Exodus road

by Blaine Lee Pardoe

  BOOK ONE

  Anvil and Forge

  From Kerensky's Stars came the Eight Hundred Beneath a banner of Truth and Righteous Light To lift up those who had suffered and to smite down With fearful vengeance those who had ruled In the name of Vanity or Greed.

  —The Remembrance, Passage 98, Verse 28

  There will be a time when our descendants Return to reclaim what is our right. With honor swelling their hearts, they will crusade Against the dark emotions that have dimmed The Inner Sphere for so long.

  —The Remembrance, Passage 3, Verse 41

  True warriors do not follow paths, they make them. It is not just their desire, it is their nature

  —Nicholas Kerensky

  1

  Racice River Delta

  Tukayyid

  Free Rasalhague Republic

  2 May 3052

  Star Captain Trent barely noticed the dense trees that filled marshes of the Racice River Delta as he rushed up to the large open clearing, his Timber Wolf sinking into the muck as he came to a walking pace and searched for targets of opportunity. This was the only large clearing they had encountered for kilometers of swamp and bog. His Starmate, Schultz, moved to flank him in a Mad Dog. The Dog was so shattered and mauled that Trent was amazed it could even move, let alone fire. So many warriors had fallen in the fighting. He and Schultz were all that was left of the Binary that had been his command.

  The sight of the Mad Dog, moving with its bird-like gait, stirred Trent even after all his years as a MechWarrior. For the past six hundred years 'Mechs had dominated the battles and wars of mankind. Roughly humanoid in shape and rising up to twelve meters tall, a single 'Mech carried enough firepower to level a city block. It could operate in almost any terrain, be it the vacuum of space or the depths of the sea. Even this swampy morass. And animating them were the warriors who sat high in their cockpits, using their own neural feedback to help pilot the massive machines of death.

  To Trent it was fitting that the cream of Clan technology was here to crush the Inner Sphere's last vestige of hope. The might of the Clans returning to conquer the Inner Sphere had made the invasion a stunning success. Planet after planet had fallen to them as their armies rolled relentlessly toward Terra.

  Then ComStar, the techno-mystical cult that occupied and preserved Terra, had decided to take sides. Using secret intelligence they had gathered on Clan honor and traditions, they had challenged the Clans to a proxy battle on Tukayyid. If the Clans won, they could claim Terra at last. If they failed, the invading Clans would have to abide by a fifteen-year truce. Such a truce would leave a warrior like Trent too old to take part in the invasion when it resumed. That was why losing the fight here and now was not an option.

  Each Clan was to conquer two cities in the fight, and the Jaguars had won the right to strike first. While Alpha Galaxy dropped into the nearby Dinju Mountains to approach their target, his own Beta Galaxy, the Mist Weavers, had dropped into the swamps of the Racice River to reach their target city of Port Racice. Victory and the kill was to be quick, but instead of an honorable battle on a field of honor, the Com Guards had used the bogs and deep pools to stage a series of ambushes. They had mired down the Mist Weavers with artillery barrages, turning what should have been a quick victory into a prolonged and costly fight. .. one that was not going in favor of the Smoke Jaguars.

  "Silver Paw to Cluster Command," he barked, as a series of explosions rippled among the nearby trees. "We are in Sector Five-fourteen."

  There was a hiss of static, some from Com Guard ECM, some from damage. The strained voice of an officer—not his own Star Colonel—replied. "Silver Paw, this is Dark Vigil. The command post has been overrun. We are pulling back. Elements of the enemy are in your area. Link up with Blood Streak Star and pull back as our rear guard. We will reorganize in the delta, quiaff?"

  Blood Streak Star . . . Jet's command. A part of Trent hoped that Jez had met her fate against the meat grinder of the Com Guards. These were not the untested warriors that Khan Lincoln Osis had led them to expect. Their first engagements had been against green troops, no match for the Jaguars. Now it was different. Word had reached him that saKhan Weaver had died in the,fighting. With her death, what was left of Beta Galaxy was pulling back, regrouping, still groping for some kind of victory.

  Worse, the Com Guards had nearly destroyed his Binary, Bravo Striker of the 267th Battle Cluster. Schultz was all that was left, more by luck than skill. Temper had perished in an ambush by Com Guard infantry. Silvia had died in her cockpit while a Com Guard fighter strafed the battle zone. Winston had died embracing an enemy Crockett, letting his fusion reactor go critical as he held his foe in a death-hug.

