Impetus of War

by Blaine Lee Pardoe

  "In other words, Greg," he added, "we're posing as Jaguars so we've got to act like Jaguars. Besides, we don't have the forces it would take to garrison or run a base of this size even if we won. Remember, this isn't a war of occupation. We simply want to get the Cats' attention.

  "Once we have our charges, we'll proceed on to a small system that both the Explorer Corps files and Kerndon have briefed us on. It's only one jump away, which is good because we're going to need that battery charge for the next hop. The system is known as Boltin, and the Nova Cats have a supply base there. We'll hit them there and hit them hard. The Kobayashi will stay and wait for us there, building up enough of a charge that she can get us back to Wayside on the return trip.

  "Our next stop is Tarnby, the end of the line. The Nova Cats have two Clusters there, one of them a front-line unit— the 100th Strike Cluster. Our goal will be to take possession of Tarnby's HPG facility, even if just for a short time. If they aren't on our trail after that, I don't know what will get them there."

  "Sir?" the burly Sumpter Burke spoke up from the front row. "How are we going to take on all the units you're talking about with only ten OmniMechs of our own?"

  "You're thinking too much like an Inner Sphere warrior, Sumpter," Loren said. "Clan bidding will allow us to be very selective about what we commit in the way of forces as long as we choose specific targets. The Nova Cats won't throw an entire Cluster at us if we let them know what we're coming in with and just how small are the targets we want to take."

  There was one more sensitive point he still had to address. "We also know that the Clans carefully check the genetic patterns of anyone killed on a battlefield. We can't afford for them to learn that any of us aren't actually Smoke Jaguars. That means no one will be left behind, living or dead. If there's blood in a cockpit, I want it burned totally—without a trace left. If you're unable to recover a dead comrade, we'll have to destroy anything that would allow their scientists to learn our true backgrounds."

  "You're asking us to desecrate our dead, Major?" Ralston McAnis asked.

  Loren kept his expression neutral. "That's right, Sergeant. And that goes for me too. I expect you or anyone else on this mission to char me beyond any hope of recovery if that becomes necessary."

  Before anyone could protest further, Loren pressed on. "Now then," he said looking over the crew, "who here has zero-g experience?" The question was rhetorical, but he asked it anyway. He had gone over the Guards' personnel records several times before leaving Wayside. His choices for mock Smoke Jaguars had not been made casually.

  "Sir," Gregory Hector spoke up again. "I had some hands-on experience a few years ago during a raid on the orbital facility on Ballynure." He shrugged. "It's been a while, but I've done it before."

  "Excellent. Okay, everyone, get to your jump stations and secure for a leap out of system. Greg, download the specifications for this jump station. Concentrate on the exterior as a possible operations area. Corporal Killfries, I'll need to borrow your Black Hawk for this one."

  "Yes sir," the tall mustached man replied, unsure why this OmniMech had been singled out.

  Loren would explain later, if this plan worked. "Mitch," he called, scanning the group for his technician.

  "Sir," Captain Fraser returned.

  "Mitch, tell me we've got some of those exterior magnetic foot adapters on board."

  The slightly balding Chief Tech nodded.

  "Rig them to Lieutenant Hector's Masakari and the Black Hawk." The time has come to show the Nova Cats what the Smoke Jaguars are capable of...

  * * *

  Loren answered the rap on his stateroom door and was surprised to see Kerndon standing there, the man's powerful frame filling the narrow doorway. Usually a DropShip offered staterooms only for officers, but with such a small force on board, Loren and almost all his troops had the luxury of individual rooms.

  The former Clansman's expression was unyielding, offering no glimpse of his emotions. Loren motioned for him to sit down, then waited for his bondsman to speak.

  "We are recharging for the next jump," Kerndon said. "I came to discuss your batchall to the Nova Cats."

  Loren nodded. He too had wanted to speak with Kerndon before the actual transmission of the formal batchall, but there'd been no time until now.

