Impetus of War

by Blaine Lee Pardoe

  * * *

  At one hundred tons the Behemoth was an awesome killing machine capable of inflicting a lot of damage. Kerndon's disembodied voice came in from his post aboard the Bull Run. "The Behemoth is a Smoke Jaguar 'Mech. It must have been taken during a Trial of Possession or won as a prize from someone in the battle for this world."

  "I thought they were going to come at us with a Star's worth?" That was Lieutenant McBride swinging her Vulture around in the opposite direction of the sensor readings to cover their rear. All that stood between her and the flat open space of the desert was the one remaining structure, the warehouse. Inside it, Loren knew that Glenda Jura was finishing her work.

  "The day is still young," Loren replied. "Keep your eyes on the long-range scanners. The rest of the 'Mechs they bid could be out there just beyond our reach."

  "Nothing so far," Macallen said. "Those Cats are just sitting there."

  Loren stayed his hand and held off. He felt the same nagging uneasiness as when seeing the capped-off water main in the warehouse/pumping facility. He just didn't know why.

  "Everyone hold your fire and your ground," he ordered. "Glenda, what's your status?"

  There was a pause followed by the breathy voice of Lieutenant Jura on the commline. "Charges are set in place. Everything is tied to command channel ten. If you transmit any digital message of five or higher, you'll trigger the initial blast. I'm guessing the explosion will take place four seconds later."

  "Excellent," he replied. "I don't know what the Nova Cats are up to, but everyone needs to tie in this conversation," he said, scrambling his message. "Glenda has rigged us a Dust Air Implosion trap inside that warehouse with some dried flour. If the Nova Cats hit us, we fall back and let them get inside that building for cover, then set off the DAI."

  He checked his sensors again and saw that the three Nova Cats still stood abreast, just beyond weapons range. Then he looked through his viewpoint across the shimmering sands of Boltin and saw the black outlines of the same Clan 'Mechs wavering in the ripples of heat coming off the sand. They stood like statues, or gods long forgotten.

  "Why are they just sitting out there?" Macallen asked.

  Loren understood her impatience. "Either they want us to make the first move, or they're getting their forces into position." His check of sensors told him that it was still only three Nova Cat BattleMechs standing there. Something was wrong. With the flat open terrain, he should be able to spot the enemy, even if they were skirting the edges of his sensor limits.

  Suddenly he saw the Nova Cats start to move. "Prepare to fall back," he said immediately. "Sumpter, Jura, and Macallen? get out of range or line of sight of their weapons. McBride, provide cover fire. Remember, people, we need to get them in near the warehouse if Glenda's little surprise is going to work."

  A flicker caught his eye as a Gauss rifle slug from the slow-moving Behemoth dug into the ruined wall next to him, exploding that section of it. A check on his sensors showed that the lumbering giant was in his range, so Loren activated his extended-range PPCs, preheating and charging the four weapons with enough power to wipe out a platoon of conventional tanks. His targeting cross hairs swung across his HUD like a hawk swooping in on unsuspecting prey.

  Loren fired, sending a pair of bolts of charged particle energy down-range like a thunderclap, plowing squarely into the Behemoth's squat torso and throwing move than a ton of armor flying up into the dry air of Boltin. Despite the fury and raw power of the assault, the well-armored Behemoth was more than protected from the PPC barrage.

  The Rifleman IIC, the Clan equivalent of the age-old design made more menacing with their advanced technology, opened fire on Macallen's Ryoken as she moved away from the approaching Nova Cats. The brilliant red pulses of laser fire from the Clan 'Mech dug deeply into her side armor, and she spun under the damage, armor peeling back from the myomer muscle fibers, leaving them raw and exposed, some crackling with electrical arcs. Smoke rose from the hole in the side, telling a tale of much deeper damage.

  Trisha McBride leveled her large lasers at the Warhammer IIC and opened up on it at the same time it fired its pair of PPCs at her. The lasers found their mark, burrowing into the right leg of the Warhammer just below its hip actuator. One of the PPC hits tore into her Vulture's right torso. The Vulture wavered under the attack, reeling behind a mound of rubble.