  It was supposed to have been a lightning-fast victory against inferior Inner Sphere warriors. He let his eyes rove briefly over the trees and the dark shadows among them, and in that brief instant understood the meaning of this moment. This was Tukayyid, the largest battle fought since General Aleksandr Kerensky had liberated Terra from Amaris the Usurper three centuries before. But that was not all.

  Trent was a Smoke Jaguar, and he knew that such a mighty conflict must surely result in heavy losses. New warriors would now have the chance to fight for and claim the bloodnames of those who died on the battlefield. The thought of winning a bloodname stirred Trent to his core.

  He had met with Star Colonel Benjamin Howell just before the Jaguars dropped onto Tukayyid, and Howell had agreed to sponsor Trent for any Howell bloodnames that came open when the fighting was done. Trent believed it was only a matter of time before he too would stand among the bloodnamed of the Smoke Jaguars and all the other Clans. Claiming a bloodname was the greatest achievement to which a warrior could aspire. It meant his genetic legacy would become part of the sacred gene pool, and he would live on beyond his days.

  All that remained was to defeat the Com Guards. He knew that his commanders considered ComStar's effort to end the invasion pure folly. They also viewed the quick strikes of the Com Guards as a waste of resources.

  Trent saw the truth, that the Com Guards had played a game of hit and run so hard and fast that the Jaguars of Beta Galaxy were being worn down. Now, the Jaguars were in retreat, no matter how much their commanders called it reorganization. He had tried to tell the Star Colonel what he saw unfolding, how the Com Guards were crippling the Jaguars. But he'd been cut off in mid-sentence. The Jaguar high command believed they had the situation under control. They had ignored him.

  Just as he was about to signal for Jez, Trent saw her Warhawk sweep into the far end of the clearing a kilometer away. She was following the Com Guard infantry she was routing, mowing them down with a barrage from her large pulse lasers. Or, at least the one that was still operating. He throttled his Timber Wolf to a full trot as he raced after her.

  He knew Jez well enough to realize she would not break off pursuit no matter what the orders. They must have already commanded her to do so. That must be why they were sending him after her. Her willfulness would be her death one day. Perhaps this day .. .

  Trent signaled Schultz as he rushed forward, locking on to her signal. "Cover my left flank as we go. We have orders to link up with Jez and pull her back to cover the Galaxy's rear flank."

  "Aff, Star Captain," Schultz said as he matched the trotting pace of Trent's Timber Wolf. Trent checked his sensors and saw that Jez was ahead of them, moving in and out of the trees surrounding the swampy clearing. Her slow movement on the sensor display told him that a battle was raging over there, and he braced for it as he ran toward the shadows of the dense trees.

  Suddenly he was buffeted by a powerful blast that lifted his Timber Wolf off the ground. There were impacts, not from weapons, but from pieces of Schultz's OmniMech battering his own.

  The short-range sensors told him what was happening. A short-range missile carrier had opened up on Schultz the moment it had spotted him. More than thirty missiles had blown through the remains of Schultz' Mad Dog in less than two seconds. There h
ad been no time for him to eject, no time to fire, only time to die. And Jez was facing two other Com Guard 'Mechs in the middle of what must have been a Com Guard forward command post or repair base concealed at the edge of the clearing. Infantry blasted away with shoulder-mounted missile launchers and manpack PPCs, slowly but surely, destroying her Warhawk.

  Trent was not about to accept Schultz's fate. He locked onto the withdrawing SRM carrier and let go with his long-range missiles. The warheads raced across the smoke-filled base and into the carrier. Digging through its side armor, the blasts ate into the vehicle's magazines, setting off its weapons in a massive explosion.

  He was pivoting just as one of Jez's attackers, a stark white Crab, broke off and fired a wild shot in his direction, missing by at least five meters. Trent was hoping for just such a shot, one that would let him intrude on Jez's fight without depriving her of any honor. He locked on with his last salvo of long-range missiles and let them fly the millisecond he heard the lock tone on the stout Crab.

