"Major Loren," he said finally. "I will serve you as your bondsman."
"Excellent, Bondsman Kerndon. Tell me, then, what units defend this planet?"
Kerndon closed his eyes, as if not wishing to see what he must do. "You face the Tau Galaxy, the Huntress Galaxy."
Loren looked over at Captain Lovat, who quickly began tapping queries into his noteputer before shaking his head. "We're unfamiliar with this Galaxy. Is it new?"
"Affirmative."
"What is its strength?" Major Craig asked.
Kerndon did not answer but only glared at the Fusilier officer. He slowly turned his head back toward Loren.
"You didn't answer his question," Loren said. "You don't want to betray your former Clan—is that it?" Hadn't he experienced the same conflict over his allegiance to his former unit, the Death Commandos? Letting such feelings go, Loren knew, was not easy.
"Neg," Kerndon responded. "You defeated me fairly in a fight and I survived. Rather than kill me as you should have, you have decided to keep me alive. By the rede of my people, I am your bondsman—not his. I am not bound to honor him by treating him as a true warrior. Only you and those who are your superior—unless you so dictate."
"I don't have to take this kind of lip from him!" Craig sputtered, moving toward the bed, as though ready to pummel the already wounded Clansman. Major Blakadar and Captain Lovat held him back, blocking Craig with their bodies.
Loren looked down at Kerndon, who did not even tense in response to Craig. "You will tell me then, what is the composition of this Tau Galaxy?"
"The Galaxy consists of two full combat Clusters, the 101st Attack Cluster and the 250th Assault Cluster. There is a partial cluster assigned to the Galaxy as well, the 25th Strike."
"Two and a half clusters, eh?" It was a small Galaxy, but that still gave the Jaguars vast superiority over the Fusiliers. "The forces that engaged us were the result of bidding, I assume?"
"Aff," Kerndon replied almost lifelessly. "What unit won the bid against us and what is their exact composition?"
"The honor of the bid was awarded to Star Colonel Roberta of the 101st. My Binary was one of three included in the bid. Another two partial Trinaries were assigned as well."
"Do you know what the next step of her plan is?"
"Neg. I was not privy to that. My unit was allowed to engage the survivors of our fighter attack because we were close to your drop points."
"Where was your Galaxy to be assigned?" Loren pressed.
"Our exact destination was not revealed to us at this time. The Galaxy Commander is in the process of determining appropriate targets."
"You were going to be used against the Combine then?" asked Sho-sa Parkensen, but Kerndon would not look at him.
"Kerndon, you will answer," Loren commanded.
"We were not going to fight the Draconis Combine, not at this time. Our target was one that has drained us of our honor and dignity as a Clan."
The realization hit Loren squarely. "You were going to be deployed against the Nova Cats?"
Kerndon nodded slowly. "Aff." Loren knew about the longtime animosity between the Jaguars and the Nova Cats. It was why he wanted this Smoke Jaguar warrior on his side. He had a plan that was beyond bold and daring—perhaps not even feasible. Only Kerndon could tell him whether it had any hope of success.
"Kerndon, what would happen if we were to travel to the nearest Nova Cat base and tell them the Smoke Jaguars have a Galaxy of troops here who were going to be used against them?"
Kerndon surprised them all by chuckling at the question. "The Nova Cats would open fire on you without hesitation."
"But the Smoke Jaguars pose a great threat to the Nova Cats, especially a Galaxy poised to wage war against them."
"I fought the Nova Cats once while still in the sibko. They are odd people with odd customs, but they are Clan. They have seen how little honor exists among the freebirths of the Inner Sphere. They know that your people do not hesitate to stoop to trickery to win a battle. They would assume that you were attempting to lure them into a trap and would consider such an act a breach of honor. Thus, they would treat you as honorless bandits and destroy you."
"Can you think of any way to get them to listen to what we might have to say, to convince them that we speak the truth?"
Kerndon paused for a moment, pondering the possibilities. "Neg. If I were the Nova Cat commander, I would not trust an Inner Sphere unit telling me such a tale, no matter what evidence you might present to me."
