thuggees, WolfNet and several 
  other smaller organizations.
  MERCENARIES SUPPLEMENTAL
  2004
  An update to Field Manual: Mercenaries (Revised) that takes a look at thirty-
  one more members of that profession. Also included are profi les of three worlds 
  where the merc trade fl ourishes, as well a point-based system for creating your 
  own mercenary unit.
  HISTORICAL: WAR OF 3039
  2005
  First in a new series covering historical confl icts of 
  the BattleTech universe. Contains detailed information 
  about the war between the Federated Suns and the 
  Draconis Combine, including unit deployments, 
  personalities, maps and era-specifi c rules.
  FIELD MANUAL: CAPELLAN CONFEDERATION
  2000
  A revision and update on the overall state of the Capellan Confederation with a 
  particular emphasis on its military and its component regiments up to mid-3063, 
  including color schemes and deployment of the CCAF. Also presented are special 
  unit rules; random ‘Mech tables; MechWarrior, Third Edition expansions; and new 
  Confederation-produced military equipment from Fa Shih battle armor to the 
  Feng Huang cruiser.
  FIELD MANUAL: FEDERATED SUNS
  2000
  A revision and update on the overall state of the Federated Suns with a particular 
  emphasis on its military and its component regiments up to late 3062, including 
  color schemes and deployment of the AFFS. Also presented are special unit rules; 
  random ‘Mech tables; MechWarrior, Third Edition expansions; and new FedSuns-
  produced military equipment from Cavalier battle armor to the Avalon cruiser.
  FIELD MANUAL: LYRAN ALLIANCE
  2000
  A revision and update on the overall state of the Lyran Alliance with a particular 
  emphasis on its military and its component regiments up to late 3062, including 
  color schemes and deployment of the LAAF. Also presented are special unit rules; 
  random ‘Mech tables; MechWarrior, Third Edition expansions; and new Alliance-
  produced military equipment from Fenrir heavy armor to the Mjolnir battle 
  cruiser.
  INNER SPHERE
  2000
  A pure sourcebook that overviews the history, culture, sociopolitical condition, 
  and state of aff airs of all the Successor States and major Periphery states in the 
  Inner Sphere, told through the eyes of ComStar. No new rules or equipment are 
  featured in this book, though an atlas of major worlds is given at the end.
  FIELD MANUAL: PERIPHERY
  2000
  An overview of the history and overall state of the major and minor powers 
  of the Near and Deep Periphery, as well as several pirate bands, with a particular 
  emphasis on their military forces up to the beginning of 3064, including color 
  schemes and deployments of each major unit. Also presented are special unit 
  rules, random ‘Mech tables and new military equipment produced by several 
  Periphery powers.
  FEDCOM CIVIL WAR
  2002
  An overview, history and world-by-world account of the civil war across the 
  states of the former Federated Commonwealth are given in this book, which 
  includes BattleTech campaign rules, MechWarrior hooks, and even expansions to 
  BattleForce 2 game play.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  292
  
  HANDBOOK: HOUSE DAVION
  2007
  Updates the old House Davion book to the modern 3067 era. Includes a 
  complete history of the Federated Suns, as well as corporate and planetary 
  profi les, an overview of politics and the economy, and several historical maps 
  showing the development of the Suns from its founding until the current day.
  JIHAD HOT SPOTS: 3072
  2007
  The Jihad continues! As the forces arrayed against the Word of Blake begin to 
  come together in mutual aid, the worst is yet to come. The rules section includes 
  the introduction of the Celestial-series OmniMechs and details of the cyborg 
  Manei Domini troopers.
  BLAKE ASCENDING: A JIHAD COMPILATION
  2008
  Omnibus reprint edition of Dawn of the Jihad and Jihad Hot Spots: 3070.
  JIHAD CONSPIRACIES: INTERSTELLAR PLAYERS 2
  2008
  What secrets lurk behind the Word of Blake and their war against the Inner 
  Sphere? The mysteries behind the Hidden, the Society, Devlin Stone and many 
  more are presented for use by gamemasters and curious players.
  JIHAD SECRETS: THE BLAKE DOCUMENTS
  2008
  Provides players with an overview of the situation in 3075, including maps and 
  campaign descriptions for most major fronts in the war against the Word of Blake. 
  Also: the answers to one of the biggest secrets in BattleTech history are revealed!
  HANDBOOK: MAJOR PERIPHERY STATES
  2009
  Handbook: Major Periphery States gives the essential history, politics and culture 
  of the many larges states in the Periphery.
  JIHAD HOT SPOTS: 3076
  2009
  As the Jihad rages on, new alliances and new heroes emerge in the struggle 
  against Word of Blake zealots.
  MASTERS & MINIONS: THE STARCORPS DOSSIERS
  2009
  StarCorp’s army of administrators has compiled a huge list of whose-who in the 
  BattleTech universe.
  INTERSTELLAR PLAYERS
  2005
  A new kind of sourcebook for BattleTech that provides gamemasters and players 
  with interesting story hooks and fl eshed-out conspiracy theories and mysterious 
  organizations to introduce a new level of play. 
  MERCENARIES SUPPLEMENTAL II
  2005
  A second update to Field Manual: Mercenaries (Revised) that takes a look at forty 
  of the less reputable members of that profession. Also included are profi les of four 
  worlds where the merc trade fl ourishes, as well as rules for creating and running a 
  mercenary unit in alternate eras of BattleTech history.
  DAWN OF THE JIHAD
  2005
  Beginning a new storyline! The Word of Blake launches a full-on assault against 
  the Inner Sphere. Alliances fail, enemies join forces and new heroes arise to 
  combat this threat. Presented in a new “you are there” format that immerses the 
  reader in the ongoing action as it happens.
