Impetus of War

by Blaine Lee Pardoe

  Instead of turning to engage her, the Jaguar pilot leveled his remaining lasers and machine guns at the infantry position and opened fire. In angry horror, Stirling saw her infantry troops riddled with fire and death where they stood. This Roberta doesn't just want to beat us, she wants to destroy us totally.

  Moving closer in a blaze of anger, Stirling opened up with her short-range missiles. Her lock was true, and the missiles bore in on the squat torso of the oddly shaped Dragonfly. The burned right side of the 'Mech was hard to make out except for the hot spots that still glowed in the night. Her missiles changed all that, reaching into the very bowels of the machine and seeming to scoop out its internal organs as they exploded. The Dragonfly was dead, its internal superstructure blowing outward from the gaping holes.

  Captain Lewis's Infiltrator troops, wearing power armor similar to a Clan Elemental's, with scaled-down equipment and technology, emerged from their hidden positions and opened up on an approaching Clan Stormcrow.

  Then another 'Mech appeared in the distance, the charred hulk of a Fusilier Victor, barely visible in the flickering lights of the battle. It staggered into the area, also firing its Gauss rifle. Cat Stirling recognized the 'Mech and was shocked at how much damage Major Craig had sustained. If he was hurt that bad, just how bad off was the rest of her regiment?

  And in the back of her mind, she wondered what had become of her PSL officer ...

  * * *

  Star Colonel Roberta turned to see where the missiles that had gouged her were coming from just as a voice filled her cockpit, a voice filled with anger and command. "Star Colonel Roberta, I have been monitoring your progress. Your losses are much higher than estimated. To press the fight further at this time would leave the Huntress Galaxy too crippled to ever defeat our Nova Cat foes. I order you to withdraw your remaining forces immediately."

  The order was a death-blow for her. She would suffer a severe shame if she withdrew, an action Roberta had never committed in her whole life as a Smoke Jaguar. She had always been victorious, no matter what the odds. Now a strange new emotion overwhelmed her, one almost alien to her—humiliation. Roberta was sure of one thing as a Smoke Jaguar officer, defeat was something she was not prepared to deal with.

  Galaxy Commander Osis's voice reached out to her again, crisp and commanding. "You will respond, Star Colonel."

  For Roberta, it was as if her body were moving without her control. She switched to the Galaxy communications channel and spoke, but she hardly knew that she did. "Aff, Galaxy Commander. My forces will withdraw." Such is the will of my Clan, the Clan that I have failed . . .

  She gave the order. The words came from her mouth as she did what a Jaguar must do—obey the orders of a superior officer. She could speak the words, but that did not mean she could do the deed. It was inconceivable for her to return to the firebase camp in defeat. There was only one way she could deal with the way the battle had swayed—a way consistent with the path of the Smoke Jaguar warrior.

  Roberta saw the Hatamoto-chi still in the distance. Her infrared filtering system was not functioning perfectly, but she could make out the image of the Inner Sphere BattleMech walking backward as it made its way out of the battle zone. Star Colonel Roberta smiled thinly. Yes, there is a way to still claim victory in the name of the Jaguar.

  * * *

  "We engaged the enemy an hour ago," Jake Fuller reported. "We took heavy losses, but none of the Jags got away." There was a long pause. "They fought to the last man and woman."

  Fuller's voice was weary and hard to hear as Stirling piloted her Grand Titan forward, rounding a rock formation, searching for friend and foe alike.

  "Understood. Work your way back to the rendezvous coordinates."

  Suddenly a voice came over Stirling's neurohelmet speakers: "I am Star Colonel Roberta of the Smoke Jaguars. Prepare to face me as warriors are meant to, one on one to the death!" The message was not intended for Stirling, but was directed at the nearby Hatamoto-chi of Elden Parkensen. Knee-deep in mangled OmniMechs, the Sho-sa's 'Mech was just finishing off a final Elemental. As Stirling's Grand Titan continued on, she saw the image of a battle-weary Clan Gladiator also slowly making its way forward.

