TEXT: BATTLECORPS
  Author’s Note: 
  Out of all of the e-mails I receive, one of the top ques-
  tions I get is, “what happened to Archer Christifori during 
  the fight for New Avalon?” Good question. Thanks to 
  some prodding from Loren, the time has come to com-
  plete the saga. 
  The following events take place after Operation 
  Audacity and during the novel Endgame. The start of 
  this takes place just before the events in Chapter 24 of 
  Endgame. 
  THE LONGEST ROAD
  The Untold Story of Archer Christifori 
  and Archer’s Avengers
  By: Blaine Lee Pardoe
  
  BATTLECORPS
  The Longest Road • Page 2
  Prologue
  DropShip Colonel Crockett, Landing Approach  
  New Avalon, Crucis March 
  Federated Suns 
  29 December 3066
  The Crockett quaked slightly as it punched through a pocket of 
  clear air turbulence. For a moment, everyone’s heart skipped a 
  beat. If it wasn’t turbulence, it could be an attack. Captain Fuller, 
  an old friend from years past, cast General Archer Christifori an 
  unshaken nod. Archer remembered when Fuller used to react to 
  every bump that the ship took. That was before the war, before he 
  became a seasoned veteran. 
  The heavy almost sweaty air seemed to get more stagnant as 
  everyone else wondered if they had been fired upon. Archer didn’t 
  worry. If Fuller wasn’t worried, then he wasn’t. This was not nor-
  mal landing. This was the big one, the big show, the one that they 
  had all been waiting for. This was New Avalon. This was the end 
  of a tyrant. 
  We aren’t going to be shot down, not after all we’ve been through. 
  God wouldn’t let that happen. That’s why we’re here, now… for 
  the end.  
  “We’ve got final clearance,” came the voice of the comm officer. 
  “Penny for your thoughts?” Colonel Chaffee asked from his side. 
  Archer turned to her quickly, absent-mindedly. He had forgotten 
  that she was there. He had been so focused on their approach, he 
  had not paid much attention to his surroundings. When he saw 
  her face he wanted to kick himself. Only an idiot would forget 
  someone like her. 
  “Me?” he replied coyly. “Just about a hundred or so thoughts. 
  How secure is the LZ? What about our decoy force on Graceland—
  how are they doing? What is the current status of operations on 
  New Avalon? Are we too late, if so, is that bad? What if her side 
  has the upper hand? How’s that for starters?”
  “I guess shouldn’t be surprised that you had a few things on 
  your mind,” she said giving him a smile in rebuttal. “Par for the 
  course.” 
  
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  He wanted to say more. A wave of emotions came over him, 
  washed with memories of the last few years of his life. It had be-
  gun on Thorin. His sister Andrea was killed by an operative of 
  Katherine Steiner-Davion, who in turn pardoned the killer. The 
  fighting on Thorin had been his entry into the Civil War on the side 
  of Prince Victor. Thorin had been home. He had done his duty for 
  the military in fighting the Clan invasion and had hoped to retire 
  to the family business. He had become a businessman. The war 
  had torn him away from all of that. Circumstances had forced him 
  to take on the mantle of a warrior again. 
  There had been months of fighting on half a dozen worlds in the 
  Lyran Alliance. Hit and run strikes, constantly keeping the Lyran’s 
  off-balance and forcing them to send countless troops after him. 
  Then he and his rag-tag band of regiments, cobbled together 
  from a dozen different units, had been sent to woo the services of 
  Snord’s Irregulars to Prince Victor’s cause. 
  That had proven difficult. The elite mercenaries had nearly been 
  wiped out themselves in political maneuverings that had pitted 
  him against them. It was pure luck that he had been able to sort 
  through the mess and prevent slaughter. Colonel Tasha Snord 
  now commanded the unit and kept them out of the civil war—a 
  blow against Katherine’s cause. 
  He had hoped to be on New Avalon months earlier. But that was 
  not to be. The Jade Falcons slammed into the border with the 
  Lyran Alliance. Archer had volunteered to go and try and rally sup-
  port to stop them. He forged an uneasy alliance with Adam Steiner 
  and caught the Falcons off guard by seizing the initiative and at-
  tacking their own occupation zone. 
  It was a risky gamble that paid off. For Archer it had been gamble 
  that he had played with the blood of his men. His Avengers, “Archer’s 
  Avengers,” had been decimated in the fighting. He hated that name, 
  but didn’t want to hit their morale by forcing them to rename the unit. 
  A relative peace had come over the Lyran/Falcon border.
  The last few years had taken their toll. He felt older than his years. 
  Roles had been thrust upon him that he never expected. There 
  had been many times that he was in over his head. Prince Victor 
  seemed to have faith in him when he didn’t even have faith in him-
  self. His troops had faith too. In the end it was Katya’s faith that 
  mattered the most. It had helped him get this far. She had always 
  been something more than just an officer. She was his confidant, 
  his friend, the one person that he fully trusted. He was counting on 
  her faith in him to get him to the end. 
  
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  Archer had thought about stopping, settling in on a world for a 
  few months and rebuilding. Some of his officers had suggested it. 
  But he couldn’t. There was an appointment that had to be taken 
  care of, a final mission. The death of his sister had compelled him 
  into fighting in the war. Removing Katherine Steiner-Davion from 
  power was the ultimate goal and with the Prince driving to New 
  Avalon, Archer knew where he needed to be—there, at his prince’s 
  side for the endgame. 
  Intelligence had said that Katherine’s agents were watching him, so 
  slipping away was not easy. On Graceland he used some of the local 
  militia and some of the personnel to stay behind and create the ruse 
  that the Avengers were still there. They paraded ’Mechs, stirred up 
  dust, caroused in bars, and maintained the illusion of a presence. 
  In reality the battered regiment that remained of his hodge-podge 
  force packed up and began the trek across the Inner Sphere. They 
  rebuilt and recouped along the way. At two jump points, they met 
  up with friendly ships, picking up supplies and parts, and even a 
  handful of troops for replacement. Snord’s Irregulars had sent a 
  ship to rendezvous with them at Northwind at the recharge point. 
  Two of their MechWarriors had volunteered to come along, tem-
  porarily relieved of duty with the mercenaries. It was a gift from a 
  dear friend and he appreciated it. The sound of the troops cheer-
  ing for their new comrades in arms brought a smile to his face. It 
  seemed that everyone that had a stake in the Civil War wanted to 
  be there on New Avalon for the resolution. 
  Archer sighed and closed his eyes. So many dead. Katherine had 
  an ocean of blood on her hands. The time had come to put an end 
  to the war. She was a tyrant. A bitch. For his sister, for his men 
  and women, for everyone that that suffered under her rule, he was 
  coming to New Avalon. 
  “I’m coming for you, Katherine. Going to make you pay,” he mut-
  tered under his breath. 
  “What was that sir?” Katya asked.
  He opened his eyes. “Nothing, Katya. Just talking to myself I 
  guess.”
  “Right,” she said slowly. “For what it’s worth, Archer, I was think-
  ing the same thing.” She gave him a smile, warm, beyond friendly. 
  For a moment he allowed himself to think of her before the war and 
  even after it. Perhaps there was going to be some sort of life after 
  all of this. Maybe, just maybe, she would be a part of that life. 
  
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  “Sir,” the comm officer called out. “We are approaching the LZ. A 
  private file has been transmitted for you. Orders sir, and one more 
  thing.” 
  “What is it?”
  “Sir, we just got these words: ‘Welcome to the party Avengers.’”
  Archer smiled. Yes, indeed. But this was not a party, not a game. 
  This was the last battle of the last war that he would be called to 
  fight in, or so he hoped. “Signal back comm. Tell them that we 
  bring greetings from the Lyran Alliance, the Falcon Occupation 
  Zone, and all points in between.”  
  
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  Chapter One
  Daring Flood Plains 
  New Avalon, Crucis March 
  Federated Suns 
  29 December 3066
  “Any word yet?” Victor Steiner-Davion asked as he raised his 
  head from the holotable where he and the other officers surveyed 
  the battle zone. Dust swept through the air as a Cicada kicked up a 
  cloud of dirt, swirling through the interior of the HQ area. 
  “He’s on his way,” replied Kai Allard-Liao, walking over to the 
  table. “He wanted to ensure his troops were billeted first.” Kai 
  smirked. They joked privately that Christifori cared more for his 
  men than anything or anyone else. It was an admirable trait, but 
  on more than one occasion he had kept Victor waiting.  
  Victor flashed a fast grin. He expected that from the General. 
  “For that, I can wait.”
  Kai nodded and crossed his arms. “Have you given your idea 
  any more thought Victor?”
  “You still worried?”
  “You’re asking quite a bit from him. After all he’s done for us so 
  far, you may be asking too much. The Civil War has cost him a 
  great deal as well—his sister and all.” There was a hint of hesita-
  tion in his voice, one that the Prince did his best to ignore. 
  “I know, Kai.” I know all too well, this war has cost many of us 
  our families.  “I know he wants in the middle of the big fight, but I 
  need him to do this assignment. I know I’m asking him to go into 
  harm’s way one more time. But if he does it, he might just be able 
  to help us bring this fight to an end faster.” 
  Another officer, his arm in a sling, stepped forward and snapped 
  to attention. “Your Highness. Major General Archer Christifori, 
  sir,” the Leftenant said. Behind him a man stepped forward and 
  offered Victor a salute. 
  The man seemed older than the last time that Victor had seen 
  him two years ago. The Jade Falcons will do that to you. There 
  was a little more white hair in his sideburns and a wrinkle or two 
  
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  more. When they had last met, Archer had assumed command of 
  Operation Audacity, a plan to blunt and drive back a Jade Falcon 
  incursion into the Lyran Alliance. He had performed brilliantly, far 
  better than what Victor or his staff had anticipated. Christifori had 
  punched into the Falcon occupation zone and had forced them to 
  pull back or risk losing their honor.  More importantly, he had won 
  over his cousin Adam and had denied Katherine vital political and 
  military support.  
  As Victor looked at the faded jumpsuit that the General wore, he 
  could see that the man was weary, almost sagging in his salute. 
  His eyes were sunken, dark, with bags under them and crows-feet 
  marking their ends. He had gotten a tan somewhere, one that was 
  fading and making his face appear almost leathery. The fight along 
  the Lyran border had forced Christifori to forge an alliance with a 
  difficult man, Adam Steiner. In the end Archer had managed to not 
  only blunt the Falcons, but had won over Adam enough to have 
  him back out of either his or his sister’s side in the civil war. 
  “General,” Victor said, planting a smile on his face, “I’m glad you 
  were able to join us.” He extended his hand and as Archer took it, 
  Victor reinforced his shake with his other hand as well. “You look 
  good for a man who’s supposed to be on Graceland.” 
  Archer allowed himself a brief smile. “I take it that our little de-
  coy still has your sister convinced?”
  “Yes. Our own agents in MI5 say that you are still back there, far 
  from her prying eyes.” 
  Archer looked around at the HQ area, then back to Victor. “I nev-
  er thought I’d be back here again, on New Avalon.” 
  That’s right, he was in the Academy and NAIS. “I always knew 
  we’d be here—again,” Victor replied. 
  “Yes sir. I’m sure you did.” He glanced over his shoulder at a lance 
  of ’Mechs in the distance. “I’ll be damned. Is that our old unit?”
  The Prince smiled proudly. “Tenth Lyran Guard. Fighting during 
  the Clan invasion seems like a lifetime ago.”
  “Things were easier then,” Christifori added. “With the Clans you 
  had defined enemies. Good versus evil; that’s how it seemed any-
  way. You knew where you stood. Now with all of this,” he swept 
  his arm out to where a salvage team was working to recover the 
  remains of a destroyed Seventeenth Avalon Hussar’s ’Mech. It had 
  been a victim of the fighting the day before and was now fair game 
  
