He’d positioned the unit in a loose arrowhead, with him self only one row back from point. If only the Smoke Jaguars would just leave off, let his unit fall back with the others.ĭavid checked his unit’s formation on the heads up display, a 360-degree sensor sweep compressed down to the 120-degree arc of his two-dimensional tactical screen. He shifted in his seat to ease muscles cramped from several long days of hard fighting in the cockpit of his ‘Mech. He should be studying the sensor images fed back by his targeting and tracking suite. Nine meters above the ground, swaying under the lumbering stride of the giant war machine, the sensation of flying through the fog was almost hypnotic. Kommandant David McCarthy, commander of the First Kathil Uhlans’ Second Battalion, forced himself to look away from the ferroglass shield that protected his Devastator’s wraparound cockpit. The haze swirled about trees and boulders, tangled among the legs of the Uhlan BattleMechs, clinging to their upper bodies like a shroud of dingy, damp gauze. It was as if Huntress herself favored the Clan defenders, would give them every last advantage they needed to drive away the invading armies. Thick and gray, the fog gave rise to shifting light and shadow that had the pursuing MechWarriors jumping at phantasms. Only to have the Jaguars fall back on them with a vengeance they could never hope to match.Īn early morning mist persisted into a noon fog, filling the shallow valleys of the Dhuan Swamp, roiling over sward-covered knolls that stood as small islands, barely discernible from one another. The hunters had driven their quarry to bay, all right. My two sons, Talon LaRon and Conner Rhys-Monroe, and my lovely daughter, Alexia Joy, who gave up time with me that I plan to repay with interest now.Īnd the cats are still here-Chaos, Rumor, and Ranger-who get far too comfortable in my chair when I’m not looking.
My wife, Heather Joy, who bore up well with my multiple dead lines. Laurie and Robin Olson, who helped out with extra child-watch duties. Doug Vemon, ditto that and add in a late morning the next day. Group W for the diversions they provide at GenCon. The Battle force IRC community, for their continued pestering. Russell Loveday, Keith Mick, Allen and Amy Mattila, Vince Foley, Matt Dillahunly, Tim Tousely, Raymond Sainz, and Tim Huffer, for taking turns in the gaming group that refuses to die.
My parents, LaRon and Dawn Coleman, most recently for their help in reducing the stress of nonrelated topics.
Jordan Weisman, Mort Weis man, Ross Babcock: the FASA trinity. Donna Ippolito, Annalise Raziq, and Wyn Hilly for their various turns in helping this book see print. My agent, Don Maass, for the recent nudges and signposts.īryan Nystul and Randall Bills, keepers of all things BattleTechy. Jim LeMonds, to whom I am very grateful for that first push.
Dean Wesley Smith and Kristine Kathryn Rusch, who I haven’t seen for far too long, though they always remain close by my career. Mike Stackpole, for the brainstorming and constant assistance. I hope the following people know how important they were to this project. That and the help of some very good people. To Allen and Amy Mattila, for the many nights of movies and wine and talk.Īll it takes is pressure and time.
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