  HANDBOOK: HOUSE MARIK
  2005
  Updates the old House Marik book to the modern 3067 era. Includes a complete 
  history of the Free Worlds League, as well as corporate and planetary profi les, an 
  overview of politics and the economy, and several historical maps showing the 
  development of the League from its founding until the current day.
  JIHAD HOT SPOTS: 3070
  2005
  The Jihad continues! The war with the Word of Blake heats up in this sourcebook 
  as events continue to spiral out of control. Includes several new vehicles and 
  DropShips and rules for using nuclear weapons in BattleTech game play.
  MERCENARIES SUPPLEMENTAL UPDATE
  2006
  With the chaos of the Jihad raging, this book provides reports on the status 
  of nearly 100 new and previously described mercenary units. Also contains rules 
  for running a merc outfi t during the Jihad and several new units, including the 
  Valiant BattleMech and Aurora DropShip.
  HISTORICAL: BRUSH WARS
  2006
  Second in the Historical series. This sourcebook covers three minor confl icts 
  of the thirty-fi rst century: the Marik Civil War of 3015, the Ronin War of 3034 and 
  the Andurien/Canopian invasion of the Capellan Confederation in 3036. Contains 
  era-specifi c rules, personalities, maps and unit deployments to allow players to 
  recreate these wars.
  BattleTech universe.
  recreate these wars.
  BattleTech universe.
  recreate these wars.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  293
  
  NAIS FOURTH SUCCESSION WAR MILITARY ATLAS (VOL. I & II)
  1988
  Complete overview of the Fourth Succession War in historical format, with 
  information provided to permit fi ghting the Fourth Succession War using 
  BattleForce (First Edition) rules.
  ROLLING THUNDER
  1988
  Scenario pack detailing missions and campaigns fought by Rolling Thunder, a 
  merc outfi t formed after the Marik Civil War, in service to the Free Worlds League 
  between 3025 and 3028. Also included are two BattleForce scenarios and two 
  MechWarrior, First Edition scenarios.
  THE KELL HOUNDS
  1988
  Details the history of the Kell Hounds mercenary unit since its inception, through 
  their actions during the Fourth Succession War. Information on unit strength as of 
  3030, as well as new ‘Mechs and vehicles specifi c to the Hounds, is included.
  THE FOURTH SUCCESSION WAR SCENARIOS, VOL. I
  1989
  Scenario pack detailing key missions of the Fourth Succession War, covering 
  actions between Houses Steiner and Davion against their enemies in the Capellan 
  Confederation, Draconis Combine and Free Worlds League in 3028. 
  THE BATTLE FOR TWYCROSS
  1990
  This scenario pack details the battle for Twycross 
  during the Clan invasion, including scenarios for 
  the initial Jade Falcon conquest and the FedCom 
  counterattack as seen in the novel Lethal Heritage.
  MORE TALES OF THE
  BLACK WIDOW
  1990
  Scenario pack detailing signifi cant actions of 
  Wolf’s Dragoons’ infamous Black Widow Company 
  from 3032 to 3052, covering events from  the War 
  of 3039 and Natasha Kerensky’s role commanding 
  the Wolf Spiders Cluster for Clan Wolf during 
  the invasion years. Two new ‘Mech designs are 
  included. 
  SCENARIO PACKS
  TALES OF THE BLACK WIDOW COMPANY
  1985
  Scenario pack detailing missions and campaigns 
  fought by the Wolf’s Dragoons’ Black Widow Company 
  (mostly against House Davion, in service to House 
  Kurita) around 3022. Included in this scenario pack 
  are stats for three ‘Mechs, among them the Mackie, 
  and fi rst generation double heat sinks.
  THE FOX’S TEETH
  1985
  Scenario pack detailing missions and campaigns fought by McKinnon’s Raiders, 
  a mercenary unit that eff ectively became a House unit loyal to Hanse “The Fox” 
  Davion. This pack describes missions fought by this unit from around 3020 to 
  3029.
  CRANSTON SNORD’S IRREGULARS
  1986
  Scenario pack detailing missions and campaigns fought by Cranston Snord’s 
  Irregulars from 3007 to 3025, including actions along the Steiner-Marik border 
  and the Junkyard Dog Aff air.
  THE GRAY DEATH LEGION
  1986
  Scenario pack detailing missions and campaigns fought by the Gray Death 
  Legion mercenary unit described in the novels Decision at Thunder Rift, Mercenary’s 
  Star and The Price of Glory. The Battle of Helm is featured in this pack, which covers 
  key battles fought from 3024 to 3030.
  THE GALTOR CAMPAIGN
  1987
  Scenario pack detailing key missions of the Galtor Campaign, a military 
  operation fought by House Davion against House Kurita in 3025, designed for use 
  with BattleForce (First Edition), rather than BattleTech.
  SORENSEN’S SABRES
  1987
  Scenario pack detailing missions and campaigns fought by Sorenson’s Sabres, 
  a Draconis Combine unit with roots in the Rasalhague District, from 3021 to 3026. 
  Several 3025-era Kurita ‘Mech variants are featured in this book, as well as the 
  Devastator Mk III tank and Samurai aerospace fi ghter.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  294
  
  1ST SOMERSET STRIKERS
  1995
  Scenario pack detailing adventures of the 1st 
  Somerset Strikers, the ad-hoc unit created by Adam 
  Steiner to investigate the Clans during their invasion. 
  Every battle from the cartoon series is featured, along 
  with BattleTech rules for using EI neural implants.
  THE FALCON AND THE WOLF
  1995
  Scenario pack outlining key battles of the Jade Falcon/Wolf Refusal War 
  that followed the deposing of Ulric Kerensky as ilKhan in 3057. Also provides a 
  historical rundown of the confl ict and a listing of the Crusader Wolves (here called 
  the Jade Wolves), the Falcons, and Clan Wolf-in-Exile afterward.