  Most of the missiles found their mark on the enemy 'Mech's right side, ripping its arm off and sending a shower of smoke and sparks into the air. At least two of the missiles streaked past the Crab, pounding into Jez's 'Mech. That warrior is good. He has tricked me into doing damage to my own people . .. The Com Guard 'Mech twisted at the torso under the impact of the blast, but quickly returned fire from its deadly large laser. The shot dug into the left leg of Trent's Timber Wolf, popping off the ferro-fibrous armor in a series of rattling explosions. The heat rose slightly in his cockpit as he moved to the left of the Crab, making it harder for the enemy 'Mech to maintain its weapons lock. Keeping his distance, Trent knew he could optimize his long-range weapons against the injured 'Mech.

  He held his fire until he had cleared the distance between them, then opened up with his large lasers. The brilliant red lances of laser light reached out for the Crab. One beam hit the ground just past the aptly named 'Mech, sending a streak of smoke across the once green field. The other found its mark, cutting laterally into the hip of the Crab. Its armor sizzled for a second, then exploded as the shot sliced deeply into its internal structure. Myomer fibers, the "muscle" that propelled BattleMechs in combat, severed and burned, and a sickening green wisp of smoke rose into the air. The hip joint seized, if only for a instant, finally popping loose at the last moment as the Crab pilot desperately attempted to get his damaged 'Mech into a better firing stance ... or so he thought.

  Jez's fight with a nearby Com Guard Thug was turning into a deadly slugfest as the Crab spun back on her, fully exposing its back to Trent. He saw the Thug drop, its left leg blown off at the knee in an explosion of black smoke and shrapnel. Almost at the same moment the Crab spun to face her at nearly point-blank range. Jez never saw where the shots came from, and the assault was devastation. The Crab's small and medium lasers sent out a wall of pulsating light, gouging into the armpit of Jez's Warhawk, stabbing upward because of the Crab's lower posture. A secondary explosion from within the guts of Jez's OmniMech sent her left weapons pod flying into an infantry position while the Crab's remaining large laser boiled off what remained of her rear armor.

  Jez pivoted to face her foe, swinging the stump of her mangled arm like a club. In a difficult piloting move, the Crab pilot evaded the swinging arm by putting his 'Mech into a crouch. Rather than return fire, it moved in close and kept to the side of the Warhawk, giving Jez a kick that caved in most of the Warhawk's leg. Trent was impressed. To dodge, turn, and still attack at such range was the mark of a warrior worthy of a Jaguar in combat.

  Trent could not let Jez die. They were both Smoke Jaguars, no matter what were his feelings for her. Her 'Mech had taken a lot of damage, and if he didn't leap to her defense, she would die. Then he saw what the Crab pilot had done and could not help but feel admiration. A worthy foe indeed. From the way the 'Mechs were positioned and their close proximity, Trent would hit Jez's dying Warhawk if he fired at the Crab and missed. The choice was his. Hold his fire and move to her flank, possibly allowing Jez to die, or open fire.

  For Trent, a Smoke Jaguar as surely as if the Jaguar's heart beat in his own chest, there was no choice.

  As his targeting cross hairs arced down on the Crab and his weapons hummed with preheat energy, he suddenly hoped that the Crab pilot would somehow survive his attack. He or she would make a fine addition to Clan Smoke Jaguar as a bondsman. Any warrior willing to place him or herself between two foes and take both on at the same time was a worthy prize of battle.

  Trent held his stance and fired with everything he had, hitting the rear flank of the Crab with a horrific blast of laser fire. The bright red and green laser beams sliced into the armor deeply and brutally, and slabs of armor sprayed off into the air. None of his shots had missed ... Jez lived for now.

  The Crab warrior held his own, firing steadily at Jez as she finally turned her 'Mech so she could retaliate. The Com Guard Mech Warrior stayed with his 'Mech long enough for Jez's Warhawk to shred two tons of his armor in a wracking series of laser blasts doled out at devastating range. The superior Clan technology held. The Warhawk stood its ground, readying for a kill.

  Trent's shots ensured that Jez would not have the honor of dying on the field. He had locked onto the Crab's damaged hip region, and his lasers had done their job well. A burp of black smoke and green coolant spilled from the area he'd struck. There was a flash of flame as the hip actuator superheated and exploded violently, knocking the Crab down and out of the battle. Its pilot knew that the 'Mech was all but-finished. Trent saw the cockpit blast clear and the ejection seat rise up on a white wisp of smoke over the battlefield. Punch out.