  BATTLECORPS
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  for the technicians salvaging it for parts. The techs struggled with 
  a stubbornly clinging strand of myomer that refused to let go of 
  the actuator at which they were pulling. “You don’t always know 
  who the bad guys are.” 
  Victor’s voice changed tone. “I want to congratulate you person-
  ally on your operations against the Jade Falcons. You performed 
  brilliantly.”
  Archer allowed himself a grin. “I appreciate the kind words, sir. 
  But I assure you, I wasn’t the driving force.”
  Victor gave him a nod. “I know. If it’s all the same, you still de-
  serve the congratulations. Any man that can work side-by-side 
  with the Wolf Clan, tangle with the Jade Falcons, and soothe the 
  ego of Adam Steiner is a man that deserves congratulations.”
  Archer paused for a moment, drinking in the memories of the 
  last campaign. “There was a price for that victory, Highness. We 
  accomplished our mission, but the cost was steep.”
  “I haven’t gone over your readiness reports,” Victor replied. 
  “What is your current status?”
  “We started operations with three regiments, though realisti-
  cally these were combined elements of militia, veterans, locals, a 
  real cobbled together group. At this point, on paper, we’re at regi-
  mental strength. That’s on paper. Realistically, we’ve lost more 
  personnel than equipment. The gear we do have is patchwork. I’m 
  low on expendables and ammunition. If you want a realistic as-
  sessment, I would rate us at two reinforced battalions—tops.” His 
  voice was weary. His words seemed mixed with memories of the 
  campaign, the fighting, the deaths and perhaps even worse. 
  Victor understood. He had seen war at its worst and knew how 
  commanders felt the pain of loss. Loss was something that he 
  had struggled with for a long time himself. First his father at the 
  end of the Clan wars, a loss that seemed to hit him harder now 
  that he was on New Avalon. The assassination of his mother, then 
  Omi. Archer was older than he was, but was carrying the weight 
  of the loss of his troops as if it was a physical burden. “General, I 
  need you to get what forces you can ready. We have ammunition, 
  parts, and replacement MechWarriors. We need to get you up to 
  strength.”
  Archer cocked his eyebrow as he looked at the shorter prince. 
  “You’re sending us into the fight so soon?”
  
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  “Not necessarily,” Victor said. Not the way you’re hoping…
  “I’ll need a little more than that, Highness,” Archer replied. “Truth 
  be told, my men are going to need more.”
  Victor understood. That’s what I like about him. He’s a soldier’s 
  soldier. “Archer, I want your men ready for a fight but they aren’t 
  going in right away.”
  Archer crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels. “Details?”
  Victor shifted his stance slightly. “General Christifori, since you 
  joined my cause it has been known that you have wanted my sis-
  ter to come to justice.”
  “Her actions led to my sister’s death.” His voice seemed to ring 
  with anger.
  “I know.” There was more that Victor wanted to say. The list of 
  his sister Katherine’s crimes was long. The dead attributed to her 
  arrogance was a list that was a scar across the shattered remains 
  of the Federated Commonwealth, now segregated into its original 
  Lyran and Davion halves. “It is a fact that is also known to Katherine 
  and her people. Our own propaganda people have made sure that 
  your motivations are well known.”
  Archer said nothing. He was obviously drinking in the informa-
  tion that Victor was providing him. 
  Victor continued. “We are going to covertly reconstitute your 
  regiment, the First Thorin, the Avengers. Officially we’re going 
  to disguise you as part of the Outland Legion, a ploy of hiding 
  you right under my sister’s nose. You will be seen meeting with 
  a number of other regimental commanders, handing out orders, 
  directing operations.”
  “Disinformation?”
  Victor nodded. “My intention is to create the illusion that you 
  are going to lead the final assault to Avalon Island and the palace. 
  There are spies everywhere here. Your successes in the past, my 
  known pretense for leveraging people such as yourself to render 
  justice—it will all play well with her intelligence corps. MI5 is go-
  ing to believe that you are going to be leading the final push.”
  Archer uncrossed his arms and rested his hands on his hips. 
  “Permission to speak freely sir?”
  His request caught Victor off guard. “Of course.”
  
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  “Sire, I didn’t come all of this way just to sit on the sideline and 
  be a diversion or some sort of intelligence ploy. I have buried my 
  troops all over the Commonwealth and the Falcon Occupation 
  Zone. I came to put an end to this.” Christifori paused and let his 
  words sink in. There was no venom in his voice, no demands. It 
  was as if his emotions had been drained from him. 
  Victor understood. Like so many officers that had fought for him, 
  they had lost a great deal—family, friends, livelihoods, all cast 
  aside for him and his cause. Archer Christifori was not asking for 
  anything more than what he had wanted from the very beginning 
  of the conflict—justice. 
  “Archer,” he said slowly. “You have my word. You’ll be there at 
  the end. There will be plenty of fighting for you and your troops. 
  This isn’t just a diversion; it’s much more. You have my assurance 
  that you’ll be there when the curtain falls.”
  Archer sighed heavily. “Your word has always been enough for 
  me. Very well then, Highness,” he said saluting. “I’m at your dis-
  posal then. Can you give me the details of what you have in mind?”
  Victor saw a glint in his General’s eyes, something of the de-
  termination that made Christifori so useful. “Archer, it would be 
  my pleasure.”
  The Avengers, Archer’s Avengers, were deployed not far from 
  their DropShips on a sandy plateau. Every time the wind swept 
  their tents and ’Mechs, it kicked up tiny twisters of dust and dirt. 
  The air was dry this season and each breath made the fine dust 
  stick to the roof of your mouth. The plant-life was sparse in this 
  area of the flood plains, mostly scrub brush and saplings. It was 
  not the paradise that most people associated with New Avalon. 
  Archer walked over to the campfire near the center of the camp 
  and as he approached, he saw his officers rise to attention. He 
  gave them a quick salute. Formality of this kind was not typical of 
  his unit. Must be the presence of so many regular army units…
  Colonel Katya Chaffee drank down her last gulp of coffee, shak-
  ing the last bit out of the cup at the fire, then walked over near him. 
  He would have called it a saunter, but there was nothing exotic 
  
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  about it. Months of being in the field and aboard a DropShip had 
  forced him to forget sometimes that Katya was a woman. The look 
  in her eye was enough to remind him. 
  Maybe if this war is ever over…
  “General,” she said. “What’s the word?”
  He allowed himself one chuckle. “The word? The word is that we 
  are going to play a crucial and critical role in the eventual assault 
  on Avalon Island.”
  “That explains the arrival of five trucks loaded with replace-
  ment parts,” replied Captain John Kraff of the Muphrid Rangers. 
  The Rangers had been the heart and soul of the Second Thorin 
  Regiment…when that regiment had existed. The Jade Falcons 
  had decimated its ranks. Now it was little more than a battalion of 
  troops. “I don’t think we’ve ever been this well outfitted.”
  “That doesn’t bring back the dead,” Katya added solemnly. 
  Archer had seen her gloom before. “Regardless,” he said, ignor-
  ing the comment, “we have some major operations to plan. The 
  role of the Avengers in securing a beachhead on Avalon Island is 
  critical.” 
  “We leading the way in sir?” asked Major Alice Gett. 
  “In a manner of speaking, yes. We will be landing six hours prior 
  to the rest of the invasion force.”
  His officers gave each other nervous glances at the news.  For a 
  moment, there was no sound other than the noises of the troopers 
  in the camp and the crackle of the flames as a log settled, sending 
  sparks upward into the darkness. 
  “Sir,” Katya asked hesitantly. “Are you serious?”
  “Yes, I am,” he said solidly. “And if we do our jobs right, we can 
  help bring this war to an end.” Turning he scanned the eyes of 
  his officers and made sure that he had eye contact with each and 
  every one of them. “We will have a secured briefing tomorrow to 
  go over the operational plans. Get some sleep and I will see all of 
  you at 0830 hours.” Before they could rebut him, Archer pivoted 
  and walked away. 
  They’re good people. I need to ask them to take part in one more 
  fight. That’s all, just one more fight…
  
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  Chapter Two
  Camp Avenger, The Daring Flood Plains 
  New Avalon, Crucis March 
  Federated Suns 
  31 December 3066
  The dull, flat-green plexi-dome had guards posted all around it. 
  A fine layer of dust covered it and was streaked where people had 
  brushed up against the dome, taking the dust with them. As the ad 
  hoc command center for Archer’s Avengers, the roof of the small 
  collapsible structure was covered with a prickled layer of antenna, 
  stabbing skyward. 
  Inside the dome, Archer stood over the holotable. Millennia be-
  fore, a table covered with sand had served the same purpose—to 
  allow a commander to model combat terrain for tactical planning 
  purposes. The holotable was a familiar tool, but Archer found him-
  self waxing nostalgic, wondering what it was like to use a good 
  old-fashioned sand table. 
  While the hot sun beat down on the plains outside, the portable 
  AC unit strained to keep the interior of the command center cool. 
  His officers stood around the table, staring at the holographic im-
  age of the target—Avalon Island. Most had their arms crossed over 
  their chests. They said nothing. Despite orders, Captain Kraff had 
  a cigar in his mouth, a thin wisp of smoke rising from it. It didn’t 
  reek like a cheap cigar and Kraff was quick to point out to anyone 
  that complained that he had stolen only the very best—the spoils 
  of war. 
  There were a few guests in the room as well. They hadn’t been 
  introduced to the Avengers command yet.  They stood out in that 
  their olive drab jumpsuits, while worn, were not nearly as faded 
  or patched as those worn by the Avengers. There were no signs of 
  old patches, pulled off as their affiliations and units had changed. 
  Some of his people had handmade their lance or company patch-
  es and wore them proudly. The elbows of more than one Avenger 
  uniform was threadbare.
  Archer’s people had been cobbled together from dozens of other 
  units and retired veterans, all answering the call to support Prince 
  Victor against his sister Katherine. While some had outdated uni-
  forms, a few still wearing their spurs of the Federated Suns, all 
  
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  had one thing in common—a desire to see the war brought to an 
  end, swiftly if at all possible. Archer was proud of the way they 
  looked. It wasn’t the uniforms that were important, but the men 
  and women in them. 
  General Christifori leaned forward over the holotable, putting 
  his palms on the edge of the three-dimensional map and leaning 
  on his arms, over the terrain. He tipped his head back and let his 
  gaze sweep the tight confines of the room. “First and foremost, let 
  me say how proud I am of all of you. We’ve fought our way across 
  the Inner Sphere to get here—at the right place, at the right time.
   “The Avengers have been given a unique and special honor. We 
  are going to lead the assault on Avalon Island. Our forces are to 
  be the first ones ashore in the final assault against Katherine’s 
  forces.” He didn’t expect a cheer. These were seasoned military 
  personnel. They had a pretty damn good idea of what they would 
  be facing if they led the assault. He did hear a few mumbles. 
  “For intelligence purposes, we’re officially being designed as re-
  serve elements of the Outland Legion,” he said, making eye contact 
  with each of his officers. Reaching into his right flank pocket he 
  pulled out a wad of Outland Legion patches. “Sew these on, pass 
  them out to the troops. Orders will go out to repaint our ’Mechs for 
  the time being with Outland Legion colors.”
  “Sir?” Kraff said, taking up the patch as if it was manure in his 
  fingertips. “Why all the cloak and dagger stuff? Outland Legion? 
  That’s crap in a can if I’ve ever heard it. They’re good and all, but 
  we’re the Avengers.” His words were met with more than one nod 
  of agreement. 
  Archer smiled. Pride in the unit was one of his cornerstones for 
  holding his troopers together. “Just relax. It’s temporary. When 
  the time comes, we’ll show Katherine our true colors. I can’t speak 
  for the rest of you, but I can’t wait to get her panties in a bunch 
  when she finds out that we’re here.” As if to add emphasis, he 
  winked at his officers who, in turn, took up the patches with a new 
  sense of purpose and chuckled at his response. 
  “The shortest distance between Avalon Island and our current 
  base of operations is Portsmouth. That will be our target. We will 
  hit the beach to the west of the harbor and city and drive inland, 
  sweeping back into the city and catching it from the rear.” As he 
  spoke, Archer triggered the animation on the holotable showing 
  where the landings would take place. A long red arrow swept in 
  behind the port city and punched into it from the rear flank. 
  