  Loren fired again at the Behemoth, hitting it as it made its way into range of the bulk of his weapons. The shots from his Masakari's pair of PPCs hit just below the Behemoth's shoulder actuator like a haymaker punch, twisting the shoulder back with the impact. Loren then unleashed a wave of missiles that snaked inward, striking virtually the same location as the hit only a few seconds before. The ripping blasts of warheads exploding was so strong that the Behemoth pivoted even further as if to resist the results of the hit. The Nova Cat warrior just barely managed to maintain control.

  Suddenly Loren felt two distinct impacts from behind, a rumble of explosions that he knew were missiles. From behind? Impossible! Where did those shots come from? The Nova Cat BattleMechs were in front of him, leveling another barrage of death and destruction at his mock-Jaguar force. But McBride's Vulture was also reeling under an attack from the rear—from the abandoned warehouse.

  His sensors told the story. It came in the form of a flicker on his secondary monitor indicating that an Elemental was present in the warehouse. How did I miss him? Glenda and I were both in there. He saw another sensor image, if only for a few seconds as it poked up to fire, another Elemental, then yet another.

  Then it dawned on him. The capped water main with no pressure ... It all made sense. "Jaguar force, pull back from the warehouse! Enemy Elementals in the structure! Pull back to the south and brace for an explosion!" They've used the pipe to move their Elementals directly into our back pocket, and now we're sandwiched.

  He switched to short-range sensors and saw that his Star was obeying, albeit dodging and exchanging shots with the approaching Nova Cat 'Mechs. Loren moved his Masakari behind a mound of rubble that had once been a building, giving him cover from the massive Behemoth that was intent on getting him in its sights. It gave him a moment to open the communications channel and ready the detonation.

  The move was ingenious on the part of the Nova Cats. Rather than dig another deep well on their own after taking the planet from the Smoke Jaguars, they must have simply run a pipe from the old complex to their own several kilometers away. With the water turned off, the Elementals had used the pipe to sneak into the middle of Loren's defensive position, and were now sniping away at his force, trying to lure them into the warehouse so that they could be swarmed and destroyed. Loren mentally applauded the plan, whose only flaw was that the Nova Cat commander had not thought that Loren would set his own trap in the same place.

  Three Elementals rose to an open window in the building and he saw them as their short-range missiles leaped out at him. One pair found its mark while the two others hit the debris pile and sent already-ruined ferrocrete and dirt spraying into the air. Almost unconsciously, he coded in the digital signal for the detonations on channel ten, then transmitted.

  Glenda Jura had done her job well. The initial explosions inside the silo were not to cause damage but to throw the fine powder into the air, filling the entire space of the warehouse with a thick haze of the powdery flour. Any spark, laser, or missile would set it off. Sitting in the silo, the powdered substance would never burn. In the air, however, it went off instantly.

  The blast was immediate and had the desired effect. The powdered substance in the air burned instantly, and in the process sucked up all of the oxygen in the structure in less than a second. The weakened walls and ceiling of the building collapsed as the DAI's devastating secondary effect took place. The building fell inward, crushing anything and everything inside of it. The rumble shook his Masakari as Loren held his position, wondering if, somehow, any of the Nova Cat Elementals inside had survived. If they had, they were buried
under tons of debris, doomed to a slow and painful death. Dust Air Initiators were specialized explosives. Loren had used them in the Death Commandos. And Glenda, as an explosives expert, knew her craft well.

  "Jaguars," he signaled to his Star, "turn and attack!"

  * * *

  The fight had been furious and fast, but the cost was high. The trio of Nova Cats fared well early on. Trisha McBride's Vulture had taken a series of deadly hits and fallen despite Glenda Jura's efforts to draw the enemy fire. Sara Macallen's 'Mech bore the brunt of fire from the Behemoth and was so badly mauled it had spun into the desert sands, crippled and mangled. Loren himself had fired at the gargantuan Behemoth, shattering its right leg at the knee and sending it crashing forward, immobile and crippled. Suddenly, the battlefield was dead quiet and his forces moved in over their wounded and possibly dead warriors.

