Exodus road

by Blaine Lee Pardoe

  "Perhaps," Trent said. "Howell is involved with smuggling goods from the Inner Sphere to Huntress."

  Judith shook her head slightly. "That does not sound very honorable."

  "Neg, it is not what you think. He sees it as the only way to get equipment for his solahma troops. The Khans do not equip the two Galaxies here with sufficient gear. They get whatever old equipment happens to be around and whatever he has been able to improvise. This smuggling he is running is not aimed at profit, but at making sure that the defense of Huntress is sound."

  "It is ironic. On the way here, we were forced to destroy an Explorer Corps mission whose goal is the same as ours. Now, you speak as if this smuggling operation might offer us a chance to return to the Inner Sphere ... Yet it is an operation aimed at strengthening the defense of this place."

  Trent nodded. It was truly a paradox. "I am meeting him this evening and hope to put a thought in his brain. I have an idea, and I think I know how to get Galaxy Commander Howell to see things from my point of view."

  "Good luck. The information we have gathered on the Exodus Road is of no value unless we can get it away from here and back to the Inner Sphere."

  "Aye, Judith. That is so."

  * * *

  Trent entered Galaxy Commander Benjamin Howell's quarters and saw that the small work/dining table was set for a formal meal. Howell wore a casual uniform and smiled as he motioned for Trent to have a seat. Howell was different than Trent remembered from years past. Gone was his sharp edge. Perhaps his failures have taken the fight out of him.

  "I am pleased that you have come to dine with me this night," Howell began. "Tonight the members of the Golden Fang Sibko are executing their Trials of Position for a new Galaxy that is being formed."

  He activated the holoviewer against one wall. "The Trials are broadcast to all officers, and I thought you might wish to watch." The holoviewer flickered to life, showing an arena with five OmniMechs poised at the outer edges. The Trial had not yet begun.

  Satisfied that the image was clear enough, Howell turned back to Trent. "I have a traditional Huntress meal for you— not what our mess hall cooks usually prepare. Bolton steaks, leeks from the Dhuan swamps, Steel Viper eggs from the depths of the Shikari jungles. I think you will find it pleasing."

  Trent looked at his plate, happy that it was not the typical military fare he had been on since leaving Hyner. "From one warrior to another, such food is appreciated, Galaxy Commander."

  "There is no need for formality here, Trent. I am Benjamin."

  Trent took a bite of the steak, its taste hot and peppery in his mouth. "Spending time with you is appreciated," he said, "but I hope to begin the trip back soon."

  Benjamin's fork hesitated on the trip to his mouth, and he lowered it back to his plate. "Interesting that you mentioned this. I received a communications packet from Star Colonel Paul Moon almost three weeks ago, Trent. He has petitioned me to accept your transfer into the Iron Guards Galaxy. He cited your age and lack of bloodname as justification."

  Trent was not surprised by the news and maintained his composure. "And your thoughts on this?"

  "You will be of an age for assignment to a solahma unit by the time you would return to the Inner Sphere," Howell said slowly as though not wanting to offend. "And I must admit, having you, an old friend and protége, here has some appeal. There are several special projects underway, operations hidden in the jungles south of here. Our breeding program has been expanded greatly, and I have several of the new sibkos assigned to testing these covert projects. When they are complete, the Inner Sphere will be facing a new technological terror and will again fear the roar of the Jaguar."

  "New technology, quiaff?"

  "Affirmative. Our scientist caste is remarkable. While our comrades in the Inner Sphere have allowed those filthy freebirths to catch up with our technological edge, here on Huntress we are forging the new weapons to retake Terra."

  Trent wanted to press further, but he was afraid of tipping his hand or putting Howell on guard. For now, his curiosity would have to wait. "I have been thinking," he said between bites. "I can be of use to you in the Inner Sphere."

  Benjamin tipped his head and raised one eyebrow. "How is that?"

  "You need arms and armaments for your forces here. As a warrior, I could gain access to a wide variety of equipment. My having a bondsman as a tech could also prove useful to your efforts. Combined with whatever operations you already have in place, you might find me a great asset, quiaff?"