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  “While we secure the port facilities, the Sherwood Foresters 
  will punch in towards Reamuth and cripple the satellite relay sta-
  tion there. Katherine’s intelligence people will expect this kind of 
  surgical strike during the assault. The attack on this installation 
  will have the net effect of creating a four to five hour disabling 
  of Katherine’s capabilities to get downloads from satellites while 
  they reroute to secondary facilities.” The image of Reamuth ap-
  peared, nearly five kilometers inland from Portsmouth. It was a 
  short distance on the map, but the officers knew that it was a long 
  way to go. “For a while, they’ll be blind.”
  “Sir,” Major Gett of the Armored Company queried, “how long 
  until the rest of the invasion force gets on shore with us? If we’re 
  the beachhead, I assume that they’ll be right on our tails ready to 
  drive us back into the water.”
  Archer cast a glance at one of the visitors. “Major, this is a two 
  part operation. First part is us hitting and taking Portsmouth. 
  Phase two is best left to our guest. It is my pleasure to introduce 
  Kai Allard. Most of you are, I believe, familiar with his exploits on 
  Solaris a while back.” General Christifori waved his hand to the 
  officer who gave him a slow nod/bow in response.  The officers 
  turned to the stranger that had been standing with them and gave 
  him looks of acknowledgement and respect. Kai’s reputation had 
  easily preceded him. 
  “Thank you General Christifori,” Kai said in response, scanning 
  the officers. “The Outland Legion never looked quite this good.” 
  The officers laughed at his words. “To answer your question, 
  Major Gett, we will be following with the rest of the invasion force 
  four hours after your initial landing.”
  “Four hours?” barked back Captain Kraff. “Holy freaking cruds-
  tunk, might as well be four months. Those bloody damned troops 
  that Katherine has at her disposal are going to hit us with ev-
  erything they have. Landing in Portsmouth will be like kicking a 
  beehive. They’ll come from everywhere to pummel us back into 
  the sea. General, sir, you have gone out of your way in the past to 
  piss her off. She’s going to want your ass on her wall—sir.”  
  Kai nodded. “True enough. In fact, we’re counting on that.”
  “Sir?”
  “This is a two part operation, as General Christifori has point-
  ed out. The first phase is the Avengers leading an assault force 
  into Portsmouth and gaining the full attention of the defenders 
  
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  on Avalon Island. The second part is a deception campaign that 
  started several weeks ago. The Avengers are not the main blow of 
  the invasion, but a carefully crafted diversion. In the eyes of our 
  enemy, you are the spearpoint. We’re sending enough disinforma-
  tion now to the other troops to convince them that no one other 
  than General Christifori would be leading the initial landings.”
  “We’re bait?” the usually reserved Thomas Sherwood asked, his 
  eyes unblinking as he spoke.  
  Allard nodded. “In essence, yes.”
  “Crud,” Kraff added. “I like the sound of the word ‘diversion’ a 
  hell of a lot better than ‘bait.’” 
  “Regardless,” Archer cut in, knowing that the commentary would 
  wear on for hours if he let it. “From what I’ve been told, an intel-
  ligence operation has been running to paint our force, specifically 
  me, as the leader of the invasion. Most military people would as-
  sume the assault would come somewhere along the Portsmouth 
  coastline. Katherine’s defense is concentrating there. They are go-
  ing to be convinced that I’m the key leader in the field. They will 
  throw everything they have at us. They will attempt to shatter our 
  beachhead. 
  “Don’t kid yourselves, boys and girls; this is the reality of this 
  mission. We are going to be the biggest damn target on Avalon 
  Island. Katherine is going to come at us, at me, full force. She’ll 
  want my testicles on a platter. For four hours, we will draw their 
  fire, suck them in, let them think we’re a full-blown invasion. Then 
  the real invasion force will hit the other side of Avalon Island.”
  Kai jumped in. “We know that Katherine will respond to the real 
  invasion, but it will buy us the time to establish the real beachhead 
  and to set up the kind of defenses that are going to be necessary 
  for a campaign of this type.”
  Captain Kraff shuffled the cigar to the other side of his mouth. 
  “Don’t get this wrong, sir, but what happens to us while you all 
  pitch your tents and settle in?”
  “You’ll be extracted. DropShips and naval transports will come 
  in, pull the Avengers out. Portsmouth would be nice to have, but is 
  not necessary for the final operation. The beachhead on the other 
  side of the island is what is critical.”
  Captain Joey Lynn Fraser of the White Tigers spoke up. “We’re 
  just one regiment. It won’t take those people long to know how 
  
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  big we are. Once they figure out that it’s just one regiment, they’ll 
  know it’s a diversion, sir.”
  Kai waved his hand in the air. “Under normal circumstances, 
  you’re right. However, we have a few little surprises. First, we have 
  these MA generators. Magnetic Anomalies. They are small and 
  generate signals as if they are moving BattleMechs. The signals 
  on long range sensors appear as several lances of ’Mechs of vary-
  ing size. Properly placed and moved by infantry, they can confuse 
  an enemy into detecting a significantly larger force.”
  Archer spoke up as well. “We are also going to have some comm 
  units with us. They will generate simulated combat communication 
  traffic. From the sound of it, combined with some of the jamming 
  units we’ll deploy, and you’d swear that you’re facing five or six 
  regiments worth of troops. On top of that, our positions will be 
  urban in nature. Without a clear line of sight, it will be difficult for 
  even an eyewitness to tell just how big the force is.” He paused. 
  Most of his officers nodded their heads. Given the right circum-
  stances, the plan had a good chance of working. Battle, however, 
  often altered circumstances dramatically. 
  “How do we know that Katherine’s people will take the bait?” 
  Katya Chaffee asked. “I’m in intel and I have to tell you, it’s a 
  fickle business.”
  Kai offered her a thin smile. “I understand your concerns. We 
  know they are monitoring all of our actions and key personnel. 
  We are on New Avalon, after all. Your General Christifori will be 
  meeting with a number of other regimental commanders and oth-
  er leaders. News of this meeting here will reach them. We already 
  have double agents that have reported that they have already tak-
  en note of the fact that your units are undergoing major refit right 
  now. In fact, we’re going to spread counterintelligence that states 
  the General is definitely not leading the attack, knowing full well 
  that Katherine’s people will suspect that it is false.  
  “There’s more. Katherine knows that for Prince Victor to claim a 
  true victory, he must be true to this cause in the eyes of his people. 
  General Christifori is the perfect tool for that. He is from the Lyran 
  Alliance, making this less than an internal fight. He’s been harmed 
  by Katherine and has sought out justice—and made it public.  Our 
  own public relations people have played him up. It’s an easy story 
  to buy, and one we deny if asked—adding credibility to it.”
  “I guess,” Chaffee added. “The only real question is, will it work?”
  