   
  THE FALL OF TERRA
  1996
  Scenario pack detailing key events in the Word of Blake assault and capture 
  of Terra from ComStar in 3058, with scenarios for BattleTech and BattleSpace. An 
  overview of Terra as of the 31st century is given, along with a few new BattleMechs 
  used by the Blakists.
  FIRST STRIKE!
  1996
  This training scenario pack is designed to introduce 
  new players to the game. Contains a quick overview 
  of the various wars in the Inner Sphere as well as rules 
  for creating and running scenarios, stats and record 
  sheets for a few new OmniMech confi gurations and 
  vehicles.
  THE BATTLE OF COVENTRY
  1997
  Scenario pack detailing key events in the Jade Falcon invasion of Coventry in 
  3058. Includes a history of the battle, as well as stats and record sheets for one 
  new Falcon OmniMech.
  NORTHWIND HIGHLANDERS
  1997
  Scenario pack detailing missions and campaigns fought by the Northwind 
  Highlanders mercenary unit and its cousin unit, the Royal Black Watch, from the 
  days of the Star League—including the Amaris Coup—to their latest actions on 
  Wayside V in 3058. Also included are a history of the Highlanders and stats for the 
  Black Watch ‘Mech and Schiltron OmniTank.
  RHONDA’S IRREGULARS
  1991 
  Scenario pack detailing signifi cant actions of 
  Rhonda’s Irregulars from the Fourth Succession War, 
  to the Clan invasion, from 3028 to 3051. Includes 
  BattleTroops/ClanTroops scenarios as well as BattleTech 
  scenarios, and describes two new ‘Mechs and one 
  new armored vehicle.
  MCCARRON’S ARMORED CAVALRY
  1992
  Scenario pack detailing missions and campaigns 
  fought by the McCarron’s Armored Cavalry mercenary 
  unit in 3044, including the assault on the Davion world 
  of Bourgogne. Also included is a history of the MAC as 
  well as several new ‘Mech and vehicle designs.
  DAY OF HEROES
  1993
  Scenario pack detailing missions and campaigns fought by the Gray Death 
  Legion mercenary unit from 3039 to 3056, including actions in the War of 3039, 
  the Clan Invasion and the Second Skye Rebellion. New rules for terrain and 
  weather are featured.
  LUTHIEN
  1993
  This scenario pack details the battle of Luthien 
  during the Clan invasion, and includes a special map 
  for the scenarios as well as three new Clan ‘Mechs.
  TUKAYYID
  1994
  A complete campaign book for the climactic battle of the Clan invasion. Details 
  all six campaigns fought on Tukayyid and includes scenarios for recreating many 
  of the most important battles between the Clans and ComStar.
  THE BLACK THORNS
  1994
  Scenario pack detailing missions and campaigns fought by the Black Thorns 
  mercenary unit from 3052 to 3057, including fl ashback scenarios set on Tukayyid, 
  a Solaris duel, and the battle on Courchevel in 3057. Also included is a history of 
  the Thorns as well as four new Clan ‘Mechs and one from the Star League era.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  295
  
  STARTERBOOK: WOLF AND BLAKE
  2008
  Taking the struggle between the infamous Black Widows and Word of Blake’s 
  deadly Opacus Venatori as its background, this Starterbook transitions players 
  from the basic Total Warfare rules to the more complicated optional rules found 
  in Tactical Operations. Includes full-color art and record sheets for all twenty-four 
  pilots and their BattleMechs, plus scenarios and advanced rules for weather, 
  terrain and weapons.
  ADVENTURES
  UNBOUND
  1991
  The fi rst adventure designed for the MechWarrior, Second Edition RPG pits the 
  characters against a mad Davion scientist on Solaris VII, and unveils special new 
  technology including cockpit-less ‘Mechs, neurological links direct to the ‘Mech, 
  and special ‘Mech weaponry from buzzsaws to PPC shields.
  BLOODRIGHT
  1992
  An adventure designed for the MechWarrior, Second Edition RPG, this one is 
  focused on Clan player characters, and involves the hunt for descendants of the 
  Not-Named Clan through the Inner Sphere while contending with rival Clansmen 
  on the same trail. Two new Steel Viper ‘Mechs are unveiled.
  NULL SET
  1992
  This MechWarrior, Second Edition adventure features the player characters as 
  members of a mercenary unit caught between ComStar and Word of Blake, who 
  must clear their names when charged with a crime against humanity in destroying 
  an HPG that was actually being used as a weapon against them. Includes detailed 
  information on Outreach and the operations of the Mercenary Review and 
  Bonding Commission. 
  ROYALTY AND ROGUES
  1994
  This MechWarrior, Second Edition adventure takes 
  the player characters to the lawless Periphery world of 
  Port Krin in an eff ort to locate and rescue the daughter 
  of a local duke, abducted as a pawn in a local power 
  struggle.
  LIVING LEGENDS
  1995
  This MechWarrior, Second Edition adventure features a misjumped WarShip 
  from General Kerensky’s Exodus fl eet that arrives in a Smoke Jaguar-occupied 
  system and becomes the focus of a race to capture or destroy its experimental 
  jump drive.
  THE DRAGON ROARS
  1998
  Scenario pack detailing key events of Operation 
  Bulldog, the Inner Sphere drive to destroy the 
  Smoke Jaguar Clan, with a historical overview of the 
  confl ict. Scenarios for BattleTech and BattleForce 2 are 
  included.
  BATTLEPACK: FOURTH SUCCESSION WAR
  1998
  Scenario pack detailing key battles of the Fourth Succession War from 3028 
  to 3029, with a historical overview and several ‘Mech designs plus their record 
  sheets. Sold with counters and the Woodland Map.
