"I will grant you this in the name of the great Jaguar." He reached over and keyed several of the control studs in the covered tip of the Galaxy Baton. "May your next bid be more accurate."
"Thank you, Galaxy Commander." Roberta turned to the communications officer, her grin almost devilish. "Contact the Dark Claw. Order them to close and engage the Fusilier DropShip. Destroy it."
* * *
"Shouldn't we launch, Captain?" Loren asked in a low tone.
"Physics, Major," Spillman replied, looking at a larger tactical display on the nearby wall that showed the course and movement of the DropShip. "Wait a minute or two until that birdie has picked up a wee bit more thrust. Once she's in motion, even a warbird like that canna be diverted quickly. I want her committed, then we're out of here."
Loren understood, but he wondered how much of what Captain Spillman was doing was based on gut feeling and how much on hard tactical data. "Any word from the Claymore?"
The comm officer nodded and adjusted the ear pieces of her headset. "She's picked up the destroyer and is slowing slightly. The Claymore is ten minutes from her drop point. Damage from the OmniFighter attack was moderate."
There was a long pause as everyone on the bridge looked at the larger tactical display on the port wall of the bridge. Captain Spillman did not seem impressed, but squinted his eyes several times, trying to read the small numbers of the tactical sidebars. Indeed, he was so relaxed he took out a pair of reading glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief. Loren looked over at the comm officer, who only smiled in response. It was obvious that little seemed to shake the Bull Run's new captain, and his crew knew that.
Spillman's order came without any warning, without any change of facial expression. "Load main operations navigation program and initiate course vector. Fire main engines, launch profile Gamma. All hands, general quarters, red alert."
Loren couldn't help but smile himself. The game's afoot...
* * *
"Message from the Dark Claw," the comm officer said loud enough for Star Colonel Roberta to hear. "Infrared sensors have detected the launch of another DropShip. Its flight path is perpendicular to theirs."
"Impossible," Roberta said in disbelief. "It must be a ruse."
A moment passed. "Neg, Star Colonel," the office replied. "Star Captain Chrisholm requests you specify a target."
Roberta looked over her shoulder at Devon Osis, whose face showed concern. "They play me for a fool. Order the Dark Claw to fire a single volley at the first DropShip and then go after the second, full flank speed." Her attention was fully on the tactical display now. "I was fooled once by their little games, but not twice. They mean to try and escape with some of their forces in the second DropShip. They seek reinforcements—aff, aid in their fight. But we are a long way from Northwind and their homeland.
"The first ship was intended to lure us away, perhaps even make us deploy some forward troops. We will hurt that ship—cripple it like the lame animal it is, then go after the real prey."
"You could be wrong about how they will use these Drop-Ships, Star Colonel," Devon Osis told her. "What then?"
"Neg, Commander, I am right and you know it too."
"How can you be so sure, Star Colonel?"
She said nothing, but kept her eyes locked with his. "We share the same soul, the heart of the Jaguar."
"Crush this freebirth trash," he said, "Leave no trace of them when you are done." His voice was low, not a whisper, but more throaty—almost sensuous with the lust for battle.
The comm officer interrupted their intense exchange. "The first DropShip has changed course. It is heading for the isthmus between the two continents."
Roberta stared at him.
"The Dark Claw reports numerous flash signals, drop pods, and jump jets. It is enemy BattleMech deployment," the comm officer went on.
"They're going to seize those straits," Roberta said, turning back to Osis. "That ship was not just a decoy." Devon Osis saw the rage flare up in her again, burning hotter and brighter, burning like a bonfire.
21
DropShip Bull Run, Outbound
Wayside V (Wildcat)
Deep Periphery
5 July 3058
The Claymore's down," the flight officer said, his voice seeming to shatter the tension of the Bull Run's bridge. Loren smiled broadly and looked over at Captain Spillman, who gave him a confident thumbs-up.
