Ghost War

Janella’s Andrea ran seventy-five tons, which brought the Tundra Wolf up into the heavy class, but the way she could make it move you’d have thought it was an under-armored light ’Mech. Her ability to shoot and judicious use of long-range weaponry meant that she picked her enemies to pieces before they closed. By the time they got to her– if they got to her—their armor was so ragged that a well-placed shot could cripple them.

“I will admit, my lady, I do like this ’Mech a lot. Next time you come save me, bring it instead of that Black Hawk. And bring Andrea.”

She sighed. “I wanted to bring Andrea to Helen, but we had no reports of heavy weaponry being deployed. The Centurion was not a bad little machine. Against AgroMechs you don’t need much more.”

“Provided they don’t start arming them.”

“Good point, though the modifications needed to get them combat operational will be expensive.”

I didn’t reply to that comment because I knew where it would take us. On the train down from Santa Fe we’d gone over some of the material we’d been briefed on the previous day. Neither of us had slept well thinking about it all and the commoline between her billet and mine was fairly active, even though we’d agreed to sleep apart so we’d not be keeping each other awake.

Consuela or Victor, in their wisdom, had scheduled us for a run at White Sands. Because I am a Ghost Knight and keeping my identity a secret is important, I was sent down under an alias, with records that made it look as if I was Janella’s bodyguard. Since she is a Knight, they restricted the range, making it our private playground until whenever we were done. Anyone wondering why would assume it was at her request, and I’d go u

While allowances are made for Knights off on missions, I was actually two months overdue for my performance evaluation. Janella was more up-to-date, but was close enough to her due date to let her make the run when I did. I also suspected that some folks wanted to see how I would do in the new ’Mech, especially after the way I lost my last one.

The run was good for more than clerical reasons. White Sands is beautiful in a Spartan sort of way, but then I find deserts fascinating because they are so unlike the forests in which I grew up. The place was completely steeped in history, too, with the first nuclear bomb having been tested at Alamogordo, and I was pretty certain that placing a testing range for BattleMechs here had not been accidental.

And I knew the creation of the Boneyard definitely had not been.

I liked to think Stone had ordered it into existence, but I also saw the hand of David Lear in its creation. To the west of the testing center, between it and the San Andres Mountains, a cemetery for broken ’Mechs had been created. They came in every configuration and color scheme, from every House, Clan and mercenary unit I’d ever heard of. Legless ’Mechs rested on their sides or backs. Others stood there with broken arms resting at their feet. On more than one occasion the ’Mech’s battered head lay on the ground or sat askew atop pitted and chipped shoulders.

Stalking past it I always felt a chill ru

When I’d first come here an old MechWarrior guiding me out to the range taught me a rhyme whose authorship was lost in antiquity. “As you are, so once were we. As we are now, you shall someday be.” Every one of those ’Mechs had been piloted into combat by someone just like me. They’d had the myth of their invincibility proven a lie one day. Some of them lived to profit from the experience, but many more paid a fearsome price for it.

Looking at them now I realized I still clung to the idea that I was not going down. That was ridiculous, after all, since I’d been shot out of my last two ’Mechs—Maria being an exception. Digger’s going down had been a wild ride, but little more. The other ’Mech, well… I squinted but couldn’t quite see its twisted carcass amid those roasting in the sunlight.

We guided our ’Mechs into the hangar and crawled out of the cockpits. A tech came over to me with a noteputer and had me sign off on various forms. She smiled at me and I wondered if the clerk who’d fixed my room in Santa Fe was a cousin of hers. “We’ll be getting the name painted on her soon, sir. You sure you want Ghost?”

I nodded. “That’s it.”

She frowned for a moment. “Not a good omen. Why would you want it?”

I shrugged, peeling off my cooling vest in the same motion. “Prince Victor Steiner-Davion’s unit in the Clan war was called the Revenants. Revenants are Ghosts. Maybe some day I’ll be good enough to have been a Revenant.”

“You pilots.” She shook her head, but her broad smile didn’t die. “You want it, it’s done. I’ll even make sure they do a good job with the painting.”

“Thanks.” I gave her a nod, then cut along the catwalk to Janella. She finished signing off on her forms and beamed a smile at me. “My score puts me in the ninety-eighth percentile for those tested this year.”

“Good. My score indicated I have a future in a service industry where if I do anything more than shoot someone a nasty glance I’m overmatched.” I traced a finger along her jaw, then leaned in and kissed her.

She smiled. “Now that was directly on target.”

“It was a ranging shot. Should I fire for effect?”

Janella blushed, then hooked her arm in mine. “First, my dear, we are going to get a lot of water to rehydrate, and some food. Then we are going to shower.”

“But the showering facilities here are segregated, my dear.”

“Pity, true.”

“And if we do that, by the time we’re done…”

She smiled. “Yes, the train back to Santa Fe will be here. And we’ll have to think of something to do to occupy our time heading back home. This shouldn’t be a problem unless you don’t think you can hit a moving target.”

“Only one way to find out.” I covered her hand with mine and squeezed. “And if I can’t, I’ll just have to practice.”

“Indeed, Mason.” Her eyes flashed. “Good thing it’s a long ride.”

As rides go, it wasn’t long enough. Janella and I managed to find an unoccupied cabin in first class and locked it using certain override codes I knew. Laboring in obscurity as a Ghost Knight is not always fun, but it does occasionally have its perks.

Our arrival back in Santa Fe had been anticipated. Inside the station we docked our noteputers and got complete updates of news and our schedules. We could have done this at White Sands or even on the train, but having the information would have been a distraction and, as I have learned, when practicing to perfect skills, eliminating distraction is vital. Focus. It’s all about focus.

Luckily, our superiors did not want us to report for more briefings. I wasn’t certain if this was because they wanted to give us time off, or if they were just too busy sorting wheat from chaff so that we went u

She glanced over at me from her noteputer. “You remember that di

“My mouth is watering already.”

She gave me a quick smile, but it shrank pretty fast. “My parents came in from Zurich. The good news is that they want us both to join them. Kind of a preholiday di

The bad news was self-evident, and pretty much ran along the same lines: they wanted us to join them. Her father, Thomas, is a Knight and, while not a warrior, his simply requesting we join him and his wife for di