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  “It had better,” a new voice added from the doorway. Entering the 
  inner tent dome was the short figure of Victor Steiner-Davion. The 
  air seemed to jump five degrees in temperature at the sight of the 
  Prince. Most of the officers had never seen him, or if they had, only 
  from a distance. The abrupt Kraff slowly pulled the cigar from his 
  mouth, the closest he got to a salute. “I trust fully that the Avengers 
  are up to the job we’re giving them. I assume you all agree?”
  There was a chorus of yes sir’s, barked out in unison. Victor gave 
  them a smile. He warmly patted several of the officers on the shoul-
  der as he made his way to the holotable. “We are going to go out 
  of our way to play up the minor role of the Avengers. But we’ve 
  made sure the supplies and gear you’ve received are the kind of 
  stuff we’d ship to a front line assault-unit. We know there are spies 
  in our logistics chain. They’ll get the word out to Katherine. 
  “As far as anyone outside of this room knows, this operation is 
  not happening. You are to tell your personnel that your role in the 
  invasion will be as a strategic reserve. Their spies will pick that up 
  as well and will assume that we are trying to deceive them.” 
  Katya smiled. “Oldest trick in the book. Get someone to believe 
  what you want by denying it.”
  “We’re counting on it working,” Victor added. “Even my visiting 
  here today to speak with you is something that is likely to have 
  been observed and reported. Don’t kid yourselves, there are en-
  emies watching everything we do. We just have to learn to turn 
  that to our advantage. And trust me when I tell you, there is more 
  that we are going to do to convince my sister that this is indeed 
  the primary assault. By the time we are done, she will think of 
  Portsmouth as the most important target on the island.”
  Archer smiled. I’m counting on it too. All of us are counting on 
  this being successful. If it’s not, we’re dead. “So there you have 
  it—our role. You have the backing and support of everyone on the 
  staff of the Prince and of the Prince himself. Is there anyone here 
  that believes we cannot pull this off? Anyone here that doesn’t 
  want to jerk Katherine’s chain just one more time?”
  “No. We’re behind you, sir…Sire,” Kraff added, giving the prince a 
  glance. There were nods all around, confident nods. Even the usu-
  ally reserved Katya seemed to grasp the eloquence of the plan. 
  “Excellent. Well then, it is New Years and we’re on New Avalon. 
  Next year, it and all of the Alliance and Suns will be free!” he add-
  ed. There was a cheer around the holotable, one that even Prince 
  Victor joined. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
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  Field Marshal Simon Gallagher was Champion for Katrina Steiner-
  Davion, Archon-Princess of the Federated Commonwealth. He 
  wielded incredible power but at the same time served at her whim, 
  and there wasn’t a moment that they were together that she did 
  not remind him of that. 
  Despite his loyalty, he knew that he was always one mistake 
  away from termination. He had wanted many times to correct her 
  use of her own title; the Federated Commonwealth was gone—a 
  memory—but he said nothing. Best not to make waves. Men like 
  Gallagher were not allowed to retire or walk away from their mis-
  takes; they took them to their graves. 
  The conference room was dark, lights dimmed so that his holo-
  graphic slide show in the center of the briefing table would show 
  up better. It made reading Katrina’s face difficult at best. It was 
  just another ploy on her part to keep him off balance, this much 
  he was sure of. 
  “What is Victor planning?” Katrina asked from her seat, elevated 
  slightly higher than the others in the room. “And don’t rattle off 
  facts and figures, Simon, I want your assessment.” There was a 
  hint of bitterness in her voice. 
  “Highness,” he said, clearing his throat, “W\we cannot ascertain 
  for sure what your brother’s plans are. But our experts in military 
  analysis believe that he will strike at the Portsmouth region, per-
  haps at the city itself.”
  “Why do you think that?” queried a smoother voice, that of 
  Jackson Davion, the leader of Katrina’s military forces. 
  “Distance and facilities-wise, it is the most logical location for 
  establishment of a beachhead.”
  “And Victor will lead the assault,” Katrina added.
  “Not necessarily, Highness,” Simon replied. He saw her eyebrow 
  cock at his words. Yes, this was something she had not planned. 
  “Remember my reports a few days ago about the Outland Legion 
  being reinforced?”
  She nodded curtly. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
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  “Well, it appears your brother was attempting to mislead us. It 
  was not the Outland Legion at all. Our agents have discovered that 
  the unit there is Archer’s Avengers—the First Thorin Regiment.”
  She clenched her teeth and said nothing.  
  “More important, our recent intelligence operatives in Victor’s camp 
  indicate that he has placed a high degree of emphasis on General 
  Christifori and his Avengers.” He tapped the remote control for the 
  holographic display and the image of Archer Christifori appeared in 
  the middle of the table, a giant floating holographic head. 
  “Christifori?” Katrina asked, half-spitting his name. “Him again? 
  You’d think that Victor would be tired of sharing the spotlight with 
  this man. Isn’t it enough that he lured away that traitorous cousin 
  of mine into keeping his units out of the fighting?” The reference 
  to Adam Steiner’s ordering a portion of the Alliance to stand down 
  from the civil war was not lost on the small gathering. Katrina’s 
  ranting about the incident was legendary in the palace corridors. 
  “You told me he was on Graceland.”
  “As we thought he was. It was a ploy, just as is Victor’s failed at-
  tempt to hide him right in front of us as part of the Outland Legion. 
  Once again we have penetrated his veil.”
  “Hopefully not too late,” she added. 
  “Indeed, Highness,” Simon replied. “We are wise to not underesti-
  mate him. He was responsible for luring Snord’s Irregulars from their 
  contract with the Alliance. He has been a thorn in our side for some 
  time. And he has been meeting three times a day with Prince Victor 
  and his staff. These may be indications that he is the leader of the 
  first wave of troops. What few assets we have in place show him to 
  be conferring on strategic issues—things we’d expect to see from an 
  invasion leader. We’re confident that Victor will be with the landing 
  forces, but our intel points to Christifori leading the assault.” 
  “Why him?” Jackson Davion asked. 
  “He has a grudge against the Archon-Princess,” Simon said care-
  fully, knowing he was on thin ice. “He claims she is responsible for 
  the death of his sister.”
  “I’d never even heard of him until the last two years, let alone his 
  tramp-sister. What he thinks means nothing to me. He is simply a 
  tool, a pawn in Victor’s hands. What would I care about someone 
  like him, a junior officer at best?” Her voice rang with contempt as 
  she waved aside the allegation. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
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  “I understand, Highness,” Gallagher replied. “Nevertheless, the 
  accusations have been made and they have played well with the 
  media. Adding to this, one of our operatives has learned that the 
  holotable in his command tent has been used recently to go over 
  terrain in and around Portsmouth. This only adds fuel to our belief 
  that it is the target area.”
  “A ruse perhaps?” Jackson added. “Victor has proven himself 
  a formidable military leader. He could be fooling us, fooling your 
  people, Simon.”  Unlike Katrina, there was no venom in his tone. 
  “I can’t rule that out,” he replied. “But you asked me my thoughts 
  and I have provided them as best I can. Our experts believe that 
  General Christifori will lead the assault in the Portsmith area. Victor 
  will use him as a tool to show that this is a war, in his eyes, for 
  justice. He’s become quite media savvy and will play that against 
  us to take the hearts and minds of the citizens here on Avalon 
  Island.”
  Katrina rose from her seat and all eyes fixed on her in the dimly 
  lit room. She stared at the holographic image in front of her. As 
  she rose and closed with the image, Simon could see her the an-
  ger in her face. “Very well, Simon. Portsmouth is the assumed 
  target. We shall send in additional troops there—not many, but 
  enough. If you’re right, they’ll buy us time. If you’re wrong, I want 
  to be prepared for defense elsewhere. For your sake however, I 
  would not be wrong…
  “And as for this General Christifori,” she said waving her hand at 
  the hologram. “I want him dead. When his broken body is shown 
  on the newscasts, it will shatter the morale of Victor and his peo-
  ple. Let him see what happens to those icons that are held against 
  me. In fact, Jackson,” she said turning to her General, “I want you 
  to assemble a team to do just that. When they come ashore, kill 
  this Christifori…no matter what the cost.” 
  
  BATTLECORPS
  The Longest Road • Page 21
  Chapter Three
  Portsmouth, Avalon Island 
  New Avalon, Crucis March 
  Federated Suns 
  24 March 3067
  As the DropShip Little 
  Sorrell swung wide of 
  the landing zone, Archer 
  double-checked the ten-
  sion on the five-point 
  security strap of his 
  cockpit. His BattleMech, 
  a Penetrator, had been 
  rebuilt so many times 
  that he wondered just 
  how many of its compo-
  nents were original. Do 
  I really want to know? 
  It didn’t matter really. 
  It didn’t matter that it 
  was built by the lowest bidder either. What did matter was that he 
  was armed with replacement Clan weaponry, captured in a previ-
  ous lifetime when he had been in the Revenants, serving with the 
  Prince.
  His urban paint scheme of grays and blacks covered up the tem-
  porary insignia of the Outland Legion, replacing it with his own 
  regiment’s markings again. If they fought, it was going to be under 
  their own names. 
  There was a comfort in fighting under his own colors. It was like 
  being in a familiar chair. 
  Back then he had been a young wide-eyed officer, hell-bent for 
  leather. He had fought the Clans, won, and then retired. War was 
  gone to him. Then the loss of his sister. Her killer, pardoned by 
  Katherine Steiner-Davion, had killed his only remaining family 
  member and then paroled the man that had committed the crime. 
  Since then all he had lived for was wrapped up in the events that 
  were to follow this day.
  The downfall of Katherine Steiner-Davion.
  
  BATTLECORPS
  The Longest Road • Page 22
  “Katya,” he said on the command channel. “I show us closing in 
  on the LZ. Are you set and clear?” In their efforts to confuse the 
  enemy even more, Katya Chaffee had drawn a critical role. She 
  was not a MechWarrior by trade, but today would be piloting a 
  ’Mech. It was a big one, hopefully safe for her.
  “Roger that, General,” she came back in the speakers in his neu-
  rohelmet. “I’m showing us on drop-stand-by. I’ve got this beast 
  ready for action. I sure hope you picked the right person for this.”
  Archer allowed himself a chuckle. “It’s got to be safer than pilot-
  ing a command vehicle out there.” 
  “You’d think,” she replied. Archer suddenly heard a metallic grind-
  ing and saw the drop door in front of his Penetrator open up. Dirt and 
  dust were kicking up. He could make out the forms of the cliff-tops 
  where the landing zone was located. In the distance was the out-
  lined shapes of Portsmouth City about a kilometer away. Warning 
  lights came on in his cockpit. Yellow—prep for debarkation.
  He switched to the channel for the rest of the command com-
  pany. “Avengers, stand by for deployment.”
  The light went green. The safety harnesses came free on his 
  Penetrator and he tapped the foot-pedals. The gyro feedback was 
  stable as he leaned forward slightly. They were in the right place, 
  that was for sure. “Alright, Avengers, standard deployment, just 
  like we practiced. Recon lance deploy to the north, command to 
  follow.” 
  He stepped out onto the ramp and in three steps was on Avalon 
  Island. Almost immediately he heard the familiar ping and thump 
  of small arms fire slapping his BattleMech’s torso. Pivoting at the 
  waist, Archer saw the source, a small building near the LZ. Infantry, 
  huddled inside, were firing at him despite the odds.  
  Waste of perfectly good infantry. He brought his pulse lasers 
  online and using his joystick, swept the targeted reticle onto the 
  small building. Archer didn’t wait for a weapons lock. Hitting his 
  secondary target trigger, he unleashed a burst of crimson energy 
  bolts into the building. The small stone and brick structure seemed 
  to pop. Smoke and steam rose from the debris. It didn’t stand a 
  chance, nor had the men hiding in there. 
  “Sit Rep,” he queried on the command channel. 
  “Sir, we’ve secured all five LZ’s,” came back Katya’s voice. We 
  are showing indications of substantially more troops present than 
  
  BATTLECORPS
  The Longest Road • Page 23
  we anticipated. Saber Beach LZ reports that two companies of 
  troops, ’Mechs and armor attempted to swarm their LZ upon land-
  ing. Similar reports coming in from the White Tigers at Halo LZ.”
  “Sounds like someone knew we were coming,” he replied, mov-
  ing his Penetrator out to deploy. The Little Sorrell’s turrets were 
  firing at some targets off in the distance, too far for him to make out 
  even with the visual enhancements of his T&T system. Whatever it 
  was, it was firing back at the DropShip, no minor accomplishment. 
  Maybe our little bluff worked after all. 
  He switched to the broad command channel and set his comm 
  unit to scramble. “Specter One to Avengers,” he snapped as he 
  angled further away from the DropShip. “Move out to your as-
  signed targets. Be warned, we are getting signs of reinforced 
  troops in the area.” He then sent an encoded message back to the 
  command post near Portland for Prince Victor and his people. 
  “Red Rover, Red Rover.” 
   Jackson Davion stared at the multiple reports scrolling by his 
  screen. The map of the area showed the landing zones. Five, pos-
  sibly six. Multiple reports of deploying ’Mechs. Despite moving in 
  the reserve 4th Avalon Militia, a unit mostly made up of reservists 
  and veterans, it was clear that something was going on in Portland 
  and that they were facing the invasion of Avalon Island.
  Possibly…
  Behind him, arms crossed defiantly, Katrina Steiner-Davion 
  stood brewing. “So, Jackson, is this it or some sort of ruse on the 
  part of Victor?”
  Jackson didn’t look at her; he kept his eyes focused on the re-
  ports. “Someone is hitting Portsmouth, which is what Simon had 
  predicted. It seems to be multiple regiments, but right now there 
  is a lot of confusion. We’ve tossed in the 4th Avalon Militia, which 
  is wreaking some havoc with whoever is landing there, but we 
  can’t be sure if this is a diversion or the real McCoy.”
  “Well, troops are deploying. Isn’t that enough?” Her tone was 
  demanding, it always was demanding. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
  The Longest Road • Page 24
  Jackson didn’t waver. “If it’s a diversion, Highness, it could have 
  us shifting troops that we need elsewhere.”
  “You’re my Marshal of the Armies. What do you recommend?”
  “Patience,” Jackson replied. “Until we are sure.”
  The Militia Gallowglas swept behind the water reservoir tank just 
  as it fired off its ER PPC. Archer winced as the bolt of blue energy 
  stabbed outward at his Penetrator. The shot went just a little wide 
  of his right leg, but an arc from the blast of manmade charged 
  particle burst seared the paint on his knee joint. A small residual 
  arc of blue electrical charge danced up the thigh of his ’Mech. Too 
  damn close. 
  Archer swept the opposite direction and brought his medium 
  pulse lasers on-line to the second and third target interlock cir-
  cuits. The Gallowglas had gutted a Hitman from his command 
  company, leaving it a smoldering heap tossed into the side of an 
  apartment building. He had been chasing it for ten minutes and 
  was not about to lose it now. As the Gallowglas rounded the far 
  side of the water tank, Archer locked on half of his pulse lasers—
  three of them—and fired. 
  The shots were not aimed at the militiaman, but at the base of 
  the water tank. It was a city reserve tank, probably for fire control. 
  He didn’t want to target it, but this was the final fight. Now was not 
  the time to hold back. Katya will castigate me for this afterwards. 
  The crimson bolts stabbed at the thin metallic skin of the tank and 
  suddenly it collapsed. The rush of water was nearly 20 feet tall and 
  slapped into the side of the Gallowglas. The MechWarrior fought 
  the sudden imbalance, but it hit the side of his left leg with such 
  force it was almost impossible. He fell sideways into a ten-story 
  office building, sending a shower of glass and metal raining down 
  onto the street below. 
  General Christifori didn’t hesitate. He unleashed the remaining 
  pulse lasers at the suddenly stationary target. The scarlet bursts 
  of light stitched the frontal glacial plate of the round cockpit. At 
  first they seemed to do no damage at all, then the cockpit popped 
  like a balloon. It imploded under the burst and instantly charred 
  black inside. Smoke billowed from the holes made by the laser 
  