Colonel's Stirling's modification to Case Granite was simple yet elegant. The Claymore would deploy its two companies of Black Adders in the tight confines of the Isthmus of Bannockburn. It would then feign a crash nearby to further boost the defense of the narrow pass. Should the Jaguars somehow punch through, the Fusiliers could use the ship's powerful turrets as long-range fire support. On their own, the Black Adders should be able to hold back the Smoke Jaguars long enough for the main body of the Fusiliers to arrive.
"Enemy destroyer moving to intercept course," the navigation officer barked out in a deep voice.
"Time until we're in range of their weapons?" Spillman asked, rubbing his jaw in thought.
"Given our current thrust and course and the head start we've got, she'll be in range in approximately twenty-two minutes."
"Not too bad," Loren said. The mechanics of the space battle were straightforward but risky. The Bull Run would continue on its direct course to where the JumpShips were stationed at the pirate jump point. The WarShip's best hope was to close in the wake of the outbound Fusilier DropShip. Once the destroyer was in range, the Bull Run would initiate its play. "I only hope your little presents do the trick."
'They will, lad," Spillman said. He looked over at the young female gunnery officer. "Lieutenant Rosen, have your team in Bay Three prep for launch." The lieutenant snapped a salute and leaned over the control panel, furiously issuing orders. The minutes passed slowly as if time itself had slowed down.
"Captain, three minutes from interception range on my mark—mark!" the navigation officer suddenly called out.
Spillman turned to Lieutenant Rosen, "Gunnery control, fire the first wave. Second wave to follow twenty seconds later."
"Aye, aye, sir," she replied.
* * *
"Short-range sensors indicate that the objects dumped from the DropShip are in our flight vector," the bridge officer of the WarShip Dark Claw reported as he studied the information scrolling in front of him. "It is as you said, Star Captain, they are definitely life pods and three of their life boats." The dull hum of the massive subspace drive of the Smoke Jaguar destroyer seemed to throb with energy as everyone on the bridge of the Dark Claw swung into action. The massive viewports, their armor shields down now, showed the vast expanse of space in front of the ship. Against the velvet blackness the ship's target looked like little more than a glowing dot of burning fusion energy.
Star Captain Klark Chrisholm, commander of the Dark Claw, nodded with some satisfaction that he had been right. "Any sign that the pods are occupied?"
"Neg. They are making no attempt to avoid us. Apparently they are adrift, sir."
"An old ploy but poorly timed on their part. Had we fired on that ship, perhaps we might be deceived into believing they had been hit," Chrisholm said. "I will not waste precious time investigating this ruse."
"Do you wish to change course to avoid them?"
"Neg," Chrisholm said, as though the question were offensive. "A course diversion of even a few degrees at this distance could add hours to our interception. Continue at current heading and speed." He knew that the Dark Claw's massive frontal armor was more than enough to stop any damage the escape craft might try to do. And, judging from the tactical plot, only three of the pods and none of the life boats would pass close enough to present any danger of accidental ramming. "Are our guns in range yet?" lie asked.
"Neg," the Gunnery Control Officer replied. "The turrets will be in range in less than a minute. Gunner's Mate Volks and his crew have won the bid for the right to engage first."
/> "Captain," called the bridge officer. "We are passing their life boats in ten seconds."
Klark Chrisholm sat tall in his chair, ever the proud Smoke Jaguar warrior. These were not prey worthy of a ship's commander such as him. His WarShip was more than a match for the already damaged DropShip.
He looked out the forward viewscreen and saw the outline of one of the escape pods nearly fifty meters away as the Dark Claw passed. There was a slight glow, then the pod's boosters suddenly fired, burning brightly with life and energy. It pivoted slightly, then drove straight into the destroyer's hull just in front of the bridge. Within moments the other pods and life boats also plowed into the WarShip, coming to life all at once like mad dogs suddenly awakened.