  TWILIGHT OF THE CLANS
  1998
  Scenario pack detailing key events of Task Force Serpent, the fi nal Inner Sphere 
  bid to destroy the Smoke Jaguar Clan, and the Great Refusal that ends the Clan 
  invasion, with a historical overview of the confl ict and scenarios for BattleTech, 
  BattleSpace and BattleForce 2. 
  OPERATION STILETTO
  1999
  This fl exible scenario pack, designed for homegrown BattleTech units, features 
  rules for generating balanced forces quickly, tailored to the strengths and 
  capabilities of a player group, with special rules for each mini-campaign. The story 
  is set in 3061, centered on two worlds of the Chaos March and a corporate-backed 
  eff ort to stabilize them.
  OPERATION FLASHPOINT
  2000
  This fl exible scenario pack, designed for homegrown BattleTech units, features 
  rules for generating balanced forces quickly, tailored to the strengths and 
  capabilities of a player group, with special rules for each mini-campaign. The story 
  is set in 3063, on a Lyran world divided by nobles entrenched on opposite sides 
  of the Steiner-Davion split. 
  STARTERBOOK: SWORD AND DRAGON
  2007
  A new series of scenario books designed to bridge 
  the gap between products. Presenting the famed Fox’s 
  Teeth and their sworn foes Sorenson’s Sabres, this 
  Starterbook eases new players from the Introductory 
  Box Set into the more comprehensive Total Warfare 
  rules while providing experienced players with two 
  complete units that can be incorporated into their 
  games. Includes full-color art and record sheets for all twenty-four pilots and their 
  BattleMechs, plus scenarios and optional rules for advanced equipment.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  296
  
  BATTLETECH RECORD SHEETS, VOL I: LIGHT ’MECHS
  1990
  Record sheets for all stock BattleMech and OmniMech designs and variants 
  published through 3050 in previous MechWarrior products. This volume covers 
  light ‘Mechs (up to 35 tons) in alphabetical order.
  BATTLETECH RECORD SHEETS, VOL II: MEDIUM ’MECHS
  1990 
  Record sheets for all stock BattleMech and OmniMech designs and variants 
  published through 3050 in previous MechWarrior products. This volume covers 
  medium ‘Mechs (40-55 tons) in alphabetical order.
  BATTLETECH RECORD SHEETS, VOL III: HEAVY ’MECHS
  1990
  Record sheets for all stock BattleMech and OmniMech designs and variants 
  published through 3050 in previous MechWarrior products. This volume covers 
  heavy ‘Mechs (60-75 tons) in alphabetical order.
  BATTLETECH RECORD SHEETS, VOL IV: ASSAULT ’MECHS
  1990 
  Record sheets for all stock BattleMech and OmniMech designs and variants 
  published through 3050 in previous MechWarrior products. This volume covers 
  assault ‘Mechs (80-100 tons) in alphabetical order.
  BATTLETECH RECORD SHEETS, VOL V: VEHICLES
  1992
  Record sheets for all stock conventional vehicle designs and variants published 
  through 3050 in previous MechWarrior products, in alphabetical order.
  TECHNICAL READOUT: 3055
  1992 (original), 1996 (revised)
  This Technical Readout provides new ’Mechs used by the Inner Sphere and 
  new Clan ’Mechs, including those featured in the two Clan Sourcebooks (Wolf 
  and Jade Falcon) published to date. Additionally, Clan OmniFighters make their 
  debut in this book.
  BATTLETECH RECORD SHEETS: 3055
  1992
  Record sheets for all stock ’Mechs and aerospace fi ghter designs and variants 
  published in Technical Readout 3055, in alphabetical order.
  TECHNICAL READOUTS, 
  RECORD SHEETS AND GAME AIDS
  TECHNICAL READOUT: 3025
  1986 (original), 1996 (revised)
  The fi rst Technical Readout, describing ’Mechs, 
  aerospace fi ghters and even some of the DropShips 
  and conventional vehicles most commonly used in 
  the BattleTech universe circa 3025.
  TECHNICAL READOUT: 3026
  1987
  This Technical Readout exclusively covers vehicles from tanks to submarines 
  and conventional aircraft commonly in use by the Successor States around 3026. 
  Also included is personal equipment intended for use in the MechWarrior role-
  playing game.
  BATTLETECH: REINFORCEMENTS BOX SET
  1987
  Additional ’Mechs, statistics, record sheets, and counters for use in BattleTech, 
  covering all known ’Mechs, vehicles, and their variants created to date. 
  TECHNICAL READOUT: 2750
  1989
  This Technical Readout covers the most common 
  ’Mechs, vehicles and aerospace fi ghters of the Star 
  League Defense Force, and also includes a couple of 
  DropShips and WarShips used in the SLDF naval forces. 
  TECHNICAL READOUT: 3050
  1990 (original), 1996 (revised)
  This Technical Readout updates most of the ‘Mechs 
  used by the Inner Sphere from Technical Readout 
  3025, and adds a few from the Wolf’s Dragoons 
  and Kell Hounds sourcebooks and Technical Readout 2750. The fi rst of the Clan 
  OmniMechs and information on Elementals and other new weapon systems are 
  also included.
  BATTLETECH: REINFORCEMENTS 2
  1990 (boxed set), 1991 (record sheets only)
  Additional ’Mechs, statistics, record sheets and counters for use in BattleTech, 
  covering all known ’Mechs, vehicles, and their variants created through 3050, 
  including the fi rst Clan OmniMechs.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  297
  
  RECORD SHEETS: UPGRADES
  2001
  Record sheets for upgraded versions of previously-published ’Mechs, battle 
  armor, vehicles and ProtoMechs.