  BATTLECORPS
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  bursts, wisp-like, marking the end of the ’Mech. The heat in his 
  cockpit had risen slightly, enough to make him start to sweat for 
  the first time in a few minutes. 
  “Scratch that tally-ho I called,” he said on the comm channel. 
  “Roger that,” came back Katya’s voice. “We just managed to 
  drive out that Demon tank that was pulling the hit and run. Chalk 
  that up to the White Tigers. Fraser has the MA devices running. 
  Anyone scanning this area of the city without our filters is going to 
  think that we have another twenty ’Mechs running around here.” 
  “I wasn’t planning on this militia,” Archer said as he angled his 
  Penetrator down a wide boulevard. Some small arms fire, mostly 
  manpack PPC’s, danced out ahead three blocks, signs of another 
  firefight. 
  “Orders sir?”
  “Let’s give them something to see. Katya, deploy into the city. Let 
  them see you,” he said. 
  The ’Mech appeared a few moments later. He saw it first on his 
  tactical display. It was massive, a Daishi. Lumbering down the 
  street, in its blue and white paint scheme complete with silver 
  piping, he saw it approach and felt the streets rumble slightly 
  under each thundering footstep. The plan had been to deploy the 
  ’Mech and a few other decoys. This one was special, and Katya 
  was piloting it. 
  The ’Mech was painted to look exactly like the one piloted by 
  Prince Victor. 
  “Got you on my scopes,” he said.
  “Roger that,” she replied, firing a burst down the street in the di-
  rection where he saw fighting. Apparently from her angle she had 
  a shot. “Looks hot down there.”
  “Yes, it does. You head down that street, I’ll take your flank. Let 
  that enemy infantry get a good look at you before you open fire. 
  Then blast them.”
  “Why the pause?”
  He juked his Penetrator out to the middle of the open street for a 
  better angle as he watched a missed short range missile snake into 
  the air, run out of propellant, then drop into the side of a building, 
  blasting a hole in the fifth floor. Flames lapped up from the hole. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
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  “I want them to have time to signal their command that Prince 
  Victor is on the field. Then they need to be put down. You have a 
  war to win,Highness.” 
  He heard her chuckle. 
  Jackson Davion stared at the image that was being relayed from 
  the suburb of Portsmouth. That was the ’Mech—that damned 
  Daishi. Prometheus. He had seen it before, studied the images 
  from other battlefields. Too many other battlefields. It meant 
  something. Victor. He was there, in Portsmouth. Reports from his 
  sentries and infantry troops with scanning gear indicated there 
  was at least three regiments operating there, possibly more. 
  Yes, it could be deception. That was why he had called in Simon 
  Gallagher. 
  “So, is that him?” he asked, stabbing his finger at the freeze-
  frame image of the massive BattleMech. 
  “I have reports of a highly painted up and modified Centurion 
  leading the strike on our satellite relay facility at Reamuth.” 
  “Yen-lo-wang?” Kai Allard’s deadly ’Mech.
  “If the reports are accurate, and I have little reason to doubt them,” 
  Gallagher replied. “Taking out that facility is the kind of mission that 
  Victor would send his trusted friend to lead, don’t you agree?”
  Jackson said nothing for a moment. Instead, he stared at the 
  image of Prometheus looming on the holographic display in front 
  of him. He wanted to believe that this was a diversion, a ploy. But 
  it appeared to be a direct assault. Moving in the Fourth Avalon 
  Militia had stalled the assault, bought him time to confirm who it 
  was. Victor, Christifori, and the others had been in the city for an 
  hour now. There was still time to drive them into the sea. 
  “Final recommendations, Simon?”
  The older man flinched. “I believe this is the main assault.”
  “So do I,” Jackson replied. That is what makes me nervous. “Very 
  well.”
  
  BATTLECORPS
  The Longest Road • Page 27
  “What are you going to do?”
  “What I’m supposed to do: my duty. I’m sending our front-line 
  units straight at Portsmouth. I will crush them because if I don’t, 
  Victor will do the same to me.”
  Archer pivoted at the waist. There was a slight metallic grind as 
  his Penetrator performed the maneuver, the result of a piece of 
  armor that had been splayed back from a barrage of missile hits. 
  Smoke rose from several places over Portsmouth, black, churning, 
  rising high into the air. The streets had been chewed up from the 
  feet of ’Mechs and the carnage of battle. Craters pockmarked the 
  ferrocrete all around where he stood, some still spilling out gray-
  ish white smoke. 
  “Sit Rep,” he commanded.
  Thomas Sherwood’s voice came back in a crackle in his ear. 
  “Forester’s company reports that Reamuth is green.” Green, as in 
  obliterated. 
  “Losses?”
  “Too many. The Militia may be a hodgepodge unit, but they were 
  tough. I’m down a full lance sir. Falling back in good form to the 
  city now.”
  “How’s the new ’Mech?”
  Sherwood chuckled, a rarity for him. “Let’s just say I always 
  wanted to try out the arenas of Solaris. This was the next best 
  thing. I just wish my nephew had a holoimage of me in the cockpit 
  of this beast.”
  Another voice cut in. “This is Ranger One,” came back the ragged 
  voice of Captain Kraff. “Militia units have fled the city. I’ve lost half 
  of my company either down or dead. You’d think the Militia was 
  trying to tell us to leave or something.”
  Major Gett came on line. “Second Battalion losses are less, 
  we’re running at 20% down. I’m pleased to report our sectors are 
  secure sir.”
  
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  Archer punched up the tactical monitors. “Okay then. If we’ve 
  done our job they are going to be coming for us any time now with 
  everything. Get the sappers out. I want the main avenues of ap-
  proach rigged with mines, traps, everything we brought with us. 
  Clear out your fields of fire and establish fire zones. Get the artil-
  lery deployed at their assigned sectors and get your fire control 
  teams in place.”
  “Do you think it worked sir?” Major Gett asked. 
  “I sure as hell hope so,” he replied. “Otherwise this was the big-
  gest waste of troops and material I’ve ever seen.” 
  