The instant the pod hit the WarShip's hull, it erupted in a gigantic ball of light. There was no blast sound, but the massive Essex Class destroyer seemed to shudder and moan under the impact. There were four more explosions, four in rapid succession, each seeming to shake the ship hard. Chrisholm rose to his feet as the last blast nearly threw him to the floor.
"Damage report," he barked. As he spoke, the tactical display screen flickered for a moment, then shut off totally.
"We were rammed by the life craft," the bridge officer said.
"That much I know, you fool," Chrisholm said.
The officer leaned over the panel, his fingers dancing furiously as he pulled up the data. "We have lost long-range sensors. Our external array took a direct hit. Starboard was hit by three of their life boats and has sustained moderate damage, with a hull breach of Alpha deck. Emergency procedures are in place. And sir, just as we lost sensors we saw another group of those craft being launched in our path."
"They programmed them like our own anti-ship missiles, loaded with explosives," Chrisholm said, almost admiring the gall of the enemy Captain. "How much time until the new wave is in range?"
"Approximately one minute," the bridge officer said "They are still out of range of our bid turret, sir."
"How many and what composition is this next wave?"
"Data is inaccurate due to our damage, Star Captain, but it appears to consist of three life boats and four more pods."
"That is impossible," Chrisholm retorted. "Overlord Class DropShips do not carry that many escape craft. They must have salvaged the other DropShips." The logic was pure, but the implications were staggering. Given the fact that the other three DropShips were still on Wildcat, that meant he could be facing additional waves of these assaults. "Ready all turrets and fire at will."
There was a humming, almost throbbing sound that seemed to shake the bridge as the enormous naval particle projection cannons began to build up their charge to fire. Along with the massive Barracuda anti-ship missiles, the PPCs provided the Essex Class destroyer with more than enough firepower to blow the smaller DropShip to smithereens.
The bridge officer spoke up, "With the damage to our sensors, our accuracy will be reduced by fifteen percent."
"Where are those—" Chrisholm's question was cut off as the Dark Claw rolled under another deep and thudding explosion as one of the Bull Run's life boats fired its engines and rammed into the ship's starboard side. The blast ate away at its thick armor, and the ship recoiled slightly to port under the impact. That was followed by another pair of smaller explosions as the escape pods collided near the rear engines of the ship. Chrisholm spilled forward slightly under the blasts and realized something was seriously wrong as the lights flickered, then dimmed.
The emergency lighting and station power came on a second later, activating the systems that were critical to ship operations, but leaving many of the stations with only half their control systems lit. The once-bright bridge lights were at twenty-five percent power.
"Engineering, this is the Captain," Chrisholm barked into the microphone in the arm rest of his command chair. "We are on emergency power. Status report."
"We have a small coolant leak, Star Captain, and have had to divert power from the starboard transfer conduit"
"How serious is it?"
"We will have to reduce speed, Captain," the engineer said.
"Neg, you will have to provide me with more thrust," Chrisholm ordered as if his words alone could somehow change the physics of the situation.
"Negative, Captain Chrisholm. If we comply, the engines will automatically shut down in just a few minutes time."
"What are the consequences If I order you to bypass that automatic shutdown, Engineer?"
The question only added to the nearly palpable tension on the bridge. "Captain, you could thrust to the speed you desire, but the engines would overheat within a few minutes. They would burn through their shielding and then rupture the hull as the reactors went uncontrollably critical."
Klark Chrisholm balled his fists in anger, slamming them into the armrests on either side of him. "Alternatives, Engineer."
"Cut the engines temporarily and use one of our access corridors as a bypass coolant vent. It will take an hour to properly seal and make the connections. At that point we could return to seventy-five percent thrust."
In the meantime, my enemy gets away. It was a bitter decision to make, but one that Chrisholm could not avoid. There is a loss of honor here, but the loss of my vessel would forever impair the mission of the Galaxy. "Very well, Engineer. Proceed with this bypass. I will signal Commander Osis and inform him of our status."