  TECHNICAL READOUT: 3067
  2002
  This Technical Readout describes new ’Mechs and 
  conventional vehicles coming into play among the 
  armies of the Great Houses and the Clans around 3067, 
  as well as WarShips from previously published sourcebooks, new DropShips and 
  even new AeroTech 2 fi ghters. 
  RECORD SHEETS: 3067
  2002
  Record sheets for all stock ’Mechs and vehicle designs and variants published 
  in Technical Readout 3067, as well as upgraded variants on older designs and 
  ProtoMechs.
  AEROTECH 2 RECORD SHEETS
  2002
  A compilation of more than three hundred complete record sheets for every 
  conventional fi ghter, aerospace fi ghter, small craft, DropShip, JumpShip, WarShip 
  and space station used in the BattleTech universe.
  TECHNICAL READOUT: PROJECT PHOENIX
  2003
  This Technical Readout reintroduces nearly thirty 
  classic BattleMech designs, upgraded and improved 
  with new technology. All-new art accompanies each 
  design and a gallery of variant designs is included.
  MECHWARRIOR: DARK AGE RECORD SHEETS 1
  2003
  Five decades after the Word of Blake Jihad, war breaks out once more. This 
  collection of record sheets details some of the new units fi ghting in the 3130s, 
  including the Legionnaire, the Ryoken II, the Tundra Wolf, the Jupiter and several 
  new battle armor designs.
  BATTLETECH TECHNICAL READOUT: 3026, REVISED
  2004
  This revised readout includes all the vehicles from the original Technical 
  Readout: 3026 and introduces nearly twenty brand-new vehicles, aerospace 
  fi ghters, DropShips, JumpShips and WarShips.
  TECHNICAL READOUT: 3057
  1994 
  This Technical Readout covers aerospace fi ghters, 
  DropShips and WarShips of the Star League, Clan and 
  Inner Sphere navies, for use with BattleSpace rules.
  TECHNICAL READOUT: 3058
  1995
  This Technical Readout describes new ’Mechs and 
  updated conventional vehicles—many from previous 
  sourcebooks, compiled here—coming into play 
  among the armies of the Great Houses and the Clans around 3058.
  RECORD SHEETS: 3055 AND 3058
  1996
  Record sheets for all stock ‘Mechs, aerospace 
  fi ghters and vehicle designs and variants published 
  in Technical Readouts 3055 and 3058, revised and 
  recompiled.
  RECORD SHEETS 3025 AND 3026
  1996
  Record sheets for all stock ’Mechs, aerospace fi ghters and vehicle designs 
  and variants published in Technical Readouts 3025 and 3026, revised and 
  recompiled.
  RECORD SHEETS 3050
  1996
  Record sheets for all stock ’Mechs, aerospace fi ghters and vehicle designs and 
  variants published in Technical Readout 3050, revised and recompiled.
  TECHNICAL READOUT: 3060
  1998
  This Technical Readout describes new ’Mechs and 
  conventional vehicles coming into play among the 
  armies of the Great Houses and the Clans around 
  3060. Featured as well are never-before-seen Clan conventional vehicles as well 
  as construction and combat rules for the new ProtoMechs.
  RECORD SHEETS: 3060
  1998 
  Record sheets for all stock ’Mechs, ProtoMechs, and vehicle designs and variants 
  published in Technical Readout 3060.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  298
  
  TECHNICAL READOUT: 3039
  2008
  Designed as a companion book to the Introductory 
  Box Set, Technical Readout: 3039 incorporates the 
  ‘Mechs, vehicles and aerospace fi ghters previously 
  published in Technical Readout: 3025 and Technical Readout: 3026. Each design 
  receives a complete history, a listing of variants and a selection of Notable Pilots.
  TECHNICAL READOUT: 3075
  2008
  Presents new designs fi elded by all sides in the 
  Word of Blake Jihad, including the fearsome Celestials, 
  Demons and Spectrals. Also included are various “RetroTech” designs making their 
  return to the battlefi eld after centuries of disuse.
  RECORD SHEETS: 3039
  2008
  A compilation of more than fi fty BattleMech and thirty vehicle record sheets 
  for use with the Introductory Box Set and Technical Readout: 3039. Also included: 
  combat vehicle rules, two scenarios and rules for creating additional scenarios.
  MAP SETS
  MAP SET #1
  1985
  BattleTech terrain maps. Included: BattleTech Map, CityTech Map, Lake Area 
  Map and River Valley Map.
  MAP SET #2
  1988 (cardboard), 1991 (paper)
  BattleTech terrain maps. Included: BattleTech Map, CityTech Map, Mountain 
  Lake, City Ruins, Desert Hills, Scattered Woods, Lake Area and River Valley.
  MAP SET #3
  1991
  BattleTech terrain maps. Included: Desert Mountain (2 maps), Desert Sinkhole 
  (2 maps), City Hills/Residential (2 maps), and Rolling Hills (2 maps).
  MAP SET #4
  1991
  BattleTech terrain maps. Included: Heavy Forest (2 
  maps), City Street Grid/Park (2 maps), Large Lakes (2 
  maps), River Delta/Drainage Basin (2 maps), and Deep 
  Canyon (2 maps).
  MAP SET #5
  1997
  BattleTech terrain maps. Included: BattleForce 2 
  Map, Large Mountain (2 maps), Moonscape (2 maps), 
  Open Terrain (2 maps), Woodland and Wide River.
  MAP SET #6
  2000
  BattleTech terrain maps. Included: Wide River, BattleForce 2 Map, Box Canyon, 
  City (Downtown), City (Skyscraper), City (Residential) and City (Suburbs).
  TECHNICAL READOUT: 3057, REVISED
  2004
  This revised edition includes all the designs from the original Technical Readout: 
  3057, updated for AeroTech 2 rules, as well as two dozen new designs for WarShips 
  from earlier eras in BattleTech history.