  BATTLECORPS
  The Longest Road • Page 29
  Chapter Four
  Portsmouth, Avalon Island 
  New Avalon, Crucis March 
  Federated Suns 
  24 March 3067
  The artillery rounds ripped apart the street at his ’Mech’s feet, 
  raining chucks of ferrocrete into the bird-like legs of the Penetrator. 
  Water surged up from one of the holes, an obvious hit on a water 
  main, the cold water seemed to hiss and steam as it hit his legs—a 
  warning as to how hot they were. 
  The artillery had been dropping all over Portsmouth. The spot-
  ters were either not in place or doing a bad job of directing fire. 
  Many buildings had been hit, many streets had been so badly 
  mauled that they were impassable. It would be some time before 
  life in Portsmouth returned to normal. 
  Archer turned slightly and brought the targeting reticle down on 
  the advancing Watchman. It was already battered somewhat from 
  fighting its way into the city, but was still a dangerous threat. A 
  millisecond after he heard the tone in his ears from the target lock, 
  he hit the primary TIC.
  The heat in his cockpit soared as the emerald green beams 
  lashed out from the captured Clan ER lasers his Penetrator mount-
  ed. Both shots hit the Watchman in its left side. The beams cut like 
  knives slicing through hot butter, searing through the armor plat-
  ing on the ’Mech as it tried to advance. The Watchman stopped for 
  a moment mid-gait and seemed to quake where it stood. Archer 
  knew that was an indication of ammunition cooking off deep in 
  the torso of the ’Mech. It rocked in place for a moment and a thick 
  cloud of gray smoke churned out of the cuts from his lasers. The 
  Watchman’s MechWarrior had managed to save his ’Mech, but ap-
  parently no longer had a taste for the fight. He limped off to the 
  right, taking refuge behind a building. 
  The sweat stung in the corners of his eyes inside of his neurohel-
  met as Archer walked through the rising column of water from the 
  blasted water main in an effort to get a better angle. No joy. The 
  Watchman had limped out of line of sight. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
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  He stared at his tactical display and did not like what he was 
  seeing. Reinforcements from three different Davion regiments, all 
  loyal to Katherine, had hit Portsmouth. The only saving grace is 
  that they had not coordinated their attack as well as they could 
  have, but had come in as they had arrived—albeit from different 
  directions. Apparently Jackson Davion felt that it was more impor-
  tant to hit them than to wait and coordinate. His third and second 
  battalion had stubbornly been forced to give ground in their sec-
  tors, but they still held the waterfront port. 
  First battalion had suffered three waves of attack; the Watchman 
  had been the last element of that third wave. Losses had been 
  high, but they had only dropped back three blocks—three painful 
  blocks. Most important to Archer was the time it was taking for 
  the attackers. Just over three hours had elapsed from the time 
  of the start of the battle for Portsmouth. In another hour, the real 
  invasion would begin. 
  “Katya, how are you doing?” he asked. 
  A sigh came to his ears, a weary sigh. She wasn’t normally a 
  MechWarrior. Katya had been injured in her career and had been 
  relegated to commanding from a vehicle. Only recently had she 
  been pressed once more into a cockpit, this time playing the role 
  of Victor Steiner-Davion, piloting a duplicate of Prometheus. “I’ve 
  got one leg that is just about gone and have been hit just about 
  everywhere else. I’m coming up on your flank right now,” she re-
  plied. 
  He looked over at the ’Mech and saw scars of black laser and 
  pockmarks from missile hits. “You’ve looked better,” he managed 
  with a wry twist of humor.
  “You’d almost get the idea that these folks have something 
  against the Prince.” Her voice rang with sarcasm. 
  “Right,” he said, his attention suddenly turned to his tactical 
  display. The approaching red dots on the tactical overlay of the 
  monitor was not going to be good news. “I’ve got a lance of ban-
  dits closing down the street in front of us,” he said.
  “I’m painting them too,” she replied. 
  “Let them close in,” he said. “The sappers will take care of at 
  least the lead elements.” 
  “Affirmative,” she replied, sweeping her Daishi into line next to 
  him. Together they stared down the street. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
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  The enemy ’Mechs came. Painted with urban camouflage, the 
  lance of four ’Mechs were led by two mediums, both Nightsky’s. 
  Behind them, almost in formation, were a Salamander and a 
  Gunslinger. None of this was good news. They were fresh, ready 
  for a fight, and were rushing straight at them. The Nightskys were 
  closing rapidly down the street, moving with precision down the 
  corridor between the 10-20 story buildings on either side. 
  A rumble came, and at first he thought it might be thunder even 
  though he knew differently. The street quaked, but it was the build-
  ings on either side of the two lead Nightskys. The sappers had 
  planted explosives in them, very carefully. He had reluctantly given 
  the orders for them to lay waste to the city this way—it was neces-
  sary, bitterly so. The blasts had knocked out the structural supports 
  on either side of the street. The buildings seemed to lurch towards 
  each other and hit in the air above the charging BattleMechs. 
  For a moment, Archer wondered if the leaning buildings were 
  going to hold each other up, each preventing the other from falling. 
  They didn’t. Gravity won. The thousands of tons of debris plowed 
  straight down into the Nightskys. Both tried to outrun the trap, but 
  there was no hope. The debris hit the ’Mechs hard, cutting off the 
  two assault ’Mechs behind them. A rolling cloud of gray white 
  dust churned up and visually blinded Archer’s Penetrator. 
  The airborne dust seemed to linger forever, even though Archer 
  was sure that it was just a minute or two. He relied on his sensors 
  to tell him what was out there, if anything. The collapsing of the 
  buildings wasn’t the only trick he had up his sleeve, it was just the 
  most spectacular. He was also counting on the fact that the en-
  emy would keep coming at him. They want us out of here. In their 
  minds, we are the only threat on this island. 
  The Nightskys were history, but he picked up the faint magnetic 
  reading of the assault-class ’Mechs moving on the far side of the 
  debris-filled street. He tried to get a lock on them but the inter-
  vening mountain of building rubble blocked a clear shot. Archer 
  watched the tactical display and saw they were moving around, 
  attempting to turn his position. Their move was obvious—if the 
  path to him was blocked, they were angling to get down the street 
  that Katya faced. 
  “Specter One to Brain,” he beamed over on the direct channel. 
  “You’re going to have company shortly.”
  “Tracking that already,” she said. Archer moved his Penetrator 
  off to her side. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
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  “Let them come,” he added. There was good reason. His street 
  was not the only avenue that had been booby-trapped. 
  Archer didn’t have a clear line of sight yet, but he knew they had 
  come into range. Katya’s Daishi, painted identically to that of the 
  Prince, rocked under a wave of 40 long-range missiles. The General 
  reeled for a moment. Yes, the Daishi was a huge ’Mech, but for a 
  moment he was unsure how anything could have survived such an 
  attack. Smoke enveloped Katya, black, churning, sick smoke. Red 
  and yellow flames lapped through the smoke. Archer waited. If she 
  was out, he’d feel the grind of her ’Mech falling onto the street. 
  The fall didn’t come. 
  Instead, through the smoke, he watched her side-step towards 
  him. She fired, her weapons pod fitted with a Gauss rifle. The 
  slug was so fast that it looked like a bolt of silver light, firing down 
  the street where the missiles had come from. The arm recoiled 
  slightly from the launch. Archer didn’t see the results of the shot. 
  He moved his Penetrator even closer to Katya’s side. 
  The pair of assault ’Mechs were two blocks away, rushing 
  forward like a tidal wave. Katya fired another nickel slug down 
  range into the Gunslinger, hitting it in the right arm. The arm of 
  the Gunslinger twisted backward under the impact, tossing ar-
  mor plates. The Loyalist ’Mech didn’t stop. In fact, its stride only 
  slowed slightly, as if it was hesitating, but only for a second. 
  As they charged forward, they fired. The shots came down the 
  corridor of buildings with full force and fury. One Gauss rifle slug 
  burrowed deep into Archer’s left side with such force that he 
  rocked back in his seat and felt his ribs ache under the restraining 
  straps. A burst of lasers slashed across Katya’s chest, splattering 
  globs of melted armor, like drops of mercury, into the air. 
  Archer dropped his sights on the Gunslinger and locked on. He 
  fired, first the Clan-made lasers, then half of his pulse lasers. They 
  hit the Gunslinger square on, most in the torso and legs. Armor 
  popped off and danced down the street. The ’Mech came on. 
  The Salamander didn’t wait. Another wave of missiles fired, a 
  literal wall of warheads. Katya started to move the massive Daishi 
  as if to dodge them, but it was to no avail. A few missed, racing 
  past her ’Mech and further down the street. The vast majority hit 
  her, blasting at her cockpit, torso, and legs. The flames seemed 
  to linger, to hang on to the ’Mech. Archer sucked in a breath and 
  hesitated like he had never done in combat before. No…not her. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
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  The Daishi started to topple. She fired a gauss slug down range 
  into the Salamander, a snap-shot, one that seemed to be on target. 
  It struck the Salamander at the right knee so hard that the Loyalist 
  ’Mech contorted to the side and glanced into the side of a building. 
  Glass shattered and rained down onto the street from the running 
  blow. The Salamander was still charging. 
  Right into the mines. 
  The mines had been hastily hidden, concealed in hovercars on the 
  street with trip lines carefully laid. Most were not even mines but 
  ad hoc booby-traps, explosive laden cars. They went off, first one, 
  then another. The Salamander was lifted by the concussion of the 
  blast, tossed in the air slightly but appreciably. Its footing slipped 
  mid-stride and the MechWarrior was obviously struggling to keep 
  upright. It was a losing battle. Archer could see that the armor on 
  its left leg was all but gone. Myomer strands, severed in the blast, 
  snapped and hung outside like torn muscle tissues. The Salamander 
  hit the ground at almost the same time as Katya’s ’Mech. 
  Her Daishi dropped face forward, grinding into the pavement 
  with a sickening metallic moan. Archer winced. Katya was down. 
  Smoke billowed from half a dozen holes from the missile hits. 
  “Specter One to all commands, Brain is down. Send backup,” he 
  said as he locked onto the closing Gunslinger. Its six lasers lashed 
  and pulsed out at him, a lightshow of green beams and brilliant 
  red bursts of light reached out at his Penetrator. Several shots 
  missed, but not nearly enough of them. His Penetrator seemed 
  to scream from the impacts as armor melted and cut free from 
  internal supports. A ripple of heat, suffocating, wrapped his body. 
  Damn you!Damn you all to hell. 
  He fired. Not just one target interlock, but all of them. His ER 
  lasers lanced out and caught the Gunslinger square on. The pep-
  pering crimson blasts from the medium pulse lasers seemed to 
  hit everywhere. He knew that at least one of the shots missed, 
  but most found their mark. The Gunslinger, its barrel chest puff-
  ing white smoke and a slick green streak from a severed coolant 
  feed, still ran forward. The heat was searing in his cockpit as his 
  chest sucked it in. It burned, it hurt, it reminded him that he was 
  still alive. 
  Archer glanced over at the Daishi. It wasn’t moving. No. It had to 
  move. She had to be okay. She had been with him from the start. 
  He was rocked suddenly from a hit to his leg, a gauss slug. It hit 
  with a cracking sound, like a wet towel being snapped by his ear. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
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  The Gunslinger was sixty yards away and slowing, readying for 
  the kill. He looked at his damage display and saw the red and yel-
  low warning lights, indications of the damage that he had taken. 
  Far too much in the red. 
  Jabbing at the foot pedals, his Penetrator moved slowly, awk-
  wardly. It was as if it was fighting him as much as the Loyalist 
  ’Mech. The heat was playing havoc on it. He took a wobbly step 
  forward and made sure he was still locked on target. 
  He waited what seemed like a lifetime for his ER lasers to recycle 
  and recharge. Without even looking, he toggled one of them to 
  the primary TIC and fired. The cockpit became an inferno. It didn’t 
  matter. If he cooked, he cooked. What was important was taking 
  down this ’Mech. 
  The shot hit, barely, cutting from the right ankle of the Gunslinger 
  upward to the thigh. It left a black steaming scar, sick, deep, hot. 
  The Gunslinger was slowed as well. It aimed its Gauss rifles for 
  another cycle. 
  They fired. 
  One shot passed his cockpit by less than two meters, the air-
  blast buffeting him hard as it whizzed past. A millisecond later the 
  second one plowed into his left torso as if he had been punched 
  in the stomach. Archer lurched forward to meet the force of the 
  shot, but he couldn’t resist. The Penetrator that had carried him 
  through so many battles was groaning under his efforts. A red 
  warning light went off, flashing, a gyro hit. He contorted in his seat 
  as if shifting his own weight was somehow going to help. There 
  was a popping sound somewhere down under him, deep in the 
  bowels of the BattleMech. An audible moan filled the cockpit and 
  his neurohelmet. 
  The ground seemed to rush up at him. There was a sickening 
  thud, a metallic ripping sound. His head slammed into the cockpit 
  seat as he felt himself being tossed around. A warning went off, 
  but the sound seemed lost in the roar that filled his ears. Archer 
  looked out his cockpit, ignoring the thin crack up the middle. The 
  air was so hot that it was almost impossible to breathe. 
  Across the way, only 20 meters distant, was the fallen form of 
  the Daishi. He strained, stabbing at the foot controls. No response. 
  Before the darkness overtook him, his last thoughts were not for 
  his own safety, but that of Katya Chaffee. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
  The Longest Road • Page 35
  Jackson walked into Katrina’s office, the report in his hand. He 
  had gotten the feed only a few minutes earlier. Perhaps it was 
  the turn of luck for which they had been waiting. God knows they 
  needed it. 
  “What is it?” Katrina demanded. “Word from Portsmouth?”
  “Yes, Highness,” he replied. “I just got confirmation from a unit 
  in the city. The enemy still holds the city and the port facilities but 
  we are making headway. More importantly, your brother’s ’Mech 
  has been taken down.”
  “Victor, dead?” For the first time in a long time, Jackson Davion 
  saw the look of pure joy, almost twisted, in the eyes of the Archon-
  Princess.
  “We’re not sure. I had assembled a special lance to take out the 
  Prince and General Christifori per your request. Headhunters. 
  Both BattleMechs were taken down in battle but we were not 
  able to confirm the status of the MechWarriors. Victor’s people 
  overran the position a few moments after Christifori went down. 
  Unfortunately, all four of our MechWarriors were apparently killed 
  in the action.”
  “Acceptable losses if Victor is dead,” she replied. 
  Jackson said nothing. Not for the families of the men and women 
  that had been sent to their deaths. 
  “Can we send in other forces?” she asked, waving aside the 
  deaths. “We need to make sure that he is dead.”
  A knock came to the door followed by a military sentry. “Apologies 
  for the intrusion, Highness.”
  “This had better be important,” Katrina snapped. 
  “It is,” the adjutant officer replied. “We just got reports of an 
  invasion.”
  “We’re aware of that,” Katrina replied. “The situation in 
  Portsmouth has been going on for hours.” 
  