  On the holoviewer, the Trial began as the OmniMechs swept in on each other, weapons blazing. One of the 'Mechs fell quickly in a holographic explosion, the warrior ejecting just as his 'Mech went up in flames. Trent and Howell cast occasional glances at the holovid as they spoke, then turned back to each other.

  "What you say has merit, Trent. Why would you make such an offer, though? My actions must seem on the far side of honor."

  "Aff, but I understand your logic. You know me well enough to understand that I seek only to fight and die in honorable combat. I will not find that here on Huntress. If I did return to the Inner Sphere and then eventually get re-assigned back to you, the knowledge that I had helped equip Zeta Galaxy would mean a great deal to me. From my perspective, I can only win from such an arrangement."

  Howell had turned back to the holoviewer, watching for a moment as a Summoner toppled over in response to a barrage by a devastating Warhawk. "I have neither acknowledged nor accepted the request from your Star Colonel Moon."

  "I am grateful," Trent said. "And I would consider it a personal favor if you would let me return instead to the Inner Sphere." He paused and thought hard about his next words before speaking. "After you withdrew my nomination for the Howell bloodname, I wanted to kill you. But now I see that you have been as much a victim of politics as I have and that my lust for revenge was misplaced."

  The two fell silent again as they; watched another one of the Trial contestants, a Mad Dog, being shredded and destroyed by the sheer firepower of the battered Warhawk. The Warhawk walked backward, putting enough distance between itself and the remaining contestant, a Timber Wolf, to unleash his 'Mech's deadly PPCs. The Timber Wolf sagged under the brilliant blue lightning, then tipped over, slowly, almost drunkenly.

  "Spectacular, is it not?" Howell said, shaking his head in admiration.

  "He may have earned the rank of Star Captain with that kill," Trent said, reading the name of the combatant appearing on the holoviewer. Kerndon ... this was one to watch. "So, Trent, you would like to be sent back to the Inner Sphere?" Howell took a sip from his glass. "Perhaps this would be a chance for me to right a wrong I have done you. I cost you your bloodname, but will not deprive you of a chance to die as a real warrior.

  "For your actions on Pivot, an engagement that successfully protected the location of the homeworlds from our enemies, I hereby refuse the request of Star Colonel Moon. You will return to the Inner Sphere on assignment. And when you do, you will 'assist' the special operation I have revealed to you."

  "I will not disappoint you, Benjamin," Trent said in a calm tone that belied his true feelings.

  "You never have, Trent." Benjamin Howell set his glass down. "The Dhava and the Admiral Andrews will complete their maintenance in a few days. You will take command of a Trinary of replacement troops and equipment on its way to the Inner Sphere."

  "Tonight," Trent said, lifting his glass in a toast, "let the Smoke Jaguar roar at the moon and our enemies tremble in their skins ..."

  28

  Jaguar Spaceport

  Lootera, Huntress

  Kerensky Cluster, Clan Space

  12 March 3056

  The fifteen warriors followed the sibko instructor out onto the spaceport tarmac to where Galaxy Commander Benjamin Howell and Trent stood. It was mid-afternoon, the only time of day when the sun managed to break through Huntress' seemingly endless murky skies. The Kit Master, a warrior older than Trent, bore the rank of Star Captain. Her hair
was black but streaked with gray.

  She was a warrior who now spent her days training a sibko of cadets, and Trent wondered if she felt bitter at being deprived of the only thing for which she had been born and bred—a life in the field. A life of combat. He would never understand that this was all a Clan warrior had to look forward to if he or she did not earn a bloodname or die in battle. What else could a warrior do but make war?

  She held a small noteputer in her armpit as she stood at the head of the formation of newly qualified warriors. "I am Star Captain Glenda, Kit Master for these so-called warriors."

  Trent was familiar with the nuances of the Smoke Jaguar ritual of assuming command from another officer. "I am Star Captain Trent, and these warriors are now mine to lead."