  TECHNICAL READOUT: 3055 UPGRADE
  2005
  This upgraded TRO introduces designs using 
  advanced weapons and equipment from Maximum 
  Tech and brings the BattleMechs from the old Solaris VII box set into a Technical 
  Readout for the fi rst time. Also includes updated versions of the ‘Mechs and 
  OmniFighters from the original Technical Readout: 3055 and the return of Notable 
  Pilots.
  TECHNICAL READOUT: 3058 UPGRADE
  2006
  Updates the units from the original Technical Readout: 3058 to the current 3070 
  timeframe and adds Notable Pilots for each design. In addition, a section for battle 
  armor—Inner Sphere and Clan—is included.
  TECHNICAL READOUT: VEHICLE ANNEX
  2006
  This Technical Readout introduces many of the day-to-day designs that 
  populate life in the BattleTech universe. Included are civilian luxury hovercars, 
  satellites, industrial exoskeletons, trains, airships, emergency services vehicles, 
  submarines and much more.
  TECHNICAL READOUT: 3050 UPGRADE
  2007
  Updates the designs from the original Technical 
  Readout 3050 to the 3071 era and includes the ‘Mechs, 
  vehicles and aerospace fi ghters from the out-of-print 
  Technical Readout 2750. Each design receives new art, an expanded history and 
  Notable Pilots.
  RECORD SHEETS: 3050U (INNER SPHERE, CLAN & STAR LEAGUE)
  2007
  Record sheets for more than 500 BattleMechs, vehicles and aerospace fi ghters 
  (plus variants) as published in Technical Readout: 3050 Upgrade. Available in Inner 
  Sphere and Clan/Star League collections.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  299
  
  RECORD SHEETS: SWORD AND DRAGON
  2006
  Set of eight BattleMech record sheets corresponding 
  to the ‘Mechs used by the Fox’s Teeth and Sorenson’s 
  Sabres.
  RECORD SHEETS: 3058 UPGRADE
  2006
  Record sheets for nearly 400 BattleMechs, battle armor and combat vehicles 
  (plus variants) published in Technical Readout: 3058 Upgrade.
  RECORD SHEETS: 3072
  2007
  Six record sheets detailing the new Celestial OmniMechs introduced by the 
  Word of Blake during their Jihad.
  RECORD SHEETS: 3039
  2008
  More than 300 record sheets for the BattleMechs, vehicles and aerospace 
  fi ghters (plus variants) published in Technical Readout: 3039.
  CHAOS CAMPAIGN
  2008
  A free e-book that provides rules and suggestions for using the Campaign Track 
  and Warchest Point systems. Can be used with published tracks such as those 
  found in the Turning Points ebook series and the Jihad plot sourcebooks.
  TURNING POINTS: LUTHIEN
  2008
  First in a new series of e-books! This book allows 
  players to recreate the battles on Luthien during the 
  Word of Blake Jihad in a series of linked scenarios. 
  This book also gives short breakdowns of all the units 
  involved in the fi ghting as well as a planetary map and 
  information.
  TURNING POINTS: NEW AVALON
  2009
  The Turning Points series continues! This book 
  allows players to recreate the battles on New Avalon 
  during the long years of the Blakist occupation and 
  the epic struggles to free the world from their tyranny. 
  Also included are short breakdowns of all the units 
  involved in the fi ghting as well as a planetary map and 
  information.
  MAP SET #7
  2002
  BattleTech terrain maps. Included: DropPort (2 maps), Archipelago (2 maps), 
  Military Base (2 maps), Coast (2 maps) and Seaport.
  MAP SET COMPILATION 1
  2003
  Compilation of maps from Map Set #2, Map Set #3 and Map Set#4.
  MAPPACK: SOLARIS VII
  2005
  Compilation of maps from the Solaris VII box set and Solaris: The Reaches, plus 
  information on the game world, various MechWarrior stables and new weapons 
  and equipment for use in Solaris competitions.
  MAP SET COMPILATION 2
  2005
  Compilation of maps from Map Set #5, Map Set #6, BattleForce 2 and 
  BattleSpace.
  HEX PACK: LAKES AND RIVERS
  2009
  Flexible terrain expansion system designed for use 
  with other pre-printed mapsheets.
  HEX PACK: CITIES AND ROADS
  2009
  Flexible terrain expansion system designed for use with other pre-printed 
  mapsheets.
  EBOOKS ONLY
  RECORD SHEETS: 3055 UPGRADE
  2006
  Record sheets for all stock ’Mechs and OmniFighters (and their variants) 
  published in Technical Readout: 3055 Upgrade.
  RECORD SHEETS: UNIQUE ‘MECHS
  2006
  The result of a fan contest on the BattleCorps website, this e-book describes 
  fi fteen uniquely modifi ed BattleMechs and their pilots. It includes record sheets for 
  each ‘Mech and artwork commissioned specifi cally for one of the winning designs.
  RECORD SHEETS: PHOENIX UPGRADES
  2006 (old style), 2009 (new style)
  More than 200 record sheets for the stock ’Mechs and their variants published 
  in Technical Readout: Project Phoenix. The new-style version is also available in 
  faction-specifi c collections.
  CLASSIC BATTLETECH QUICK-START RECORD SHEETS
  2006
  Two additional BattleMech record sheets and counters for use with the Quick-
  Start Rules.
  CLASSIC BATTLETECH INTRODUCTORY RECORD SHEETS
  2006
  Twenty-four record sheets detailing the plastic BattleMech miniatures found in 
  the Introductory Box Set.
  (
  y
  (
  ),
  ((
  y
  (
  y )
  y
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  300
  
  BATTLETECH PLASTIC MINIATURES
  1993
  The miniatures found in the BattleTech, Third Edition Box Set sold separately, this 
  box set contains fourteen plastic BattleMechs.