  BATTLECORPS
  The Longest Road • Page 36
  “Highness,” the officer said, obviously nervous. “These landings 
  are on the north end of the island. Initial reports show multiple reg-
  iments dropping in. Prince Victor has been sighted on the field of 
  battle. Kai Allard has been seen at the head of the Outland Legion, 
  driving off to form flanking positions.” The officer handed the re-
  port to Jackson Davion. His eyes raced through the materials. 
  “Impossible,” Katrina said, rising to her feet. “Victor is dead. 
  Christifori is dead. Allard is in Portsmouth.”
  Jackson threw the report onto her desk with what force he 
  could. “It’s not impossible Princess. As was my initial fear, we 
  have been duped. Portsmouth was a diversion. I’m going to pull 
  the Seventeen Avalon and Twenty Second Avalon Hussars out im-
  mediately to challenge these new landings. The Tenth Deneb will 
  need to be extracted from Portsmouth immediately and rushed to 
  the north too.”
  “But Victor.”
  “Victor has fooled us,” Jackson said. “It may have cost him 
  Christifori, but the cost was well worth it for him if he secures a 
  beachhead.”
  “Damn him,” she spat.
  Jackson said nothing. He simply saluted and turned. There was 
  much to do. The war had taken a whole new twist. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
  The Longest Road • Page 37
  Chapter Five
  Barrington, Rear Area Field Hospital 
  New Avalon, Crucis March 
  Federated Suns 
  25 March 3067
  His throat was so dry that it hurt as he gulped. Archer knew that 
  the smell he was catching, the whiff of chemicals mixed with his 
  own bad breath, meant one thing—he was in a hospital. For a mo-
  ment, he didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to know how 
  bad it was. 
  The last memories that he had were not good. Katya was down 
  and not responsive. An almost fanatical pair of ’Mechs were rush-
  ing them. There was fire. His Penetrator had keeled over, baking 
  him like an oven. It had been a long time since he had passed out 
  due to heat build-up, but the memories of it were never fond. 
  There was no point stalling any longer. His eyes were caked at 
  the edges but eventually opened. Yes, a field hospital. The white 
  curtain blocking his view was a clue. Shifting slightly in his bed, 
  Archer’s muscles ached but he felt all of his limbs. That was a 
  good sign. Turning, he saw an IV bottle hanging next to him. Yes, 
  he was alive, battered, baked, but alive. 
  What about Katya? 
  He rose slightly in his bed and was surprised that he could. The 
  privacy curtains on either side of him blocked his view, but at the 
  foot of the bed a nurse emerged. Wearing green fatigues under a 
  white smock, she moved in quickly to help him to a sitting posi-
  tion. “Take it easy, General,” she assured him. 
  “Situation?” he rasped, his voice barely audible. 
  “Relax, sir. Some of your personnel are here. They knew you’d 
  want a full briefing. I’ll get them.” The fact that she wasn’t hover-
  ing over him told him that his own situation was not serious. He 
  didn’t matter anyway. Archer’s real focus was his people, his com-
  mand. 
  Lieutenant Thomas Sherwood entered first, followed by Captain 
  Kraff. Both men looked alright, though Archer noted that Sherwood 
  had a bruise on his forehead that had to feel worse than it looked. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
  The Longest Road • Page 38
  The nurse returned quickly with a glass of water and a bent straw. 
  Archer took a long drag and the water stung at his throat. He 
  winced and was almost embarrassed by the gesture. 
  His voice had returned. “What’s the situation, gentlemen?”
  Sherwood spoke first. “Major Gett assumed command and 
  coordinated our extraction sir. Our losses are pretty significant, 
  currently we show less than 32% operational effectiveness. We 
  took one hell of a beating.”
  “The Loyalists took worse,” Kraff added. “A lot worse.”
  Thirty-two percent? The loss was staggering. Casualties and 
  damaged equipment would account for a lot of that, but it still 
  meant many good men and women dead. Killed under his com-
  mand. More blood on Katherine’s hands… “What about the 
  primary assault? Any word from the attacking force?”
  “Reports in from General Sortek, Kai Allard, and General Sanchez 
  all indicate that they have secured a strong beachhead on Avalon 
  Island with minimal losses. Fighting was rough, but a lot less than 
  if we had not made our diversionary attack.”
  “What about Colonel Chaffee?” he asked. 
  There was a hesitation. The two officers looked at each other. He 
  felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. “What is it?”
  “The Colonel was badly injured,” Kraff said, minus his usual 
  gruffness. “By the time we got to you, two ’Mechs were about to 
  grind you both into greasy spots on the ferrocrete. It was some 
  sort of headhunter lance; they fought right to the end. Damned 
  fanatics.”
  “How is she?” he pressed.
  Lieutenant Sherwood broke in. “She’s going to pull through, but 
  she’s pretty busted up sir. Her legs are broken—it looks like her 
  cockpit got pretty battered up. She was lucky that her fire sup-
  pression system kicked in or she could be facing severe burns.” 
  He paused for a moment. “She came around a few hours ago and 
  her first question was how you were.”
  Archer allowed himself a thin grin of satisfaction, if only for a 
  few seconds. “I need to get back to duty. We have work to do. 
  We’ve got to get the regiment back up to ready status in case the 
  Prince needs us.”
  
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  “General,” came a voice from behind the white privacy curtain. 
  A short muscular man stepped around the corner. It was Prince 
  Victor Steiner-Davion. “That won’t be necessary. You and your 
  personnel can stand down for now.”
  Christifori sat up a little more and gave him a salute, which he 
  returned. “Sir, what are you saying?”
  “General Christifori, the Avengers fulfilled their mission glori-
  ously. I came here to tell you that, and to thank you. If it wasn’t for 
  your efforts, we would have lost many more people. Your people 
  are tough as nails, tougher,” Victor cast a nod to the officers of the 
  Avengers regiment. 
  “You’re going to be held in reserve, but I’m hoping we won’t need 
  your troops any more. God knows they’ve done their bit for king 
  and country, as have you. But they’ve been rebuilt and refitted a 
  lot in the last few years. The Avengers have helped win us a signal 
  victory in the assault on Avalon Island. It’s time for some of our 
  other troops to finish this up.”
  “Sir, my men…” 
  Victor cut him off. “Archer, your troops are going to need you. 
  You’ve suffered substantial losses. Trust me when I say this, if we 
  need you, you and they will need to be ready. I’m just hoping it 
  won’t come to that.”
  “Sir,” Archer stirred in his bed. “I was hoping to be there at the 
  end.”
  “You are there, General,” the Prince replied. “But I haven’t for-
  gotten my word to you months ago. You’ll have to forgive my rush, 
  but I’m needed elsewhere. When the time comes, you’ll hear from 
  me. Until then, your orders are to get your unit patched up.” Victor 
  glanced at his chronometer and gave Archer a short nod. Archer 
  saluted. He understood. It took a great deal for the Prince to come 
  to the rear area when the fighting was still going on. It was a mark 
  of respect. I only hope I’ve earned it. 
   
   “Simon,” Katrina said, templing her fingers in front of her. Her of-
  fice went silent as she spoke, eerily silent. “You have let me down. 
  You have let down the whole of the Federated Commonwealth. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
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  Because of you, and your incompetence, my brother has been 
  able to land his troops on Avalon Island.”
  Simon Gallagher did his best to restrain his nervousness, but 
  Katherine could see it. A bead of sweat on the brow, a hand tap-
  ping on the arm of the chair. Good, he understands that his life is 
  on the line, Champion or no. “Your Highness, I have already sacked 
  the personnel responsible for this grievous error. From where I sat, 
  with the intelligence at hand, the landings in Portsmouth looked to 
  be the primary assault.”
  Katrina shot a glance at Jackson Davion, then back to her pet 
  Field Marshal. “We are far too pressed right now for me to try 
  and replace you, regardless of what I think of your competence, 
  Simon,” she fired back. “But know this, if Victor reaches this pal-
  ace, you have plenty on your files that he will find most amusing. 
  You will, as will your family. I will see to that myself. Do I make 
  myself clear?”
  For a heartbeat, Simon Gallagher said nothing. Staring at her 
  coldly, he understood the implications of what she was saying. For 
  him, there would be no endgame. “I understand you completely, 
  your Highness.” 
  “Good,” she replied. “Because this war is not mine alone. Everyone 
  loyal to me stands to lose everything should we fail here.
  “Everyone…”
  General Christifori stood beside her bed. Two IV bottles fed Katya, 
  keeping her alive and hydrated. The nurse had told him, advanced 
  neurofeedback. The hits had set off an internal explosion that had 
  sent a pulse of bio-electrical feedback into her neurohelmet and 
  right into her brain. It was the bane of a MechWarrior. The condi-
  tion was survivable, but painful. 
  Archer reached out and took her hand. It didn’t move. She had 
  been there with him from the beginning. In fact, it was her prod-
  ding that had convinced him to take a stand against Katherine. 
  Now she was lying here, in a hospital bed, because he had or-
  dered her into action. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
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  Damn.
  Archer winced. If she were awake, he knew she would be push-
  ing him, telling him not to waste time at her bedside. With Katya, 
  the cause had been everything. Taking out Katherine had been the 
  focus of her last few years. Injury would not stop that. 
  Christifori leaned over her. “I’m always counting on you to be my 
  conscious, Katya. Now you can’t. So what would you want me to 
  do?” He spoke in a low tone, almost a whisper. 
  No response came. He didn’t expect any. In his mind he heard 
  her talking. Heard her words. He nodded. “Alright then. Once more 
  unto the breech, eh?”
  He let go of her limp hand and turned away. Activating his comm 
  unit he signaled. “This is Specter One. What’s the status of my 
  ’Mech?”
  “Sir,” came a voice that could only be Major Gett. “Why do you 
  want to know?”
  “Major, I assure you I don’t need or want a lecture. What is the 
  status of my ’Mech?”
  “Sir,” she replied curtly. “Your Penetrator is little more than a 
  shell. It’s going to take two days and two teams to get it opera-
  tional. We don’t have any reserve equipment not allocated.”
  “Then get those teams to work, priority one,” he said. Turning he 
  gave Katya a glance. “Yes, my friend, I’ll end this thing once and 
  for all.”
  
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  Chapter Six
  Approaching the Davion Palace 
  New Avalon, Crucis March 
  Federated Suns 
  20 April 3067
  Sergeant Reed swung his battered Lancelot wide of the incom-
  ing missile salvo. The SRM carrier had unleashed a volley of death 
  and destruction down at his position at maximum range. The 
  stubby missiles twisted and contorted, raining down all around 
  him. His Lancelot quaked. Its right arm, already a mangled clump 
  of metal, caught three warheads, twisting it around even more. 
  A puff of white smoke popped out from the elbow actuator and 
  he watched as the metal and myomer stump dropped off to the 
  ground. The ’Mech’s weight shifted with the loss of the arm, but 
  he easily compensated. 
  Suddenly he saw something out of the right side of his cockpit. 
  It was a BattleMech and according to his tactical display, it was 
  friendly. The massive bird-like ’Mech was a dull primer gray color, 
  obviously repair armor plating. It stopped and leveled its massive 
  arms out for a shot. He watched as glowing-jade beams stabbed 
  out at the SRM Carrier. 
  The boxy little tank was easily in range and tried to make a 
  break for better cover. The beams sliced its flank armor, cutting 
  long black slashes. Reed watched as smoke, oily black, rose from 
  the rear hit. The SRM carrier lurched to a sudden stop. Hatches 
  opened and the crew began to crawl. The smoke seemed to come 
  from every seam, every crack, every hatch. Small wisps, then ten-
  drils of twisted darkness. 
  Then it blew up. 
  It was an orange ball of fire that engulfed everything around the 
  SRM tank. The blast was massive and over in less than a second. 
  The crew never stood a chance. Sergeant Reed was stunned at 
  what he had seen.  If not for the ’Mech, a Penetrator, arriving, he 
  might have been wiped out. 
  He stabbed his comm panel. “Whoever you are, thanks for the 
  assist.” 
  