  Jez swept the retreating Com Guard infantry with her lasers, hitting only one trooper, but pressing the others deep into their foxholes and trenches with the fiery display. Trent opened a broad-band signal to the entire area. "Pilot of the Com Guard Crab, I claim you as isorla in the name of the Smoke Jaguars."

  His communications channel came to life as Jez spoke to him. "You dared violate my honor by firing on that Crab, quiaff? I shall face and kill you for your actions."

  "The Crab fired at me first, Jez. No honor was lost. We have orders to fall back and act as rear guard. You will accompany me," Trent replied curtly.

  "Orders to fall back? That is not the way of the Jaguar warrior."

  "It is the way of all warriors to follow orders of superiors, and yours come from Galaxy command. We must leave now."

  Jez did not get a chance to respond. From the eastern edge of the clearing a swarm of Com Guard BattleMechs rose from the muck and mire and took firing stance, lighting up Trent's short-range sensors. He saw the count of enemy targets on the display and felt his mouth go dry. Ten! Trent instantly understood why he had been ordered to withdraw. Apparently the Com Guards were heading straight at him. Clan honor places victory above wasteful death. Standing and fighting here means death.

  The closest of the ten 'Mechs, a racing Hussar, was locking onto Jez at the same moment Trent triggered his extended long-range lasers. He reopened a channel to Jez. "Pull back now, Jez!" He began to move his Timber Wolf toward the center of the clearing and was preparing to break into a full run.

  "Damn you," she said, finally conceding and moving toward him. "When this is done, you will die at my hand in a Circle of Equals."

  "Later, then. For now, do your duty and move out!"

  His sensors showed a Star of Smoke Jaguars closing in, rushing in to reinforce them, but they were still precious seconds away. Jez's 'Mech moved past him, and Trent cursed her silently. No matter what he did or said, she would bend it to her purposes, twist the truth to fit her vision of the events. He did not need this, not with his chance at a bloodname so close at hand. Perhaps she will die first. No question of honor must taint me when I am presented for the Trials . . .

  Suddenly the mud and swampy waters seemed to erupt all around his Timber Wolf. Fiery clods of muck, peat, and bog splattered against the Wolf as if the very ground of
Tukayyid was exploding under him. As the 'Mech pitched, he compensated. Flames licked upward at him from the ground.

  Trent's targeting computer demanded his attention as the 'Mech rocked. Artillery—and Arrow missiles. The enemy 'Mechs were not confronting him in a direct fight, but wanted him dead without honor. He turned his 'Mech to try and get free. It was a move he would never complete.

  The second barrage did not rip at the soil but found its mark on his already-battered Timber Wolf. Artillery rounds shattered his shoulder-mounted missile racks, turning them into debris in an instant. A blast of warmth seemed to wrap his body as he saw the image of a ComStar Hussar still racing straight at him, its laser blazing as Trent's 'Mech staggered like a drunkard. One of the Arrow VI missiles went off on his foot, then another dug deeply into his shoulder, ripping the weapons pod away from the Timber Wolfs left torso with a thunderous blast. His 'Mech was dying, but Trent knew he had to survive. Somehow.

  There was no time to fire or move. The Timber Wolf began to tumble as countless artillery rounds rained down on him. The 'Mech quaked under each impact, and Trent's brain shrieked as the battle computer sent a stream of neural feedback into his neurohelmet. Trent wanted to scream and may have, but the deafening echoes of explosions drowned out every sound around him. His secondary display lit up as jump infantry suddenly appeared all round him. The display imploded and cracked, its plasma crackling like green and orange lightning. Other controls popped and smoked. His mind sped like a wild horse, trying to find a way out of the disaster around him.

  He reached to hit the ejection control when suddenly the viewport in front of him blew inward. A wave of flames roared to life before him. Infernos! Inferno missiles were filled with gelled petrochemicals that could generate incredible heat in a 'Mech. Given his crippled status, the use of inferno weapons meant a fiery death for him. Trent felt his body tense against the restraining straps as the flames engulfed his arms. His neurohelmet visor popped off from the blast, and flames lapped inward at his eyes. The smell of cooking meat filled his nostrils, and he knew that the smell was his own flesh.