Damn! So much for the easy path. "Is it safe to assume then that the Nova Cats would be interested in the Smoke Jaguar presence here?"
Kerndon nodded. "Aff. The Nova Cats would consider our presence here a present danger to their supply line back to the home worlds."
Major Blakadar spoke up, surprised by the premise Loren had posed. "You're not proposing that we show up on the Nova Cats' front porch, are you?"
That and even more, Blackie. Sometimes the message was not as important as how it was delivered. "If this Tau Galaxy were to attack the Nova Cats, what would be their response?"
Kerndon shook his head and shut his eyes as if frustrated by the question. "The question is irrelevant, Major Loren," he replied, making strict use of Loren's first name only. A Bloodname was the highest honor among the Clans, each one a surname that could be traced back to the Clans' Star League origins. "You will not be able to get them to launch an attack on the Nova Cats as long as your Fusiliers are here."
"I will determine what is relevant, Bondsman," Loren said, emphasizing the last word. "You will answer the question to the best of your ability."
Kerndon's eyes flared again, but he suppressed his anger, maintaining his composure. "I misspoke, Major Loren. To answer your question, the Nova Cats would see one attack as a mere raid, nothing to pose a threat to them."
"It would take several attacks to get their attention—to get them to mount a counterstrike?"
"Aff. They are a Clan that is driven by their visions and spirit quests. Where the Smoke Jaguars are sensitive to threats, the Nova Cats display a patience beyond comprehension. It would take more than one attack by the Smoke Jaguars before they responded with a counterattack."
"Do both Clans know the locations of each other's bases?"
"Aff, but they would only have a list of probable targets. It would take more to guide them to our base. Their knowledge of the Smoke Jaguars' bases would help them eliminate which ones could support a Galaxy, but they would be forced to search the Galaxy out."
"Unless a trail was left behind," Loren said softly to himself as his mind worked over the plan he had begun to formulate earlier. He smiled suddenly. "If the Nova Cats were to arrive here and find us and the Smoke Jaguars, which would they attack first?" It was an answer he thought he already knew.
"They would attack the Smoke Jaguars, of course."
"Of course?" Colonel Stirling asked, not understanding. "We would be a common enemy to both Clans. Why wouldn't they simply unite against the Fusiliers?"
Loren answered before his bondsman, his excitement growing. "Colonel, the Clans see us as inferior because we are mercenary. They would attack each other and fight an honorable battle between themselves before they waste time on us."
Stirling pondered his words for a moment, then her own face lit up with understanding. She caught Loren's eye, and he saw that she grasped what he was driving at.
"It's so simple it's brilliant," she said to Loren just loud enough for the others to hear.
Major Craig broke in. "I don't get it. What does any of this have to do with us beating the Jaguars?"
"Everything," Loren replied. "All we have to do is get the Tau Galaxy to attack the Nova Cats at several of their bases. The Cats will mount a reprisal strike force, come here, and fight the Jaguars for us. Whichever side wins, we mop up."
Kerndon shook his head. "Galaxy Commander Devon Osis will launch no strikes against the Nova Cats until the Fusiliers are eliminated."
"That's t
he beautiful part of this plan," Loren continued. "This Devon Osis won't have to order the Jaguars to strike at the Cats. We will be the attack force posing as the Smoke Jaguars."
15
Fusiliers LZ, Bay of Kurita Prime
Wayside V (Wildcat)
Deep Periphery
3 July 3058
"What?" came the voice of Sho-sa Parkensen. "How can your Fusiliers pose as a Smoke Jaguar unit?"
"We've recovered a Binary's worth of Clan OmniMechs," Loren said. "Mitch Fraser and his crews are working on them, and should be able to get most of them up and running. Paint over the repairs, use the transponders and comm channels right, and no one can tell we aren't Jaguars."
"I've never repaired any OmniMechs before," Mitch Fraser spoke up.
Loren laughed softly. "Mitch, you can repair anything once you put your mind to it."
Major Kurt Blakadar rubbed his chin in thought, looking off into space, then back to the group. "It might just work. If you think about it, we could've told the Jaguars we were the Gray Death Legion and how would they have known otherwise?"