  "A Smoke Jaguar batchall is not simply a statement of the intended target or a challenge to a fellow warrior," Kerndon said. "It is a statement of power. This I was taught my entire life." He looked down for a moment at the thrice-wrapped bond cord around his wrist. "With the Inner Sphere, we usually declared our intended target and asked what defense would be mounted. But you have another option, Major Loren, though it was rarely used. You can issue the batchall and tell them what you intend to attack with."

  Loren weighed his bondsman's words. "What's the advantage of that?"

  "The Nova Cats would cede to you the choice of the battleground."

  "Well, that could be handy because I intended to go in with two of our 'Mechs, and I think the station's exterior surface would be the best place for the fight. From the data you've provided us, they rely heavily on Elementals. I don't know anything about Elementals being used in a zero-g environment, but I assume they've been trained for it. Using the exterior of the recharge station would even the odds, because we'd be working in no gravity and no atmosphere."

  "Aff," Kerndon said. "But you will have to conceal your face during the transmission. Their scientist caste will attempt to scan your face and compare it with known genetic profiles for the Smoke Jaguars." Between the scannings and the recovery of dead DNA samples for testing, Loren began to understand the importance of the scientist caste among the Clans. Whoever controlled the genes, controlled the Clans— that much was becoming obvious.

  Kerndon spoke sternly. "Our batchall must be visual. The Jaguar warrior wants to strike fear in the heart of his intended foe."

  "But my face will be covered."

  "I must speak to this one you call Mitch. We must create a mask of the Jaguar. The use of such a mask is not uncommon. It is used to show authority."

  "Is there anything else I should know before going into this?" Loren asked.

  "We will need to practice, Major Loren," Kerndon said flatly. "You must learn to talk like a Smoke Jaguar. You must speak with the fire of battle burning in your veins. You must speak from total superiority. From this time on, you must live as if the heart of the Jaguar beats in your chest."

  23

  DropShip Bull Run, Cat's Eye 009 Recharge Station

  System EC-EY-4170

  Deep Periphery

  8 July 3058

  The hyperspace jump to the EC-EY-4170 system included one small element of risk that had nothing to do with the Nova Cats. Jumping between stars was a feat meant to be accomplished slowly and methodically, not rushed the way the Fusiliers were doing.

  It took time for the ship's computers to calculate the coordinates of the next jump point exactly, so the ship wouldn't rip apart in a gravity well on arrival. Two jumps in rapid succession carried a risk because on some occasions the delicate drive core could misalign. A prudent and careful commander would wait some time between jumps, making sure the core was in perfect alignment and the calculations verified several times over. A second jump, so short a time after their first, might fail, but the odds were worth it in Loren's mind.

  He stood in his stateroom and adjusted the gray cape that had been quickly sewn from one of the shipboard blankets. The mask he wore had been carved from a ball of foam insulation used primarily in emergency repairs on the ship. It was a wide cat's face, with deep-set eyes. Its mouth was open and the fangs were bared.

  The mask looked crude, but from what Kerndon told him that would not be unexpected. Intended to show Clan pride and honor, such a mask was more bravado than art. Loren didn't totally understand this business of Clan masks, but he was sure of one thing—Captain Mitchell Fraser should not pursue a career as an artist.

  The ship's comm
officer had relayed a camera and audio set into the stateroom. Loren had personally painted a large "T" for the Tau Galaxy behind him on the flat gray bulkhead. The illusion was important; in fact, it was all he had to count on.

  "Major," came the voice of Captain Spillman over the intercom. "This Nova Cat station is only a thousand kilometers from our current position. Our sensors show they've got active scanners running, so they must know we're here by now. I suggest you do whatever it is yer gonna do before they decide to scramble fighters after us."

  Loren was adjusting the mask over his face as Kerndon entered the room, taking up a place beyond where the holocamera would pick up his image. They had practiced this several times, Loren walking through the nuances of the batchall with Kerndon's biting critique. Now the time had come to play the role for real. He activated the intercom to the bridge of the Bull Run. "Understood. Comm officer, open a channel with the Nova Cats. If they demand identification, tell them nothing."