  BATTLETECH RECOGNITION CARDS
  1993
  Full-color cards showing the image and stats of all 
  BattleTech ‘Mechs.
  MEDIUM OMNIMECH TECHPRINTS
  1994
  Blueprints of the basic medium Clan OmniMechs: Nova, Stormcrow, Viper and 
  Ice Ferret.
  MECHWARRIOR: TECHNOLOGY OF DESTRUCTION
  2004
  A large-format hardcover book presenting the 
  details of the Dark Age setting in full color. Players can 
  learn about the history of the confl icts and view a map 
  of the Republic of the Sphere. Contains several fold-out 
  sections, including a size chart comparing more than 
  fi fty BattleMechs, vehicles and infantry units.
  MECHWARRIOR COLLECTIBLE 
  MINIATURES GAME SETS
  DARK AGE
  2002
  The Dark Age begins with the collapse of the hyperpulse generator network 
  and the rise of factions within the Republic of the Sphere. This initial set contains 
  158 game pieces, including 54 unique pilots, and introduces the seven base 
  factions: Bannson’s Raiders, Dragon’s Fury, Highlanders, Republic, Swordsworn, 
  Spirit Cats and Steel Wolves.
  FIRE FOR EFFECT
  2003
  The action heats up as the struggle for power in the Republic continues. This 
  set contains 136 game pieces, including 52 unique pilots.
  DEATH FROM ABOVE
  2003
  With allegiance to the Lyran Commonwealth, the Stormhammers thunder onto 
  the scene in this expansion set. Contains 144 game pieces, including 32 unique 
  pilots. Introduces the Stormhammers faction.
  TURNING POINTS: THARKAD
  2009
  This book allows players to recreate the battles on Tharkad during the long 
  years of the Blakist occupation. Also included are short breakdowns of all the 
  units involved in the fi ghting as well as a planetary map and information.
  OTHER PRODUCTS
  BATTLETECH BLUEPRINTS
  1986
  Blueprints of the more famous ‘Mechs (particularly, several Unseen) used in the 
  3025 era, issued in rolled format.
  THE SUCCESSION WARS (BOARD GAME)
  1987
  A board game based on the 3025-era BattleTech universe that allows players to 
  control entire Houses in campaigns against one another.
  CAMO SPECS
  1988
  A pictorial overview of the standard paint schemes of several famous BattleTech 
  units.
  PLASTECH
  1988
  The fi rst plastic miniatures released for BattleTech, Plastech includes two each of 
  eight diff erent BattleMechs.
  FACTION PATCHES
  1988
  Three-inch cloth patches for Houses Kurita, Davion, Liao, Marik and Steiner.
  FACTION PATCHES
  1990
  Three-inch cloth patches for the Federated Commonwealth, as well as Clans 
  Wolf, Ghost Bear, Jade Falcon and Smoke Jaguar.
  BATTLETECH BLUEPRINTS
  1991
  Blueprints of the more famous ’Mechs used in the 3025 era, reissued in folded 
  format.
  OMNIMECH BLUEPRINTS
  1991
  Blueprints of the more infamous heavy Clan OmniMechs.
  p
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  301
  
  DOMINATION
  2006
  The Ghost Bears of the Rasalhague Dominion claim to have come to help 
  the Republic, but can they be trusted? Set contains 246 game pieces, including 
  33 unique Gunslinger pilots. Introduces Clan Wolf as a faction with a special 
  “Historical” pilot card and BattleMech of Phelan Ward.
  CLAN JADE FALCON BATTLEFORCE
  2006
  Special set of six Jade Falcon BattleMechs and pilots, available to Offi  cer’s Club 
  members.
  REPUBLIC OF THE SPHERE BATTLEFORCE
  2006
  Special set of six Republic BattleMechs, two each of the Nyx, Malice and 
  Mangonel.
  VANGUARD
  2006
  With so many factions fi ghting over the corpse of the Republic, a free-for-all of 
  epic proportions breaks out. Set contains 179 game pieces, including 24 unique 
  Gunslinger pilots. Introduces the Wolf Hunters and (through a special “Historical” 
  pilot card and BattleMech) ComStar as factions.
  WAR COLLEGE
  2006
  Two BattleMechs and their pilots, available to those who participated in the 
  special War College promotional games at local stores. This event was designed 
  to help new players learn the MechWarrior game.
  ARES BATTLEFORCE
  2006
  From out of nowhere comes the fi rst of a new breed of BattleMech: the 
  mysterious Colossal-class Ares! This set contains three Ares miniatures and the 
  pilots needed to run them, as well as rules for including them in your game.
  WOLF STRIKE
  2006
  Clan Wolf hits the Republic in force, bringing with them new BattleMech 
  designs and fearsome troops. Set contains 226 game pieces, including 40 unique 
  Gunslinger pilots. Also includes a special “Historical” pilot card and BattleMech of 
  Katherine Steiner-Davion.
  AURORA DROPSHIP
  2003
  This large-scale DropShip can be incorporated into MechWarrior: Dark Age as a 
  game piece, a terrain feature or both. Features fi ve combat dials and four ‘Mech 
  bays that can be used to enhance repair abilities.
  LIAO INCURSION
  2003
  The Capellan Confederation enters the fray with an invasion of the Republic to 
  reclaim their former worlds. Set contains 156 game pieces, including 44 unique 
  pilots. Introduces the House Liao faction.
  COUNTERASSAULT
  2004
  Beset on all sides, the Republic strikes back against the invaders! This set 
  contains 151 game pieces, including 39 unique pilots.
  FALCON’S PREY
  2004
  Descending like a sudden storm, Clan Jade Falcon invades the Republic! Set 
  contains 146 game pieces, including 34 unique pilots. Introduces the Jade Falcon 
  faction.