  "Come, child, together we will find what we seek," came back the grim voice of Sho-sa Parkensen. Both of them were seeking death, Stirling realized. Parkensen for his past, Roberta for her failure here. Regardless of what she thought of the PSL and his constant harping, she needed him and his BattleMech. Everyone mattered from this point on, just as they had from the start. If he seeks death, there are better ways and times for that still to come.

  She locked her own targeting cross hairs onto the slow-moving Gladiator, seeking out the already-damaged areas of the Omni. Setting her sights on the mauled torso, she brought her last salvo of long-range missiles and her large lasers on line.

  Her sensors told her that another BattleMech lay at their extreme range, past the Gladiator. She triggered her primary target-interlock firing stud and let go with her long-range weapons. At the same moment, the 'Mech in the background also opened fire on the Gladiator.

  From two sides at once, the Gladiator was pummeled by an overwhelming wave of fire and death in the darkness. The fusion reactor's shielding ruptured, and Stirling knew that radiation was at that moment bathing the 'Mech's cockpit. The automatic ejection system should have engaged and shot the pilot out to some other fate. But Roberta must have overridden the system, because no warrior sailed free of the destroyed 'Mech. She was surely dead.

  "She was to be mine!" Sho-sa Parkensen howled over the commline as Stirling and Major Blakadar both closed on his position. "She challenged me to the time-honored tradition of one-on-one combat."

  "We saved your life," Blakadar said.

  "It was not yours to save," the PSL returned bitterly.

  Cat Stirling stared at his Hatamoto-chi with disgust and anger, yet the battle had taken its toll on her as well. "Sho-sa, " she said wearily, "didn't anyone ever teach you how to say thank you?"

  28

  Nova Cat Planetary Command, New Lorton

  Tarnby

  Smoke Jaguar/Nova Cat Occupation Zone

  13 July 3058

  Star Colonel Santin West was an imposing figure in his Elemental armor as he came off the test range, but he was in a bad mood. He hadn't performed as well as he should have, something that always made him angry. Displayed on his helmet, just over the eyeslot, was the insignia of the Nova Cats—the open-mouthed cat, the field of stars behind it, all standing out on his ebony black armor. Below it, on his chest, was the insignia of the 179th—his Cluster, his command, the Circle of Power. The bright yellow-white ring circled the blood-red numerals of 179. The unit was named for the circle that Nicholas Kerensky drew around himself during his fast in the mountains of Strana Mechty when he first had his vision of the Clans.

  Santin West walked off the range and went down into the ready-room, his battle suit covered with a fine dust from the firing range. With casual ease he lowered himself into a sitting position in the rack while two members of the technician caste stepped up and began to remove the gear. He was trained in putting on and taking off the armored suit, but in most situations it was the work of the lower castes to assist Elementals with the task.

  The helmet was removed first, its pressurized seal hissing slightly as the safety bolts were thrown and the two techs removed it. He didn't look them in the eye; he never did. They were but techs after all. It was not their place to speak or be acknowledged. It was their place to perform their duties and do them well, lest they incur his wrath.

  Next they removed the suit's frontal chest plate, which was more than just armor. Sophisticated circuitry was interwoven into the array as well as a life support system and a balance system. Power came from the pack he wore on his back. The techs worked quickly as if they could sense his dark mood and did not want to provoke his anger.

  A Mech Warrior appeared in the doorway, and Santin West locked eyes with the
fair-haired woman he had come to know well. Star Captain Jill Lenardon, of the Command Supernova and his second-in-command, leaned against the door frame with an almost casual attitude as she watched him unsuit.

  "I bring a message for you," she said. "Silver Claw clearance."

  "Silver Claw, you say?" These were the code words he had fed into the communications interface. It was a flag for his attention, an indication that the gigantic strategic database maintained by the Nova Cats contained some information on Smoke Jaguar activity. Santin West's senses seemed to come alive, as he wished they had on the test range earlier.

  "Have the command center download it to the terminal in my quarters."