  A voice crackled over his neurohelmet's speakers. "Star Colonel Loren of the Smoke Jaguars, the battle is yours," came the voice of Star Captain Mandrake, speaking from what was left of his Behemoth.

  Loren said nothing in response, just glared through his cockpit viewport. Trisha and Sara are probably dead or near death, and somehow, he lives. All it would take is my thumb on the trigger and justice would be served. I have to keep asking what would a Smoke Jaguar do in this situation?

  "I stand defeated before you," Star Captain Mandrake said. "I ask that you destroy me rather than let me live with this blemish on my codex."

  Loren's logical half spoke up in his mind. When he had taken Kerndon as a bondsman, it was full of risk but it had gotten them this far. Now he had a chance to take a Nova Cat warrior as a bondsman, something that would certainly be a help in luring the Cats back to Wayside V.

  The logical part of his brain continued to speak to him, guiding his actions. I am playing the role of a Smoke Jaguar. I must act like one. Loren thumbed his primary target interlock circuit and let go a barrage of death and destruction into the cockpit of the crippled Behemoth. There was little hope of survival for Mandrake—there never had been.

  "Sir," Sumpter Burke's voice cut in. "Sara, sir, she's dead. I tried to get her out, but her cockpit—sir, it's crushed."

  "Understood. And Trisha?"

  Glenda Jura's voice came on the air. "I just got her out, sir. She's banged up from the cockpit breach, but she'll make it."

  Kerndon's voice cut in. "Major Loren, you must destroy Sara's body. No trace must remain." The words were like a slap in the face, bringing Loren back from deep thought into reality.

  He remembered the necessity, but had not wanted to face it. "Sumpter," Loren said, concentrating on the difficult order he was going to have to issue. "Mount your 'Mech and destroy Sara's remains. Leave nothing that might reveal her genetic origins to the Nova Cats. Glenda, you do the same with Trisha's cockpit once you have her out of the area. Not so much a drop of blood can be left."

  "Sir—" Sumpter Burke began.

  "You have your orders, mister," Loren said firmly. "Follow them or I will." Too much was at stake for them to let emotions cloud their actions now. There would be time later to mourn their dead.

  "Yes, sir," Burke said. Loren thought he heard the short warrior add "you bastard," but wasn't sure if it was reality or his mind playing a trick on him.

  He followed Burke a few minutes later, stopping next to the smouldering cockpit. He opened his side hatch and looked down at the fire consuming the remains of his fallen comrade. With an almost casual toss, he threw something into the fire that he did not intend to burn. What fell into the smoking cockpit was a bracelet of sorts, one of white with a small chip mounted on it. It was part of the attire of any Clan warrior, something he or she would never part with. Leaving it would verify the remains as those of a Smoke Jaguar. He had ordered the medics to take it from the body of Star Captain Marilen after her defeat. If anyone was tracking their movements and actions, it would be a powerful clue . . .

  34

  Temporary Field Headquarters,

  South of New Scotland

  Wayside V (Wildcat)

  Deep Periphery

  17 July 3058

  Galaxy Commander Devon Osis stepped into the command dome as Star Colonel Patricia studied the tactical display. She had set up the dome as a temporary command post until she was sure the isthmus was secure. They had traveled through the pass where Star Colonel Roberta had fought and perished in battle. The scientists and technicians had been dispatched to recover the battlefield debris, verify the dead, and gather the codices and BattleROMs of warriors who had fallen. Devon Osis had personally taken his OmniMech into the battlefield as the Cluster moved into the area.

  "Report," he barked, pulling his uniform taut on his chest.

  "The isthmus is secured. We located the DropShip that was used to initially secure this area. I have sent a Star of Elementals to the vessel to inspect and strip it of anything of value," Patricia said coolly.

  "Why was I not informed you had found the ship?"

  "It did not seem a matter that required your attention, Galaxy Commander. It is merely an abandoned DropShip, far too damaged to fly. Is there a problem?"

  "Possibly. Are your forces in the ship now?" he asked, his tone urgent.

  "Aff, they have just started their sweeps."

  "Get them out of there now, Star Colonel!" he barked.

  "I do not understand sir," she said.