  AGE OF DESTRUCTION
  2005
  As the storyline moves from the Dark Age to a new Age of Destruction, this 
  set revamps the MechWarrior game with new card-based mechanics for building 
  forces, altering the battlefi eld and customizing units. Set includes 245 game 
  pieces, including Faction Pride, Mercenary Contract, Gear, Planetary Condition 
  and Alliance cards, plus 20 unique Gunslinger pilot cards. Introduces Houses 
  Davion and Steiner as factions.
  FIREPOWER
  2005
  The samurai forces of the Draconis Combine want a piece of the Republic and 
  will stop at nothing to get their share. Set contains 165 game pieces, including 
  18 unique Gunslinger pilot cards. Introduces House Kurita and Clan Nova Cat as 
  factions.
  ANNIHILATION
  2005
  The Nova Cats jump in with full force as the Combine invasion of the Republic 
  continues. Set contains 173 game pieces, including 22 unique Gunslinger pilots. 
  Introduces the Rasalhague Dominion as a faction.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  302
  
  UNDEAD ACTION PACK
  2007
  When four of the worst criminals in known space escaped from prison, they banded 
  together as the Four Horsemen and hired themselves out as deadly mercenaries. This 
  set includes four ‘Mechs and unique pilots, plus an exclusive map.
  WOLF’S DRAGOONS WOLF SPIDERS ACTION PACK
  2007
  The infamous Wolf Spiders come to the MechWarrior game in this set, which 
  contains four BattleMechs and pilots, four scenario cards and an exclusive map. 
  Also included is a special “Historical” pilot card for the legendary Jaime Wolf, 
  founder of Wolf’s Dragoons.
  WOLF’S DRAGOONS GAMMA REGIMENT ACTION PACK
  2007
  This action pack brings one of the most storied BattleTech units full force into 
  the MechWarrior game. Included are two BattleMechs and pilots, infantry, vehicles, 
  squadron cards and contracts, plus an exclusive map.
  SOLARIS VII CAMPAIGN PACK
  2008
  An expansion of the Solaris VII rule set, containing new rules for running 
  stables and tournaments on the Game World. Also contains rally cards to aff ect 
  the outcome of a match and a campaign tracking worksheet for keeping records 
  of your matches.
  METAL MINIATURES
  1985-2009
  Originally produced by Ral Partha and then Iron Wind Metals, a full line of metal 
  miniatures for the BattleTech universe has been in constant release for more than 
  20 years. More than one thousand individual sculpts have been released, with 
  more than fi ve million units sold across two decades.
  LICENSED PRODUCTS
  The list of licensed products for BattleTech is far beyond the purview of this 
  book. From magazines to comic books, toy lines to plastic model kits, mugs to 
  pins, T-shirts to hats, dossier folders to interactive combat books, dice to mouse 
  pads, checks to large-scale resin sculpts, virtual reality pods to a massive multi-
  player online game, software game aids to a host of best-selling computer games 
  (see p. 254), BattleTech has spread the feel of metal titans storming across alien 
  worlds to a massive list of paraphernalia.
  TRANSLATIONS
  BattleTech game books and novels have been translated and published in more 
  than a dozen languages worldwide. A host of licensed products—along the lines 
  of those discussed above—have also appeared in numerous countries around 
  the world.
  FANDOM
  The BattleTech community has always been dedicated and connected. First 
  through fan organizations (such as MechForce North America and similar 
  chapters around the world) and then through more than fi ve thousand BattleTech 
  websites, the community stays active and interactive. A myriad of fan-generated 
  publications, from fanzines to original fan-generated sourcebooks, have seen 
  print and e-publication, widening the depth of material available for use. 
  GALE FORCE 9 BATTLEFORCE
  2006
  This package of 3D terrain templates for use with the MechWarrior CMG also 
  comes with four BattleMechs and their pilots.
  POSEIDON ACTION PACK
  2006
  A fourth Colossal-class Ares is sighted and it’s even more deadly. Set includes 
  one miniature, the pilots needed to fi eld it and supporting infantry.
  PHANTOM WAR BATTLEFORCE
  2006
  A complete stand-alone game that pits three Clan Hell’s Horses ‘Mechs against 
  three ‘Mechs from House Steiner. Includes two unique pilots, two-sided game 
  mat, dice and rules. Pilots and miniatures are compatible with MechWarrior: Age 
  of Destruction.
  HOUSE DAVION ACTION PACK
  2007
  This action pack contains six BattleMechs and six pilots from the powerful 
  House Davion, including the Atlas and Enforcer III.
  CHAMPIONS, VOLUME 1 ACTION PACK
  2007
  This set honors the top four players in the 2006 MechWarrior Fellowship 
  Championship. Each of the winners chose a ‘Mech and had a pilot card based on 
  them. Set also includes gear cards and a map. Introduces the Mortis BattleMech.
  CHAMPIONS, VOLUME 2 ACTION PACK
  2007
  This set honors the top four players in the 2006 MechWarrior World 
  Championship. Each of the winners chose a ‘Mech and had a pilot card based 
  on them. Set also includes gear cards and two maps. Introduces the Daishi 
  BattleMech.
  SOLARIS VII ACTION PACKS
  2007
  The four Solaris VII action packs (Light, Medium, Heavy and Assault) introduce a 
  new rule set for more nuanced battles between contestants on the famous Game 
  World. Each set contains four to eight ‘Mechs and their unique pilots, plus gear 
  cards, a map and rules for Solaris VII combat.
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
  B I B L I O G R A P H Y
  303
  
  BATTLETECH
  2 5  Y E A R S  O F  A R T  &  F I C T I O N
   
  304
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/BattleTech [multi]/EXTRA/25 Years of Art & Fiction.pdf