  BATTLECORPS
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  A very solemn, almost calming voice came back to him. “The 
  Remagan boys are a tough unit. Watch yourself trooper.”
  “Who are you?” Reed asked. 
  “Christifori,” came back the voice. “General Christifori.” Suddenly 
  the Penetrator turned and ran off, obviously having detected an-
  other target. Reed sat in his Lancelot’s command seat, his mouth 
  hanging agape.  He had heard stories from the other MechWarriors 
  about Christifori. For the last few weeks, he and members of his 
  unit had been operating as an independent command. Word was 
  that Prince Victor had ignored the action. There had been rumors 
  that Christifori and a lance or two of ’Mechs had showed up at 
  several battles, the Avengers adding their fire in, almost always in 
  the nick of time, then disappearing. 
  Some of the men said that Christifori was sanctioned, that the 
  Prince was using him to help troubleshoot battlefield areas…a fire-
  fighting unit. Word was that his own regiment, Archer’s Avengers, 
  were being disbanded.  
  Reed had written it all off as rumor. Now he saw differently. 
  Christifori had appeared, saved his butt, then taken off. 
  Damn, I didn’t even get a chance to thank him. He realized that 
  his peers were never going to believe what had happened. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
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  Forward Observation Post 
  New Avalon, Crucis March 
  Federated Suns 
  22 April 3067
  The hovercar was a staff vehicle, bearing two fender flags. The 
  traditional flags of the defunct Federated Commonwealth had ob-
  viously been replaced with handmade flags. One was a white flag 
  of truce, the other was the single gold star above the symbol for 
  the Federated Suns—the sign of the Marshal of the Armies. Victor 
  stood in his MechWarrior’s shorts and tee-shirt, arms resting on 
  his hips as the car pulled up. The tiny flags stopped fluttering and 
  the door opened. A regal man rose from the back seat. His uni-
  form was pristine, his face was lean and tight. He was tall, and as 
  he looked at Victor he had to look downward. There was a famil-
  iarity between the men, genetic. It was in the eyes and cheeks. 
  The drive had been short. Prince Victor’s forces were just outside 
  of the palace itself. The broadband carrier transmission had called 
  for a cease-fire, which had surprised everyone on both sides of 
  the conflict. 
  Jackson Davion stepped forward and saluted Victor Steiner-Davion. 
  As he clicked his heels together, his spurs jingled. The gathering 
  crowd of officers circling the staff car were surprised by the gesture. 
  They were more surprised when Victor returned the salute. 
  “You called for a cease-fire, Jackson,” Victor said coolly. “I as-
  sume that your intentions are honorable and that this isn’t some 
  vain effort to buy you time.”
  Jackson’s face betrayed no emotions. “No ploy, Victor. Katrina…
  Katherine sent me here to negotiate the surrender of the palace.”
  Victor paused, glancing over at the man at his side, Kai Allard, 
  then to the other officers gathered.  As he returned his gaze to 
  Jackson Davion, he crossed his arms defiantly. “Our terms are un-
  altered. Unconditional surrender. Your forces must stand down, 
  surrender their armaments, vehicles and BattleMechs. Prisoners 
  not involved in war crimes will be paroled accordingly.”
  “I understand,” he replied. “I know that she will ask, so I must as 
  well. What will become of her?”
  Now Victor put on his poker-face. “I will be honest, Jackson, our 
  efforts have been concentrated on fighting the war. My plans for 
  
  BATTLECORPS
  The Longest Road • Page 45
  peace-time have been second-fiddle to our combat mission. I will 
  say this, though. She needs to be surrendered to my forces im-
  mediately. Personally.”
  “I do not think that will be a problem,” Jackson replied. “At this 
  point I think she expects that.”
  Victor nodded. “Her custody is important, Jackson. If you’d like, I 
  can send an emissary with you to take her under arrest. That is the 
  quickest way for us to ensure that no one else dies in this conflict.” 
  His words were not hollow. While a cease-fire was a in place, it 
  was perilous and any small incident could cause it to erupt in full 
  battle. The war was long and the emotions tied to it ran very deep 
  with the troops on both sides. 
  “I agree,” Jackson replied.
  Victor scanned the eyes of his officers gathered around the staff 
  car. Each and every one of them had earned the right to go. A part 
  of him wanted to be the one that went to Katherine himself. But 
  this was a political opportunity, a chance to restore the lines of the 
  Federated Commonwealth. 
  “General Christifori?” Victor called. Archer stepped forward. Like 
  Victor, he was donned in his MechWarrior gear. His tee shirt was 
  soaked in sweat, having just been pulled from the lines. 
  “Highness?”
  “I have one last assignment for you.”
   
  Katrina caressed the arms of the throne. Closing her eyes, she 
  could feel the arms of it in her hands. This was the place from 
  which her father had ruled. It was a Davion throne, a throne of 
  power. From this place, from this seat, the fate of the Inner Sphere 
  had rested. It was hers, but in a few minutes, it would not be. 
  I’ll be back…someday, somehow. 
  She heard the footsteps in the room on the marble floor. Slowly, 
  dangerously, she opened her eyes and saw the figures before the 
  throne. An officer, a General, in a dress uniform. It had obvious-
  ly been a last minute addition; his face still showed some of the 
  
  BATTLECORPS
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  grime of battle. His face was familiar, but she did not focus on it. 
  At least he was civilized enough to have dressed appropriately for 
  court. Next to him was Jackson Davion, her defrocked Marshal of 
  the Armies. 
  “I have done as you asked,” Jackson said formally. “Prince Victor 
  has offered no terms other than your arrest and unconditional sur-
  render. Given our current state, I felt compelled to accept.” She 
  noticed that he no longer addressed her as “Highness.” It was 
  already over—it had been so for some time. 
  “Very well,” she said, waving her hand as if to dismiss him and 
  his words. She rose slowly, almost wearily from the throne and 
  took a step down to the marble floor. 
  “May I present the emissary of your brother. This is General 
  Archer Christifori. General Christifori, this is Katherine Steiner-
  Davion.” Jackson had not lost his formality or dignity given the 
  circumstances. He waved his arm during the introduction as if 
  court were in session. 
  Christifori stepped forward. There was no bowing, no averting 
  of the eyes, no signs of respect for her authority. Yes, his face had 
  appeared different in the holodisplay images. He was less impos-
  ing. Victor’s public relations staff had done a good job. Katrina 
  stepped in front of him. “So you are Archer Christifori? Somehow 
  I was led to believe you’d be much more.” 
  His eyes met hers and for three seconds, said nothing. “Oddly 
  enough, I was thinking the same thing.”
  “I suppose Victor send you here to gloat?”
  “No,” Archer replied. “He chose me so that the media could get a 
  picture of me, a FedCom officer, leading you out of the palace. He 
  felt that the image would play well in the Lyran Alliance.”
  “According to my intelligence, you hate the media.” Her words 
  were coy, as if she were digging at his motivation.
  He offered her nothing but a poker-face stare. “I do. But this 
  one time I’m willing to bend even my own rules. I owe that to my 
  people.” 
  “Your people? You mean my people.”
  “They ceased to be yours a long time ago,” he responded. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
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  She ignored the entire line of argument. “That’s right,” she said 
  with a wry smile. You petty little man. “You lived on Thorin if I 
  remember correctly.” 
  “Yes.”
  “And you blame me for your sister’s death? How sad for you. I 
  never even heard of you or your sister. Your entire involvement 
  with this war was a mistake on your part. I didn’t kill her; I didn’t 
  even order her death. You’ve been fighting for no reason at all.”
  Archer’s face reddened slightly. Good, I got to him. “I’m not sur-
  prised that you don’t know her name. Petty tyrants often stomp on 
  people and never know the names of their victims. Yes, Katherine, 
  you didn’t order her death, but you pardoned her killer. In many 
  respects, that’s worse.”
  “Watch your words General,” she said bitterly. 
  “I will not,” he spat back. “You’re not a Princess any more,” he 
  snapped back. “You’re just a person. One that will be held ac-
  countable for her crimes.”
  “We shall see.”
  “Yes,” Archer grinned. Reaching down to his belt, he held up a 
  pair of restraints. “But that is the future. It is for people in pay bands 
  above mine to ponder. This is the present. For now, Katherine, put 
  these on and I will take you to Victor. You can discuss your plans 
  for the future with him. As of now, consider yourself under arrest 
  and susceptible to the military code of justice.” 
  She glared at the restraints. Handcuffs? Who does he think he 
  is?  “I will not put those on. I am royalty.”
  Archer said nothing. Stepping forward, he slapped them on her 
  wrists. The metal was cold and hit her left wrist bone hard. It hurt, 
  not much, but enough. “I assume you don’t want me to carry you 
  out of here for the media on my shoulder? Please—” he hesitated, 
  “please say yes. Nothing would make me happier right now.” 
  Her jaw locked in anger. She stepped beside him, lowering her 
  cuffed hands. He put his hand on the center of her back and led 
  her out of the throne room. He would pay for what he’d done. They 
  all will pay… 
  
  BATTLECORPS
  The Longest Road • Page 48
  Epilogue
  Ecol City, Thorin Militia Parade Grounds 
  Thorin, Lyran Alliance 
  15 September 3067
  Archer stood on the field inside the palace grounds and made 
  his way to the podium. He had been asked to take part in the cer-
  emony inside, but had declined. His job was done. There was no 
  need for the media to see his face.  In fact, he was looking forward 
  to the obscurity. I hope I can rebuild the family business…
  In front of him was what was left of Archer’s Avengers. They 
  stood at parade rest, perfect formation. Some were bandaged. 
  Some, like Colonel Chaffee, had to have help to stand even after 
  the months of recuperation during the trip home. She, like every-
  one else, had come to this place, for one last ceremony…one last 
  gathering. 
  “My friends,” Archer began, his voice hesitating and almost 
  cracking. “And you are my friends. We began this fight back on 
  our homes. We fought in the Lyran Alliance and even in the heart 
  of the Jade Falcons honor. We went to Twycross and tangled with 
  their best, plucking the wings right off of the Falcon Guards.
  “We all came for different reasons but for one common goal—to 
  end the reign of a tyrant. That has been done. There is no longer a 
  need for the Avengers, not now. Prince Victor has sent formal con-
  gratulations to us as a unit. We have earned our pay and earned 
  the respect of the people we left behind. Moreover, we’ve earned 
  the respect of the men and women who are no longer in our ranks, 
  those that died at our sides on the field of combat.” He paused, 
  lowered his eyes for a moment. There were so many. 
  “I was going to do a long speech,” he said, wadding up his notes 
  and sliding them off the podium, “but that isn’t necessary. What 
  matters is this: the Avengers are family. If called upon again, we 
  would serve. The time for service for most of us is now over. Some 
  of you are being offered positions in the Thorin FTM. For those of 
  you that take those commissions, I offer you the best of luck. I 
  would say, ‘make me proud,’ but you all already have. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
  The Longest Road • Page 49
  “But that is the future. This is now. Usually when a war is over 
  units like ours are disbanded. I have conferred with the Prince on 
  this. We are not breaking up. You can’t break up a family like us. 
  On the books, we will still be listed as active duty. The reason is 
  simple, there may yet be a time when the Avengers have to take 
  up arms. 
  My final command to you, all of you, for now, is go home. Put 
  this damn war behind us. Be with your loved ones. If you make as 
  good citizens as you did fighters, our people will always be proud 
  of you and so will I. Go to your families, return to your lives, but 
  never forget our time together. Never forget when a handful of 
  good men and women made a difference. 
  “Avengers, I salute you.” He snapped to a pristine salute. The 
  troopers went to attention and saluted back. There wasn’t a dry 
  eye staring back at him. The salt from his own tears stung at the 
  edges of his eyes. He didn’t let his voice waver despite the desire 
  to do so. Out of respect for those that faced him, he maintained 
  his last bit of control and restraint. Not just for them, but for all of 
  the troops he had commanded that were no longer alive, or were 
  in a hospital somewhere. They deserved a moment of dignity. 
  “Regiment,” he barked out. “Dismissed!” 
  The End
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/BattleTech [multi]/EXTRA/Novels/Battlecorps Novels/The Longest Road - Blaine Lee Pardoe.pdf