  "Command is not assumed but taken by the prowess of blood in battle," she replied.

  Trent bowed his head to acknowledge her words. The ritual called for the shedding of blood, and was sometimes simply a gesture, sometimes a full-blown test of combat skill. Trent had already decided which it was to be. He stepped forward and threw a furious jab with his right fist. Enhanced by myomer muscles, his attack was faster than any normal warrior's, though Glenda did try to dodge to the side. His fist dug into her cheek, twisting her face and head under the impact. She lost her balance, spinning and falling to the steaming surface of the tarmac. She was quickly back on her feet, a thin stream of blood trickling out the corner of her mouth.

  "Blood has been drawn," she said, picking up the note-puter and handing it to him. "Duty fulfilled." Rubbing her jaw once, Glenda then pivoted and marched away, leaving Trent with the Trinary of troops.

  He faced them squarely and barked his order clearly. "Trinary, fall in!" In swift precision they marched off toward the DropShip Dhava, which stood awaiting them in the distance. Trent watched them walk off, then turned to Benjamin Howell, who stepped up next to him.

  "You have the names of my contacts in the Inner Sphere, quiaff?" Howell said.

  Trent nodded.

  "Excellent. This Trinary is intended as replacements for Delta Galaxy. Your Star Colonel Moon will be receiving word in the coming months that his request for you to be assigned to Huntress is denied, but I may see to it that the message is lost in transmission. Either way, you must depart immediately.

  "One day, Trent, you may be returned here as solahma. Should that day come, I will be proud to have you under my command."

  Trent did not think he would ever see Benjamin Howell again, but said nothing. If he returned to Huntress, it would be at the head of a force against it—never to fight here in defense of the Smoke Jaguars.

  He gave Howell a salute, executed his most precise pivot, and set off toward the waiting DropShip.

  * * *

  In the near-zero gravity of the Dhava's exercise room, Trent jogged on the specially designed treadmill, sweat glistening over his natural skin as he pushed for yet another kilometer.

  His shirt was mostly soaked in sweat, as were his shorts, but he knew the importance of staying fit, especially on such a long journey. He looked up and saw Judith enter the room, using handholds to navigate her way to the harness straps for the weight resistance gear. "May I join you?" she asked.

  Trent nodded as he puffed each breath out steadily. Reaching up, he tapped the button to cut his speed, lessening the tension on the harness that held him over the device.

  Judith finished strapping herself into the trainer and keyed in the amount of resistance she desired, then began bench-pressing against the resistance pads. "I did not see you in the observation lounge during liftoff," she said, catching her breath after one set. "Over the past week you have become so quiet and withdrawn. Is something wrong?"

  Trent switched off the treadmill and came to a stop, leaning on his forearms and drawing in several gulps of air. "Now that we are actually heading back to the Inner Sphere, I have much on my mind."

  "What we have accomplished in the last few weeks is remarkable, do you not agree, quiaff?"

  "Aff," Trent said. Judith was right. The data they had gathered on the Huntress system and its defenses was priceless. They had stumbled onto a number of interesting details from their contacts in the warrior and technician castes— everything from information about the undersea base to hints of the covert sibko and training project deep in the jungles. "We have more than enough information for your contacts in ComStar. They should be pleased with our work."

  She waited to see if he would say more, then asked, "Do you wish to talk?"

  Trent toweled away the sweat that clung to the left side of his face and unfastened the harness. "My resolve has not wavered, Judith. It is just that I am thinking not of our actions, but the results of those actions."

  "I do not understand," she grunted, pushing up on the resistance bar with all of her might.

  "What we are doing is the right thing. Once I reached that decision I never questioned it. But what will the Inner Sphere do with the coordinates and locations that we are providing them? I am a warrior. I can only assume they will use it to mount some sort of assault against the Smoke Jaguars."

  Judith stopped for a second and sat up, looking at Trent as he stepped off the treadmill. "Aye, I expect they will."