22
DropShip Bull Run
Pirate Jump Point CEXC-002l-A.2122.97
Deep Periphery
6 July 3058
Loren walked into the cavernous 'Mech bay of the DropShip Bull Run, Kerndon following close behind. Gathered here were the troops who would help him lure the Nova Cats from Tarnby to Wayside. He had called them together for one last briefing. As Loren turned to face his people, Kerndon took his place, always a pace behind, as if an invisible rod held him in place.
"Attention, people," Loren called out, and the murmur of voices echoing through the massive bay ceased almost immediately. Usually the dingy, sweat- and lubricant-stained bay was full of the sounds of repair and effort, but now it seemed eerily empty. Even the repair gantries and winches seemed to stop and pay heed to the call for attention. "I called this meeting to let you know what we're up against, and what I expect from you. You all know the importance of this mission to the survival of the rest of the Fusiliers, so I won't bore you with a motivational speech.
"You've all had plenty of time to review known Jaguar tactics. We've left the Jag signals still active on the IFF transponders in the captured Omnis. What you need to remember most about what's coming is that the Nova Cats will come at us with pure Clan tactics. They'll square off in one-on-one battles unless you give them the opportunity to do otherwise. In their minds, they will be fighting the Smoke Jaguars, their long-time enemies.
"From what we've read, they're some kind of mystics or dreamers," said the lean Lieutenant McBride. "Yet the battle reports make them plenty savage in combat. My only question is which are they—dreamers or warriors?"
"For those of you who haven't heard, this man is my bondsman Kerndon." Loren gestured to the muscular man who stood mute behind him. On Kerndon's right wrist was the bondcord, wrapped three times. "Kerndon was a Smoke Jaguar warrior until a few days ago. As my bondsman he is sworn to us, and my trust in him is implicit. He knows all about the Nova Cats."
Kerndon acknowledged Loren with a slight bow of the head as he began to speak. "The Nova Cats believe they have a special insight into the future, and that this future features them predominantly. They perform spiritual quests for visions, attempting to recreate what Nicholas Kerensky did when he formed our—the Clans." Kerndon caught himself as he spoke.
"I have fought them only once, but have studied them deeply. They use their spirituality in combat. It feeds them. gives them a concentration that lets them fight with a frenzy exceeded only by the Jaguar. Because they believe they are chartered by some supernatural providence, they fight without fear of
harm or death. This makes them deadly foes." Having spoken all he thought necessary, Kerndon took a step back to indicate he was done.
"As you can see, Kerndon can tell us much that is useful," Loren said. "Now let's get down to business.
"We exit the Wayside system in less than thirty minutes. Our batteries are charged enough to support two jumps, which will bring us to our first objective. We're taking both JumpShips with us, but the Kobayashi won't go the whole distance. At one point she'll stop and wait for us, ready to get us back to Wayside fast once we're sure the Nova Cats are coming after us.
"Our first target is star system EC-EY-4170, which is little more than a Clan Nova Cat recharge station. Posing as a Smoke Jaguar Cluster commander, I will initiate a batchall for possession of four of their recharges. We'll use two of those charges to reach our second objective, and the other two on the way back." Loren stressed this last just to remind everyone that there was no question he fully intended to return to Wayside V.
"Excuse me, sir," said Lieutenant Gregory Hector. "But why not just challenge them for the whole recharge station, lock, stock, and barrel?"
"Kerndon can shed some light on that, too," Loren said, gesturing to the bondsman.
"The Nova Cat station is known to be garrisoned by a Star of Elementals and a BattleMech force, plus supporting infantry troops. The Smoke Jaguars have struck the recharge station twice before but have only taken recharges. A Trial of Possession for the entire station would have forced them to commit everything they have to its defense. Such trials would usually involve a different mixture of troops than we're equipped with—primarily Elemental forces." Again, this was something Loren had learned in private discussions with Kerndon. In the void of space, Elementals were favored by the Clans in combat.
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