"With what do you defend yourself, Nova Cat warriors?" Loren laced his words with arrogance, even contempt, warming to the role. Surprisingly, his batchall was answered quickly. A flicker of holographic light showed a man standing before him, obviously a seasoned MechWarrior. His face was either horribly burned and scarred, or the holographic projector was failing. The man wore the charcoal-gray dress uniform of the Nova Cats, and his menacing cowl and cape made him appear even more threatening.
"I am Star Captain Mandrake of the Nova Cats. The Smoke Jaguars already failed to best us in Trials of Possession a year ago. A Trial of Refusal is voided by such actions, and I refuse to acknowledge such a claim."
Loren saw Kerndon, who stood in the darkness out of view of the holoprojector's lens, shake his head and wave his hands in a signal of refusal.
"Mandrake of the Nova Cats," Loren said, "I can understand that a solahma unit such as yours lacks the will or pride to take on truebirth warriors such as my Cluster. I assure you that once our mission is complete, your Khans will know of your weakness and your fear."
The mangled face of Mandrake showed no emotion, perhaps having lost that capacity long ago. Instead the holo image remained standing there, staring at Loren. Its eyes seeming to hang from their sockets with just the tiniest bit of scarred flesh supporting them, did not blink or yield. "Brave talk, oh Great Smoke Coward who hides behind a mask as if I were some freebirth scum to be intimidated."
"With a face such as yours, Star Captain, a mask would be an improvement," Loren jabbed.
Mandrake's holographic image actually managed a smile, though it was frightening to look at through the burned pink and red flesh and his half-missing lips. "You talk like some stinking bandit-caste filth," he retorted. "I won these burns of honor fighting alongside the Smoke Jaguars on Luthien when your Clan failed to fulfill the vision of the Kerenskys and brought disgrace on both our Clans."
Loren saw from the look on Kerndon's face that pursuit of the insult would be a mistake he could ill afford. "I was not at either Luthien or Tukayyid, but I and my warriors represent the best of that blood brought now to bear. Had I been there, I assure you our Clans would now stand proudly on the Black Pearl of Luthien as victors.
"But I am not here to talk of old men and their scars. I have come to redeem the honor of my Clan. Will you acknowledge this Trial of Refusal, Star Captain Mandrake, or will I be forced to challenge you to a Trial of Possession for what you hold?"
Mandrake paused, obviously thinking over his options. "I am not obligated by the terms of this rede to fight you for more than what your Clan originally lost. When we took this world from your filthy clutches, the fight was merely for the warehouses west of our complex. Since you call for this Trial of Refusal, that is what you shall fight for and nothing more."
"That is all I desire," Loren said back. "I come not to take this world from you but to reclaim honor that has been stolen by your warriors."
"I shall face you personally," Mandrake said. "I and a Star of my best warriors. To make sure that fortune favors us, I exercise my right to choose the place of our battle."
Loren waited a moment before the grotesque figure gave him what he wanted. "We shall meet where your Clan was crushed once before. You will take the field first and the site is yours to hold so that we can take it from you again."
Loren shot a glance through the eyeslits of the mask at Kerndon, who nodded. "Well bargained and done, Star Captain. We land in two days' time. Be prepared then to meet your fate."
32
Abandoned Jaguar Base
Boltin (System EC-EY-4189)
Deep Periphery
17 July 3058
The ripples of heat coming off the yellow sands of Boltin made normal vision waver, but the sensors on Loren's Masakari were working fine. Though they didn't tell him; everything he needed to know, they revealed the presence of structures burned and gutted from the inside out. The largest one was but a shell with only roof and walls still standing, its interior five stories heaped into a massive debris field. The old Jaguar base was literally in the middle of nowhere, surrounded nearly 350 meters in all directions by flat desert. A wall and power fence had once surrounded the complex. Now wind and sand had created dunes over portions of the broken wall.