  "If the Inner Sphere brings war to Huntress, many innocent people will die, people who have no concept of the Inner Sphere's way of waging war." Clan tradition called for warriors to only fight other warriors. There were no raids on industrial facilities. If a commander wanted to seize a town, he would simply issue a batchall for it, a combat trial would be fought, and the victor would control the town.

  It was different in the Inner Sphere, where the Jaguars and the other Clans had faced an enemy who struck at resources as well as opposing warriors. The simple elegance of the Clan way was lost in the Inner Sphere. They did not seem to abhor waste if it meant victory, while to the Clans the destruction of resources was nearly unthinkable.

  Judith nodded in understanding. "From what I have seen here, the lower castes and the Jaguars as a whole would be appalled at the way the Inner Sphere fights. The people of the homeworlds are far from what has happened in the Inner Sphere. What information they do get is carefully filtered and distilled for them. What they consider to be 'barbaric' is the norm in the militaries of the Inner Sphere—including even the Star League Defense Force from which the Clans evolved."

  Trent heard her words and closed his eyes, rubbing the metallic circle of silvery circuitry around his right eye as if it would ease his mind. "The question I have been pondering is whether I am taking the Smoke Jaguars into a potentially genocidal fight?"

  "Trent," Judith said, using his name rather than his rank for the first time since she had known him. "You are doing what must be done. You are humane. When the people of Chinn were going to be annihilated, you risked your own life to save them. From what I have been taught and read, the great Kerenskys never envisioned their people as destroyers. But that is what our Khans would turn us into. Think of those who were murdered in Edo, Chinn, Beaver Falls—all in the name of retribution, revenge, punishment. They were innocents, innocents who were executed in the name of Jaguar justice."

  "That is the point, Judith. I have had much time to think of what will be the outcome of our plan, and I fear that I will be doing to my kindred what my superiors have done to innocents of the Inner Sphere."

  "Neg," Judith replied. "The warrior caste wages war because they are bred to it. That is who they are, all the know. The commanders play politics with their officers' lives, yet in the same breath condemn such actions if challenged.

  "The truth of the matter, Trent, is that our plan is on the side of right. If the Inner Sphere ever does strike at the Smoke Jaguars—if they take the fight straight to every member of the Clan in every caste, maybe then this invasion and the killing can come to a stop."

  Trent wrapped a towel around his neck and turned to leave. Judith's logic was sound. He had mulled it over thousands of times and had arrived at the same con
clusion.

  "We will take readings along the way back," he said, "checking both the neutrino and spectral analysis from our voyage in. Oftentimes ships follow different jump routes along the Exodus Road, and we need to take that into account.

  "If we are going to complete this act of honor, we must do it right."

  29

  DropShip Dhava

  Zenith Jump Point, Unnamed Planet

  The Exodus Road

  27 May 3056

  Trent felt a slight wave of dizziness as the JumpShip Admiral Andrews emerged at the jump point of this unnamed world. He was finding the long trip back to the Inner Sphere even slower and more tedious than before, especially since their ship had been forced to wait at two recharge stations while priority went to several other starships bound for the Inner Sphere. Star Commander Allen had not said much, other than that those ships were headed for a planet called Wayside V and were assigned to the newly formed Tau Galaxy. It made no matter to Trent. He had his own concerns. They could not wait, but he had no choice.

  The Trinary given to him to command while the unit traveled to its new posting in the Inner Sphere was proving to be a real challenge. It was not their skills that were lacking. On the contrary, from what Trent had seen of their ratings in the simulator pods and in workouts, they were skilled. It was their attitude that was disturbing. Among themselves, they behaved as warriors should toward one another, but they were contemptuous of him, almost to the point of insubordination. Compared to the solahma warriors he had brought back to Huntress, these green trueborns were arrogant.

  Trent was in his cabin dressing, readying himself for a meeting with these green troops. He looked in the mirror and touched the synthskin on the right side of his face. He rarely thought about the scars and changes to his face, but seeing his reflection now, he suddenly remembered what his face had been before the bloodbath on Tukayyid, the face he had worn before the fires changed him forever. It had been the face of a younger warrior ... like the warriors in my command.