  The comm officer replied quickly. There was a pause for several beats of Loren's heart before he heard her come back on the line. "You're on in three seconds, Major."

  The little green light on top of the holoprojector came on and Loren stood staring at the camera system. The receiving system consisted of a floor-mounted circular disk rimmed with lights to control and maintain the image. The camera system consisted of three tripod-mounted cameras to catch him at a number of angles, as well as a computer-enhancement system in the hand-held control pad that generated elements of the image the cameras didn't capture. With the control pad he was able to control both the receiver and the transmitter, in this case tied into the ship's communications array.

  Loren had played many roles in his career—Mech Warrior, officer, terrorist, loyal Capellan, spy, saboteur, and Northwind Highlander. This should have been another role, another acting job, something required to fulfill a mission objective. Somehow, it felt different. Before, the stakes had always been for nation. This is for the survival of the Fusiliers. For the first time ever I have a family. Even if I fail and somehow survive all of this, I will die inside.

  "Nova Cats, I am Star Colonel Loren of the Smoke Jaguars. Hear my batchall and quake with fear in your dens." His voice boomed, as arrogant and proud as he could make it. "I stalk you like my namesake and will toss your fetid carcass into the flames of defeat."

  He paused to let the words of his batchall have their effect. "I come in the name of the one true Clan, the Jaguars, to take from you in a Trial of Possession four of your charges. Like a true warrior, I come at you with two of my OmniMechs, knowing that whatever you send at me will be crushed under their feet. This I do in the name of my Clan.

  "With what do defend yourself? What warriors do you wish to send to their deaths?" Loren paused, and Kerndon shut off the projector and gave him a nod-like salute.

  "They will acknowledge your batchall and bid internally for the right to destroy you."

  "Message incoming, sir," the comm officer signaled. "Relaying now." The audio would come through the built-in ceiling speaker tied into the DropShip's communications system.

  The holographic camera also acted as a miniature projector. In front of Loren appeared the image of a man dressed in a black uniform with a hooded cape. The image stood facing him, even though it was the size of a child's toy doll. "This is Star Commander Edward of Cat's Eye Command Number Nine of Clan Nova Cat—the true followers of the vision of Nicholas Kerensky. We have received your bid and acknowledge the forces you will deploy. You are rash like the rest of your Clan, Jaguar, and cannot hope for victory. We shall teach you the power of inspired vision. I will contact you within the hour to tell you our defense." The small image disappeared.

  "How did I do?" Loren asked, removing the mask and letting the cool ship's air sting at the sweat on his face.

  "Major Loren," Kerndon said coolly, "you have potential."

  * * *

  Mitch Fraser stood with his hand-held stress analyzer and ran another sweep of the Black Hawk Loren was going to pilot. Loren watched with appreciation the care his tech was taking.

  "Am I set for space operations?" he asked.

  The Claymore's 'Mech bay, which had been so quiet before, was abuzz as the 'Mech pilots checked and re-checked their BattleMechs to make sure they were operational. The sounds of metallic tools hitting metal echoed in the air, and the smell of sticky-sweet lubricant bit at the back of everyone's throats.

  Mitch shut off the analyzer and turned his bloodshot gaze back to his CO. "Yes, sir, as set as anybody can be. The magnetic gear is installed and programmed into your battle computer. If this fight takes place on the surface of the station, you'll be able to walk at .7 gees."

  "Good. What about the tether?"

  "Every 'Mech we've got is equipped with a tether tie-hook. I've rigged the myomer cable for a slight electrical charge you can control through your comm system. Just enter the code and that cable will snap back from wherever you are." Myomer was the same material that gave BattleMechs their internal "muscles," allowing them to move with almost human precision. When an electrical charge was applied to a segment of myomer, the piece would contract thousands of times smaller.

  The use of myomer tether-ties for 'Mech operations in space was common. Fighting in such an environment was not. Even with the special magnetic adapters on its feet, a 'Mech could still easily be knocked free and adrift into space. Despite the durability of the ties, a lucky cockpit hit could cause explosive decompression, instantly killing the MechWarrior. Fighting in the icy and silent cold of space was not something any warrior wanted to do.