The buildings were in the center. A totally ruined circular structure in the middle of the base had most likely been the command bunker. Now it too was filled with windblown sand, gradually swallowed by Boltin's dry winds. The warehouse buildings, including the large one that still stood, surrounded the bunker remains. Most showed signs of having been in a horrific battle, gutted from the inside out and then stripped by the Nova Cats after the fight.
Loren studied the flat terrain, the bleak horizon, and the lone structure rising up from the sands. It was the only defensible position around for kilometers. Every approach was flat, open terrain with no place to hide. He would see his foes coming for kilometers, and it would literally be a gun battle to the end. The Bull Run was sitting out there, somewhere to the east at least fifteen kilometers from the base. It had dropped them nearby and then they had marched in. The DropShip was his key asset, and Loren had not wanted it anywhere near the fighting.
As much as he'd wanted this site for the battle, it made no sense that the Nova Cats had wanted it too. They hadn't even really seemed to think it over. And then there was the almost evil grin on the face of the Nova Cat commander, taunting him every time he remembered the batchall. The Nova Cats obviously knew something he didn't.
As he drew closer to the ruined site, his sensors picked up some background radiation, but nothing to worry about. A total of eight buildings made up the abandoned base, a scene of rubble and crumbling walls scarred by laser fire and burned and pitted by missile or cannon rounds. The bunkerlike structure of the former command post had taken the brunt of the damage. If not for the reinforced wall supports still poking up, Loren would never have guessed a building had once stood there. The Jaguars must have fought to the last man and woman defending this place.
He opened a secure commline to his "Star" of mock-Jaguars. "Star, establish a perimeter around that central structure and sweep the area for any sign of the Cats." There were a series of "affs" over the command channel, a precaution Loren had ordered in case the Nova Cats had somehow managed to tap into their communications. They couldn't risk exposing themselves, not at this point—not with so much at stake.
He had countered the Nova Cat bid of a Star's worth of defense by bidding one of his own Stars, made up of light to assault 'Mechs. The odds would be fairly even, he assumed, especially if the Cats deployed at least some of their second-line 'Mechs. Kerndon had advised Loren to drop down to four Points—four 'Mechs—in his bid, but Loren had decided against it. Winning here would be important if they were going to get the Cats stirred up enough to follow them back to Wayside V.
Maneuvering his Masakari through the massive doorway that led into the building, Loren saw that a path had been bulldozed through the debris field. It was a tight operating environment, but he was able to get the Masakari in far enough to see that the path led to a large cleared area in the middle of the building. There, on the floor and running under it, was an impressive piping system all sealed and capped off. The Nova Cats had apparently come here at some point and sealed off the huge, five-meter-diameter pipe.
Studying his surroundings, Loren thought he could probably deploy his forces inside the abandoned building, but only at the cost of maneuverability. The five-story piles of debris would inhibit movement and serve to block line of sight/fire. It would make all combat close range—painfully close.
Almost fifty meters from the piping was an internal storage silo made of ferro-plastic. It was breached in several areas, and the top of the structure had been ripped off. A chalky white powder seeped from the gaps, much of it spilled onto the floor. Loren didn't know what it was, but if these were chemicals, it seemed odd that it had never been cleaned up.
He
opened a channel to the Bull Run. "Captain Spillman, give me Kerndon," he said.
"Aff, Star Colonel Loren," came the bondsman's voice.
"I'm in the only standing building here and I don't think it was just a warehouse. There's some sort of piping here too."
"That is likely the main well dug when we first set up on the planet. The Smoke Jaguars operated a water-processing plant here as well. The facility was most likely used for both storage and for pumping to conserve space."
"The Nova Cats must have sealed it off after the battle," Loren said, but the existence of the pipe nagged at him as if he were missing something.
Staring at the silo, he decided the only way to be sure was to get out and check the pipe assembly up close and personal.
Leaving his 'Mech idling at fifteen percent power, he popped open the cockpit hatch. He was sweaty from the close quarters of his 'Mech, but the thin dry air of Boltin seemed to eat up every drop of perspiration, leaving him almost chilled despite the heat. He descended the rungs down the side of his 'Mech to the debris-strewn floor.