  "Affirmative, Star Colonel," Jill Lenardon said, suddenly taking a more formal stance as she sensed his change to a command tone of voice. He studied her as she brought herself to attention. Her frame was lithe, compact, and muscular, the epitome of a Clan MechWarrior. Her firm breasts, even under the dull gray of her jumpsuit, caught his attention. "And Star Captain, if you so desire, I would couple with you this evening."

  "Aff, Star Colonel," she said, staring just as openly at his well-defined chest muscles and powerful thighs. "That would be invigorating."

  Santin nodded. Invigorating, yes. And if this message brought good news, the coupling would be even better.

  * * *

  To anyone but Santin West, the message would not have been particularly interesting. It was merely a field report of a Smoke Jaguar DropShip, Overlord Class, battling for four jump recharges at a Nova Cat recharge station in the Periphery. Two recharges were taken, with two held in reserve for some future point in time. The verbal and written testimony of Star Commanders Edward and Otis told the cold hard facts of the battle. They did not conceal the truth of the loss of honor at the hands of the Jaguars.

  As his eyes roved over the data, pulling up the holographic images from the battle ROMs of the survivors, he found what he was looking for. Their OmniMech paint schemes and markings were those of the Smoke Jaguars. Like many Jaguar units, they displayed the Greek letter for their Galaxy, followed by a much smaller Cluster number, Star number, and position. What struck him most was the fact that the image of the Battle Hawk he was looking at bore the mark of the Tau Galaxy.

  "The Jaguar has finally emerged from its den," he said softly to himself as he watched the Nova Cat Executioner that was the Trial loser. He saw and felt his fellow warrior's shame at losing a battle. He then pulled up the transmission by the Smoke Jaguar Cluster Commander and stared at the mask of the stalking cat that had plagued his Clan for generations. In the background, the faint glimmer of the "T" symbol again.

  He stared at Star Colonel Loren long and hard. This was his foe, his enemy. He hides his face so we cannot even guess at his genetic heritage. When I have crushed him in battle, our scientists can take from him what they need to learn, what the scientist Jaguars have been forging in their iron wombs.

  Then he pulled up the location of the system where the Cat's Eye 009 recharge station was located. A holographic map of the Deep Periphery flickered in front of him. Next he pulled up the known Smoke Jaguar bases and supply routes and overlaid them on the map as well.

  He projected a sphere thirty light years in diameter around the recharge station, the approximate maximum distance that could be covered in a single hyperspace jump. He doubled that sphere again. They had taken two charges, which told him their ships had lithium-fusion batteries. And the fact that they needed two recharges indicated that the ships had traveled at least two jumps before reaching the station—not taking the time to recharge. Smoke Jaguar mentality; charging into a battle rather than biding their time.

  The known Jaguar supply bases and transport lanes were not near the volume of space the ships had traversed. Two JumpShips, one DropShip, one Cluster commander. The story was partial but was more than he had before. Tau Galaxy had emerged from hiding and was striking at the Nova Cats. They had to have a base, a new and unknown one, somewhere in the Deep Periphery.

  They have come to test us, to see if we are ready for them. He activated his personal communicator. "My Khan, this is Star Colonel Santin West. I request a meeting with you."

  The voice on the small speaker came back. "You have word of our foe, quiaff?"

  "Aff, my Khan. Aff. . ."

  29

  DropShip Bull Run, Zenith Jump Point

  System EC-EY-4150

  Deep Periphery

  13 July 3058

  The small briefing room in the bowels of the Bull Run was cramped and tight as Loren's people attempted to find standing or sitting room there. They had left the Nova Cat recharge station no worse for wear, and Loren couldn't wait until they'd left the system. Each hour there was one more that they might be exposed, their disguises penetrated. Now, they were finally alone at the jump point over a star in a binary system. They would be here for four days rather than risk a misjump. During that time they could recharge while minimizing the risks to the control circuits and the delicate jump-drive core that propelled the ship faster than light across the stars. And here, in the void of space, he would plan his next strike on the Nova Cats.