  "I hope to use it to our advantage," Loren replied, picking up and inspecting a segment of the tether.

  "Sir, what was their bid?"

  "Two Points of force. I assume they'll use at least one Point of Elementals, maybe more. Kerndon said I could ask for information on the forces we'd be facing, but he also said that a Jaguar would show more audacity by not asking. And since the Nova Cats didn't ask for our make-up, I didn't want to seem cautious."

  "So instead, you'll go in blind?"

  Loren nodded, understanding the implications even more than his friend. "In this case, yes. I'm fulfilling a role here and don't want to risk the lives of our comrades on Wayside by giving the game away right off the bat."

  "If I may ask sir, why you? Why do you have to do this?" Mitch wanted to know.

  "I'm in command and have experience with this kind of combat," Loren said. That was true enough, but it was more than that. I have to do this, to prove something to myself.

  "If anything happens to you, the entire regiment will die back on Wayside," Mitch said.

  Loren put one hand on Mitch's shoulder. "No," he said, "if anything happens to me, you'll have to carry on with the mission." -

  "Me?" Mitch was flabbergasted.

  "Of course you," Loren said. "You're the ranking command officer, Captain. If I die, you'll have to make sure this mission comes off successfully. I've left detailed plans covering the mission in your directory."

  "Major Jaffray," Mitch almost wailed. "I'm a technician, not a Mech Warrior. I can't accept that kind of responsibility."

  "Mitch, you're a Northwind Highlander and a Fusilier— first and foremost. You're as worried as the next man about the Colonel and the others back on Wayside. You won't let them—or me—down. I know—"

  His words were cut off by the blare of the ship's intercom. "Major Jaffray, incoming message from Cat's Eye Recharge Station. The Nova Cats demand to respond to your batchall, sir." The voice came from the far-off bridge and the comm officer there.

  "I have to go," Mitch Fraser said, his face suddenly pale.

  "So do I. Where're you off to?" Loren asked as he turned toward the ladder to the upper deck.

  "Well, sir," Mitch Fraser said, "I'm going to go and pray like hell that you live through this."

  24

  Cat's Eye 009 Recharge Station

  System EC-EY-4170

  Deep P
eriphery

  8 July 3058

  Loren's borrowed Black Hawk and Lieutenant Hector's Masakari stood on the undersurface of the recharge station as the ship's engineers, working in zero-G gear, finished the necessary attachments of their myomer tethers to the bottom side of the Nova Cat base. Mitch had wired the tethers so they could be electrically charged. They were a lifeline, one that both Loren and Greg Hector would need if they followed the plan he had devised. Hector was worried about it, and Loren didn't blame him.

  The Nova Cat recharge station was long, just under a kilometer, and at least three-quarters of that wide. The slight curve to it was hardly noticeable in space, but someone like Loren, using the magnetic adapters on his feet to remain upright, took note of it. His training kicked in almost instantly as he studied the projections along the bottom, some only a meter or two tall, some, like a nearby antenna array, standing twice the size of his OmniMech. This would provide more than ample cover for the Elementals, making the fight with them all the more difficult. For us, it means the Nova Cat 'Mech will be able to provide long range fire support using the projections and sensors to block some of our shots.

  Loren checked the comm board and saw that no power was currently running to the myomer line. Both he and Hector had enough power to reach the other side of the base, if necessary. Myomer cable, all on its own, was powerful enough to hold a 'Mech, but electrically charged, it was even more so. Loren knew his physics well enough to know the importance of that line. If the magnetic couplings on the Black Hawk's feet got damaged or came off somehow, he would be adrift. Motion, any motion, would become his enemy.

  Perfectly on time he saw the arrival of the opposing 'Mech and Elementals at the far end of the station. It was a massive Gladiator—or an Executioner in Clan nomenclature. Bristling with weapons, it was menacing. The cockpit, shaped like a human head, seemed to look down on them with evil intent as the Clan technicians performed the same sort of attachments Loren and Lieutenant Hector had just finished.