He carefully climbed over the rubble to what was left of the silo, still wearing his captured Jaguar neurohelmet and coolant vest. He carefully touched a finger to the substance and smelled it. The scent was faint, but he recognized the odor. Flour. He put a dab on the tip of his tongue, careful to spit it out once he'd tasted it. It wasn't a chemical at all, just spoiled flour.
It took a full five minutes to make his way to the massive pipe, which he found cold to the touch. On one side was a small digital gauge that showed the pressure dropping steadily. Descending slowly, the small green numbers on the readout told Loren something was afoot. The Nova Cats were changing the water pressure in the pipe and there had to be a reason. It isn't just a capped well, it's something more.
Loren made his way back up to the Masakari cockpit, breathing heavily as his lungs tried to take in enough of the thin air of Boltin's atmosphere. There was something about all this that still bothered him, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
Next he turned his attention to the several tons of flour. His Death Commando training had taught him to take advantage of anything at hand, to twist and turn it to his advantage. All around his Masakari he saw the powdery flour. He activated the battle computer through the small keypad and scrolled through the personnel records of his volunteer mock-Jaguars. It took only a few seconds to find the key word he was searching for—Demolitions.
Glenda Jura. Looking around the vast building, he knew that the job would be a big one, but that she could handle it.
It would take time, but he thought the building could provide him with a powerful asset should the Nova Cats press him hard enough or if he could lure them into it.
He opened a channel to her Koshi. "Glenda, this is Jaffray."
"Sir," her voice came back, obviously a little surprised to hear directly from her CO.
"I need you to fall back to my position. Did you bring any of your explosive charges?"
"Yes, sir," she returned.
"Good." Loren smiled as he spoke. "You've set up DAIs before, haven't you?"
"Dust Air Initiators, yes, sir."
"Good. You're going to have to rig a rather large one here. And time is critical."
* * *
The rock formations of the terrain north toward the Jaguar aerodrome cast early evening shadows where what was left of the Kilsyth Guards had parked their 'Mechs. Major Jake Fuller and the two lances under his command quickly climbed down from their machines and spread thermal tarps over the cockpits and upper torsos of their 'Mechs to shield them from any Jaguar aerospace recons. The tarps helped mask the heat readings of the fusion reactors and deadened their magnetic signatures, making them much harder to detect. Thus far, they'd be successful.
In the two days since the battle at the isthmus, Jake's group had traveled almost one hundred forty kilometers from the isthmus, making their way east and north toward the air base. It was now only a scant thirty kilometers to the north. Soon, their mission would be over and they could begin the non-stealthy sprint back to where the rest of the Fusiliers were—putting as much distance as possible between them and the rest of the Jaguars.
Fuller kept half his unit on alert, in their cockpits, ready for action and running with passive sensors so they would be warned if they became the targets of Smoke Jaguar scrutiny. The rest made camp, setting up collapsible command domes among the jagged rocks. This was the first watch, and Jake Fuller, sore from riding in the cramped cockpit of his 'Mech for hours on end, stood and stretched as he surveyed his patched Cerberus.
Nearby Elden Parkensen was also climbing down from his Hatamoto-chi. Till now, Jake had found it hard to guess the age of the Combine officer. But suddenly he noticed that the PSL's tanned skin seemed to hang like a leather garment in some areas, indicating that the Sho-sa was much older than he let on.
Why in the name of hell did the Colonel saddle me with him? He's been bucking her and us ever since the start of this mission. Jake had hoped that the PSL's icy exterior might thaw once away from Cat Stirling. Instead, Parkensen had remained as stubborn and aloof as ever.
But Jake knew they had to start talking sooner or later, and now was as good a time as any. He strode up to the Sho-sa as he too stood stretching out the kinks in the pale green light of early evening.