  "We jump again in four days to a system the Clans call Boltin, our next target. The problem is we're working with limited intelligence about the planet, so I thought you all should know what we're potentially up against."

  Lieutenant Hector chuckled. "No offense, sir, but nothing can be as bad as bungee jumping a BattleMech, in deep space, covered with Elementals who are trying to kill you." Several of the other Fusiliers laughed in appreciation.

  "I don't want to burst your bubble, Greg, but we've got very little information on this planet or its defenders, save what Kerndon can tell us." Loren gestured to his bondsman, who stood at parade rest next to him.

  Kerndon nodded at the signal to speak. "My information is limited to briefings I studied during the journey to the Inner Sphere. The subject planet is primarily a desert world with very limited plant life. Temperatures reach peaks that will, create overheating problems for 'Mechs fighting there for long periods of time. There are no polar caps and limited cloud formations or weather.

  "Its rotation is long, as I recall—nearly sixty-five hours. The Nova Cats have one base on the world, centered on a water-pumping plant and a series of warehouses."

  "Sounds like the key word here would be desolate."

  "Aff, Major Loren."

  "What's stored in the warehouses?" Loren asked.

  "I cannot speak as to what is there now. It is known that originally the facilities on the world stored repair parts, munitions, and foodstuffs."

  Lieutenant Trisha McBride spoke next from the opposite side of the table. "I take it your former Clan has fought there before."

  "Aff," Kerndon said. "The planet was originally one of our holdings. When ilKhan Ulric Kerensky allowed the Nova Cats to share our invasion corridor, we were forced to fight a series of Trials of Possession for supply bases and trade routes leading into the Inner Sphere. Boltin was lost to the Nova Cats during one of those Trials. We attempted to take it back once but failed."

  "Where was the Trial of Possession fought?"

  "I believe the battle was fought inside the old warehouse complex near the former Jaguar base."

  "Old complex?" McBride probed.

  "Aff, Lieutenant Trisha," he answered. "The current base is new, built by the Nova Cats. Our original compound was located eight kilometers from the present one. A series of stray shots caused an explosion during the Trial of Possession, and a fire gutted the facility. Due to chemical contaminants and other exposure risks, the new base was built nearby."

  The information was useful to Loren. He had fought in desert environments before and knew that heat would play a crucial role. One advantage his mock-Jaguars might enjoy was that they were used to the sweltering cockpits of Inner Sphere 'Mechs, which lacked the extra heat-sink capability of Clan 'Mechs. Of course it wasn't enough to turn the tide of battle. Any garrison for
ce on such a planet would most assuredly be accustomed to such conditions, and if the Clans were anything, they were adaptive.

  "That warehouse complex is the only defensible point anywhere in sight. Everything around it is wide open. I'd like to keep the battle there, but how?"

  Kerndon stared at Loren for a moment, considering the possibilities. "It may be possible, given the nature of our enemy, to achieve that goal, Major Loren. Inform them that you wish to challenge them to a Trial of Refusal rather than a Trial of Possession. Inform them that your Tau Galaxy comes to refute the loss of the original base."

  Loren shook his head. "I don't want to take the whole planet from them, Kerndon. I just want to get their attention. Wouldn't a Trial of Possession for their warehouses full of supplies suffice for that?"

  "Affirmative, Major, under normal circumstances. But you must understand the true nature of such Trials. As I explained to you before, they are not just statements of intention, but an expression of power."

  "What are you talking about? How will just changing the name of the Trial get us the old complex as a battle site?" asked Lieutenant Leigh Ann Miller.

  "The Nova Cats are a superstitious crew. If you challenge them to a Trial of Refusal for that site, they will certainly select it as the venue for the Trial, as is their right as the defender. In their minds, the site would be auspicious because they defeated the Smoke Jaguars there the last time. They will select it because they won there before—such is their superstitious nature."

  "What kind of garrison force are we likely to encounter on Boltin?"

  "At least a Trinary's worth," Kerndon said, "and an element of a Provisional Garrison Cluster or a solahma unit would also be likely for such a remote and minor duty."