"That's right," Loren said. "We can tell the Nova Cats anything we want when we make the batchall."
Kerndon rubbed his forehead where it was bandaged. "It is not that simple. The Clans track bloodlines and genetic traits as well. If they can see your face during the batchall, they can verify whether or not you are a Jaguar. Based on your traits, they will see that you are not."
"Then we just don't show our faces," Captain Lovat said
before Loren could.
Kurt Blakadar rubbed his chin in thought. "There are still a million things that could go wrong with this plan. I'd want to work out the big kinks before having to decide if this is a suicide run or our best shot."
"Fair enough," Loren replied. When push came to shove, Loren knew that Blackie, of his two fellow Majors, would forget petty politics and do whatever was best for the Highlanders. Craig was stubborn enough that he might let his personal resentments cloud his better judgment.
Major Blakadar continued. "Half our DropShips are grounded, thanks to the Clan fighters. Maybe permanently. With that destroyer hanging in high orbit, how would we get our hypothetical Jaguars out to the jump point?"
Colonel Stirling's face tightened. "That's an important question, Major, and one I want to take up with our Drop-Ship captains once we're done here. It's still only a part of our problem, though." She turned to Kerndon. "Tell me, Star Captain, if you were this Devon Osis, what would you expect us to do next?"
"It is not the Galaxy Commander you must concern yourself with. Star Colonel Roberta won the bid to destroy you. Devon Osis will observe and offer comment, but in the end it is her prowess you must test against."
"Okay, then what can you tell us about her?"
"She is unlike any warrior you have ever faced," the Clansman said slowly, his expression flickering between fear and respect.
"We're Northwind Highlanders," retorted Cullen Craig. "That means we're not afraid of anybody."
Kerndon shook his head. "Star Colonel Roberta is pure Smoke Jaguar. I have seen her in combat, Colonel Andrea. You have not." He had turned away from Craig and back to Stirling, still refusing to utter the surnames of those around him. "She will move like a tornado. When she hits, there will be no stopping her. She will drive through your forces no matter what the odds."
"Tough lass, eh?" Stirling said, giving Loren a quick wink. "I look forward to kicking her ass."
"She specializes in headhunter missions," Kerndon said, ignoring Stirling's comment. "Using her light Stars to penetrate an enemy's perimeter and take out their command staff."
Headhunter units. Loren felt a chill at those words. An Inner Sphere commander would attempt to knock out communications and command facilities. But here was Kerndon suggesting that the Smoke Jaguars, particularly this Star Colonel Roberta, would simply go for the jugular by attempting to wipe out the opposing leadership itself.
"If I were Roberta, I would expect you to be entrenching and fortifying your position in preparation for my attack. And I would strike here, hoping to kill you all. Take off the head and you destroy the body. With the rest of your troops either inexperienced or disorganized, I could wipe them out later at a time and place of my own choosing."
Colonel Stirling put her hands on her hips. "You don't know me, Kerndon, but my people don't call me 'The Cat' for nothing. It's not for my fine looks, but for my tenacity. Thanks to you, I hope to give Star Colonel Roberta something to remember me by.
"What if it looked like we were mounting our own attack instead of retrenching. What might she do then?"
"She will come at you swiftly with everything she has rather than let you attack her first. She will strike without fear, and crush your throat with her powerful jaws. There will be no battle lines. Her forces will plow through your ranks and use the confusion to their advantage."
Colonel Stirling weighed his words. "And if we just sit here and wait?"
"It changes nothing. Star Colonel Roberta is a Cluster Commander of the Smoke Jaguars. Though defeating an Inner Sphere foe does not offer great honor, it would still give her the opportunity to prove her skill and prowess to her commanding officer. Destroying you quickly and cleanly would give her an edge in future bidding for the right to participate in the destruction of the Nova Cats."
Stirling looked over at Major Craig, who had favored digging in, then back to her regimental intelligence officer.
"Captain Lovat, how fast could the Jaguars be on top of us if they moved their light 'Mechs at full speed, full throttle?"
The younger officer licked his lower lip as his fingers flew over the noteputer keys. "Their Koshis and Dashers could hit us first. And if they pushed their power plants to maximum, they could be on us in less than forty-eight hours."