"Hello, Sho-sa Parkensen," Jake said in as friendly a tone as he could muster.
Parkensen merely nodded in acknowledgment.
Jake tried not to show how much that irked him. "We're two days from the aerodrome. You've had a lot of experience with the Clans. Don't you think we should talk about how we're going to carry out the attack?"
Parkensen surveyed the area, then turned back to Fuller. "Our progress has been slow, Major. I am confident that the Jaguar attack force is already to the south in pursuit of the rest of the Fusiliers."
"That's pretty much what we get from the satellite scans, too." The compressed and scrambled intelligence data from Captain Lovat confirmed what the Sho-sa suspected.
"If we complete this mission, there will be no way for us to return to the Fusiliers. You must know that by now."
Yes, Jake knew that. The Smoke Jaguar Cluster pursuing Colonel Stirling and the rest of the regiment would stand between his current position and safety. "That's true, but we've got our orders and they are to take out the enemy aerodrome. Once we've done that we can figure out how we're going to get back."
"I don't think you fully appreciate how much—" Suddenly Parkensen stopped and lifted his face toward the green sky of Wayside V. There was a distant sound, like thunder, except that it did not die away but seemed to get louder.
Jake's wrist communicator went off with a squeal, and he activated it quickly. "Warning, incoming fighters, warning!" came the voice of Paul Kriter, one of the lance members still on duty.
Jake activated the communicator for general broadcast. "Scramble. Mount up and deploy immediately." Even as he spoke he was moving toward his Cerberus, ready to leap for the ladder as soon as he got close enough. But first came a brilliant flash of light that seemed to surround the whole area. He heard nothing, but felt a rush of air that lifted him into the air. The explosion was warm and wet as the sound finally reached his ears, a roar like the entire planet erupting around him.
Jake was thrown into the air, then hit the ground nearly ten meters from where he'd been standing seconds before. The ground scraped at his flesh, ripping at his bare thighs and arms and shredding his coolant vest. He felt dirt and rocks pelting him as they rained down, and a wet, warm, sticky feeling everywhere. Nearby was the fallen form of Sho-sa Parkensen, covered in blood.
Jake tried to pull in a gasp of air, but his lungs refused to suck it into his body. The wind had been knocked out of him by the explosion, and he panicked briefly as he struggled to breathe. His lungs finally gave him what he needed, the smell of smoke stinging his nose as he drew in air.
Jake tried to move but couldn't; it w
as as if his body refused to cooperate with his intentions. His arm was covered with sticky gore, and gobs of dirt stuck to the blood. He ignored the painful ringing in his ears and concentrated on trying to move, if only to prove to himself that he was still alive. The wave of pain was like a huge pressure, like someone piling stones on top of him to crush him slowly to death.
At that moment Jake Fuller understood that he was going to die. His mind filled with an unnameable panic as a ringing sound seemed to wrap itself around him. Then he thought of his mother and wondered how she would take the news of his death. His next thought was an image of Colonel Stirling and Major Jaffray standing over his grave. Jaffray. If only he had stayed, this never would have happened. It was his last thought as consciousness fled his crumpled, bloody body.
33
Abandoned Jaguar Base
Boltin (System EC-EY-4189)
Deep Periphery
17 July 3058
" BattleMechs on the outer marker," came the warning from Sara Macallen on the open channel. Loren's sensors told him that only three 'Mechs were out there in the yellow desert of Boltin, awaiting their chance to engage him. His own deployment counted on that. He had poised his forces near the center of the complex facing outward. Macallen faced the east, Jura to the west, he and Burke faced north with a view to the east, and McBride faced south.
"Confirm three Nova Cat 'Mechs," Macallen continued. "Configs as follows. Lead 'Mech is a Warhammer IIC. Second is a Rifleman IIC. Third is a—well, I'll be damned, a Behemoth?" Loren checked his sensors and his deployment. Given the layout of the ruined buildings, only McBride was not able to turn and face the Cats. Good enough for now ...
Impetus of War Page 22