Above them, against the door and ceiling, there was a bumping and thumping, like something big was stomping its feet. That big crab-bird, Jessie bet.
“So,” said Grandpa, looking down at Jessie.
Jessie looked up at him, looking like a giant in the dim light, and pulled herself to attention.
“Mission accomplished, sir,” she reported.
GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
by Michael Stackpole
Ford, Bolan Province
Lyran Commonwealth
25 December 3027
“T’was the day of Christmas,
And all through the sector,
Not a BattleMech was stirring,
Not even a tractor.”
Cadet Nelson Geist shook his head. “God almighty, Nelson, you’re a horrible poet.”
He dutifully tried to keep his mind on patrolling, but on Christmas Day that was almost impossible. The Techs had put a tinsel garland around the inside of the windscreen on his Phoenix Hawk and had hung red and green balls from instrument panel latches. Had they had the time, he was pretty sure the ’Mech would have gone out painted red with white trim and a big white beard, but it didn’t because the Techs wanted to be home with their own families. They had, however, managed to make a huge bow out of red plastic and plant it on the ’Mech’s head, which made the machine look a bit festive.
The decorations did make him feel good. As he was going to be entering his final year at the Nagelring—the Lyran Commonwealth’s premiere military academy—he had been assigned to winter semester training with Gregg’s Long Striders. The Striders had progressed nicely since the 3025 assessment that had listed them as a green unit. When the Fourteenth Lyran Guards were temporarily assigned to Gienah after the 3027 Galahad exercises, Ford became the Striders’ domain.
He arrived barely a month before Christmas and he had found the unit cordial but very wary. As a young unit, they were sensitive about having some academy-rat show up and try to tell them how to do things. Nelson knew that wasn’t his job, nor was it something he desired to do. He was there to learn and did his best to earn the other warriors’ respect.
He figured out almost immediately that an easy way to do that would be to volunteer for the Yule patrol. The day was normally split up into three-hour watches, with one BattleMech being assigned to a different sector. Nelson signed himself up for two patrols back to back and even ended up accepting another. Since his family was hundreds of light years away on Kooken’s Pleasure Pit, he had no one to celebrate with anyway, so taking duty was easy for him.
More important to him, though, was the chance it gave him to log some serious hours in a Phoenix Hawk. From the time he was a young boy he had found the very name of that ’Mech magical. He had read countless stories of battles in which the humanoid BattleMechs had performed heroically. The large laser held in the right hand provided long-range firepower, while the medium lasers mounted in each arm were good closer in. The Phoenix Hawk had twin 12.5mm machine guns in each arm for keeping infantry and light vehicles suppressed.
The main thing that had intrigued Nelson about the Phoenix Hawk was its jump jets, which allowed the machine to make crucial tactical advances and retreats during battles. If not for those jets, Davion Phoenix Hawks would have fallen to Liao Crusaders at Lee II and the Liao invasion would never have been turned back.
Nelson marched his Phoenix Hawk on through Alpha sector. The weather had turned cold and a light dusting of snow covered the whole area. “Christmas card weather,” he had remarked to Lt. Lukens when Lukens checked him out on the Phoenix Hawk. “When you’re at home in front of the fireplace, I’ll be out here enjoying the view.”
Lukens had not offered to change places with him, which didn’t surprise Nelson at all. Even though the Phoenix Hawk had been in Lukens’ family for two generations—his grandfather had taken it as a prize in the battle for Loric in 2971—Lukens preferred to spend the time at home with his bride of three months. Having seen the Leutnant’s wife, Nelson couldn’t fault the man’s choice of holiday diversion.
Nelson focused again on the viewscreen and saw nothing across the long, snow-choked meadow. He had been told that there was really nothing for him to worry about while on patrol. If House Marik was going to mount an assault they would spend four days coming in from the jump point around the sun, so there would be ample warning about the invasion.
“Of course, he could face Anti-Nick and the Elves from Hell,” Bronson, his Tech, had chided Lukens. “He’d love to find Cadet Geist here in your Phoenix Hawk and all alone.”
Tom Lukens shook his head. “Not likely.”
Nelson raised an eyebrow. “Anti-Nick?”
Bronson smiled. “Yeah, there’s a group of bandits who have, from time to time, gone raiding on Christmas. Response time is low, lots of loot can be had. They’re two Locusts and a Jenner centered up around a BattleMaster. A-Nick is the BattleMaster’s pilot. He speaks in rhyming couplets—a real nutcase. They have mostly raided far to the south, but…”
Lukens waved Bronson’s concern away. “Some folks think they’ll head north because the Fourteenth Lyran Guards are gone and the bank over in Harrison became a Commonwealth depository. They’d be nuts to try anything around the base here.”
Nelson smiled. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled. If I see them, I’ll send out an alarm.”
“Good, we’ll all be ready to respond. If you see them, stay away from Anti-Nick and just track them. Good intel is better than a dead ’Mech.” Lukens gave Nelson a friendly shot in the arm. “Especially when that ’Mech is my ’Mech.”
“Message received and understood, sir.”
Nelson glanced at the heat monitor. It was still down in the cool range, which he expected given the cold outside. He knew that in combat the jump jets, weapons and maneuvering would cause heat to build up quickly. The targeting