"Sir," Captain Fraser cut in, "as chief tech of the regiment, I've got to tell you that even Clan equipment can't just run full bore like that. 'Mechs are tough but have to be maintained. In all honesty, sir, they'd be wearing the bejesus out of those 'Mechs, moving at top speeds like that. Their power-plant linings and gyros would take days to get realigned once the battle was done, not to mention the accelerated wear on the actuators."
Kerndon stared at Mitch Fraser with distaste, apparently annoyed that a mere tech would speak up in the midst of a discussion by warriors. "You do not know the Clan way. Wear and tear are not the concern; victory is what matters. She would push them because she must as a warrior, plain and simple."
Loren looked around at the other officers. "Well, then, we know we've got less than two days before we can expect an attack by the Jaguars. When they do come, they'll be gunning to kill everyone here, trying to knock us out and leave the rest of the regiment easy pickings."
Loren turned to look at Colonel Stirling, locking his eyes to hers. "We know we can't leave Wayside—we simply don't have the capacity to get the entire regiment off planet. But if we stand and fight, we'll be wiped out, no matter how good we are.
"I say our only hope is to outfit a unit of fake Smoke Jaguars and use them to lure the Nova Cats into following us back to Wayside."
"Clan Nova Cat can devour us just as easily," Sho-sa Parkensen said.
Colonel Stirling looked over at the PSL. "I understand your apprehension, Sho-sa. But I see no other bloody damned alternative. All things being equal, the Jaguars will defeat us no matter what we do. I never thought I'd see the day, but it's true. And it's just a matter of time. Yes, Major Jaffray's plan is risky, to say the least, but at least it offers a chance."
"It will bring death to us in the end," Parkensen said gloomily.
"Maybe so, but one thing is fer sure, laddie," Cat Stirling said, slipping into her Scots burr. "The Smoke Jaguars will rue the day they tangled with the Northwind Highlanders."
16
Fusiliers Mobile Command Post,
Bay of Kurita Prime
Wayside V (Wildcat)
Deep Periphery
4 July 3058
Wayside V seemed even more eerie now than when Loren had known it only from the maps and intel. The regiment had dropped onworld in the middle of a thunderstorm that had finally stopped. With the fog that followed, the twilight of Wayside's twenty-eight-hour day took on the greenish glow of the planet's sky.
Colonel Stirling had moved fifty kilometers to the east of the DropShips, wanting to keep up the illusion that the regiment was on the move. She hoped to protect the DropShips as a fall-back position, in case things went dramatically wrong. The ships' turrets were still operational enough to provide support fire if the Fusiliers were forced into a retreat. Given the odds, Loren thought that was a real possibility.
Standing outside the portable command dome waiting for the unit's three DropShip captains to arrive, Loren wished he had more time to spend with Star Captain Kerndon. Despite all his intense study of the Clans, things the man was telling them showed how much Loren still had to learn. The Clan idea of honor, for instance, still mystified him, though there was something seductive—alluring—to him about the code Kerndon lived by.
As he watched the Bombardier hover vehicle making its way toward the Fusilier command post, he thought about the decisions they still had to make. The Clan WarShip looming in high orbit seemed like an insurmountable obstacle, but Loren wondered if the true threat didn't lie in the heart of their own ranks. Between the two of them, Major Cullen Craig and Sho-sa Elden Parkensen seemed inclined to hinder any operation they might hope to pull together.
Chastity Mulvaney's words came back to him as he realized he was facing exactly the kind of situation she'd predicted. Internal politics. Backbiting. Jealousy. It was obvious that Cullen Craig was operating out of personal animosity, and suddenly Loren felt envious of the Clans. Were I Kerndon, I would simply call for a Circle of Equals and beat some sense into his head.
Elden Parkensen, the Combine PSL, was just plain stubborn. He had yet to thank Loren for arriving and rescuing his unit from Kerndon back at the Retribution"s crash site. Like Kerndon, Parkensen was the product of a society that glorified the warrior tradition. Perhaps he too harbored notions that the only way to prove himself was by death in combat.
Impetus of War Page 12