  "Now, Star Colonel, before it is too late," Osis ordered, taking a step toward the comm system to send the order.

  "Aff, Galaxy Commander," she replied, activating her microphone. "Lambda Star, this is Mist Pouncer Command. Pull out immediately. Repeat, withdraw immediately."

  "Aff, Star Colonel," came a voice over the command link. Patricia turned to face Devon Osis and her brow wrinkled. "Galaxy Commander, is there something I am unaware of?"

  "Aff," Osis said firmly, though much more relaxed. "I have fought Inner Sphere warriors before. If they are anything, they are barbaric. They make use of booby traps and other devious means to achieve even minor victories. That DropShip is surely a trap."

  There was a distant rumble that reverberated through the portable dome as Devon Osis finished speaking. He showed no surprise, but waited as Patricia scanned the command channels for further information. In frustration, she initiated contact with Lambda Star.

  "Status report," she commanded.

  "Star Captain Javin reporting," came the voice of the Elemental nearly two kilometers away. "There was an explosion in the lower decks."

  "Losses," she said tersely.

  "Two Points were inside the ship when it exploded, Star Colonel. Another Point was just clearing the vessel and is partially damaged."

  Devon Osis watched Patricia carefully. Where Roberta had thrown things in anger and frustration, this one showed admirable control. "You lost good warriors, but it could have been worse."

  "These Fusiliers," she said through gritted teeth, "they fight with little honor. Such traps are the style of bandit-caste slime, not true warriors."

  "You underestimate them, Star Colonel," Devon Osis said calmly. "That was Star Colonel Roberta's mistake, and it cost her her life. Remember, these so-called bandits have managed to hold out against us for some days now. The honor of the Smoke Jaguar demands that we right this wrong—in battle, with the spilling of our enemy's blood."

  "How, Galaxy Commander? These freebirths flee before us."

  Devon Osis smiled thinly, then gave a low chuckle. "Battles can be won in the bidding, in the heart, or on the field of honor, Star Colonel. If I do not seem angered, do not mistake my intentions. These Fusiliers also blemished my own honor when they defeated Star Colonel Roberta. They have insulted me by even daring such a strike at my aerodrome." His face darkened as if a tempest were passing across his thoughts. "I will soak the clay of this forsaken planet with their blood, mark my words."

  "I still do not understand, Galaxy Commander," Patricia said.

  Devon Osis gave her a slightly twisted sm
ile. "That is why I am a Galaxy Commander and you are a Star Colonel," he told her.

  * * *

  As the harassing flight of the strafing Clan Bashkir fighters broke off their run and swung away, Colonel Andrea Stirling watched with sinking heart from the cockpit of her Grand Titan. Things were going very wrong for her and what was left of her command. The only comfort was that intel was reporting that a fast-moving storm front was moving in. The rain would hinder the movement of her own people, but it would also prevent the Smoke Jaguars from any more such strafing runs.

  "Colonel, incoming message for you," came the voice in her neurohelmet's earset speakers. The regimental communications officer was hesitant, and she took note of it. Perhaps Fuller was finally responding. Or worse, this might be news that he 'd been captured.

  "Who is it?"

  "Sir, it is Galaxy Commander Devon Osis. He has asked to speak with you personally."

  "Personally?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Patch me in. Send a view-only signal of the conversation to Majors Blakadar and Craig." Stirling angled her Grand Titan to the side and came to a complete stop. In the few seconds it took to establish the communications links, her heart began to pound. Whatever she said to this Clansman could be a life and death matter. She and her people were on the run for their lives, trapped on a planet far beyond human space and facing the worst nightmare ever to hit the Inner Sphere. Jaffray and Mulvaney were still her only hope, but until they got here she had to remember that her number one job was to buy time. Otherwise they might make it back to Wayside, only to find her and the rest of the Kilsyth Guards beyond any hope of rescue.

  "Image locked and on-line, sir."

  "Engage," she said firmly.

  The secondary display flickered once and then she saw the images of a man and a shorter female in gray field uniforms, standing in what appeared to be a tent or command dome. They both looked pristine, fresh, as though posing for a recruiting poster rather than in the midst of a small war.