Exodus road

by Blaine Lee Pardoe

  Trent was surprised when Jez bothered to include him in the bid, but then realized it would also work in her favor if he turned out to be wrong. It was not something he admired in her style of leadership, but he was coming to understand it all too well. It was not the way of the Clan as he understood it, but perhaps the ways were changing and he was being left behind.

  The twilight sky suddenly had four more stars in it, fast-moving comets or meteors that were zooming down toward the swamp from the west. DropShips. They came at night, knowing that the hot burn from their fusion engines would be visible in local towns and villages. Word would spread that the Combine had come back to Hyner, if only for a short time. Trent understood and was pleased to see the ships arc toward his own position. His hand drifted down to the fusion reactor throttle on his Timber Wolf. Not yet. The plan was to let the ships discharge their cargo first, then the Jaguars would attack.

  The bright lights of the ships came directly overhead, and Trent saw numerous smaller lights flicker around the edges of the ship. BattleMechs. Using jump packs, the mercenary 'Mechs were dropping from their DropShip and landing in the swamp less than a kilometer from Trent's current position. As one of the DropShips passed directly overhead, arcing on a course to take it away from the swamp, Trent licked his uneven lip inside his neurohelmet. So much the better. Escape will not be quick or easy for our prey at this point.

  Jez's voice came over the speakers. "You did well in your assessment of their landing target. If the battle goes as we expect, I may yet mention it to the Star Colonel. For now, it is time for you to prove yourself worthy of the Jaguar. Attack."

  Trent sent the signal to his Star to power up and commence attack. With cold precision he moved the throttle on his Timber Wolf up, feeling a throb of energy surge through the OmniMech from the fusion reactor under his cockpit. The lights from his heat sinks flickered on a second after the engine peaked, casting odd colors in the semi-dark cockpit. Trent felt as if the 'Mech was an extension of his own body.

  Reaching for the joystick weapons controls, he began to move out. On either side of him, the rest of his Star stirred to life as 'Veil.

  16

  Abandoned Methane Plant

  Swamplands

  West of Warrenton, Hyner

  Smoke Jaguar Occupation Zone

  5 April 3055

  A rattle of impacts from shrapnel lanced into Trent's Timber Wolf as he bore down on what was left of the mercenary Orion knee-deep in the black waters of the swamp. The 'Mech had lost almost all its armor, and flames lapped up its torso, sending smoke into the twilight sky. Trent's lasers dug into the area from which flames emerged, mauling the internal structure of the Orion even more.

  The Orion pilot tried to move backward, hoping to evade the Timber Wolf standing on the bank near it, but the move cost it what balance it had left. It fell forward into the black waters, sending a cloud of hissing steam into the evening air. As the swamp closed over the 'Mech, there was a deep rumble under the water, followed by a massive bubble of air escaping.

  Trent pivoted the torso of the Timber Wolf and checked the short-range sensors of his secondary display. The sensors told him the grim truth. The battalion of mercenary forces had been surrounded immediately, but had put up a grim fight to break free. Before him was a pond, surrounded by dense forest growth, and beyond that was what was left of his command. Lior had been downed by the Orion Trent had just killed, and Laurel had ejected since the last time he had checked his display. He got no indication of what had become of Styx, but Trent assumed that the younger warrior had either met his fate or was in the process of doing so. The signals from the other two Binaries involved in the fight were intermittent at best, but the battle was not going as the Jaguars had expected.

  Ansel's Mad Dog was at the edge of Trent's sensors limit, and from the signals he was receiving, Ansel's Omni was nearly dead. Trent wanted to signal Ansel to withdraw, but he knew the other warrior would not. It was not in his nature. The odds were stubbornly even, and even though the enemy were mercenaries, they had showed themselves well in battle.

  Just then Trent saw a dark maroon Guillotine emerge from the other side of the bog. He dropped his targeting reticule on it as it opened up with its medium lasers. One of the mediums missed, stabbing into the bog and making it boil. The other three dragged across the chest armor of Trent's Timber Wolf. He held steady and let go with both his long-range missile racks as the Guillotine returned fire with its own short-range missiles.

  The two waves of missiles passed mid-flight, and both sets found their marks. The Timber Wolf buckled under the barrage, its legs shedding armor plating as the warhead went off. Trent did not watch his own missiles impact, but advanced forward to make himself a harder target. Pivoting at the torso he saw the Guillotine come into sight on its jump jets.

  His own damage display showed several breaches in his armor, the damage shimmering a deadly red. Almost all the rest of his frontal armor was outlined in yellow, showing varying degrees of moderate damage. He watched the Guillotine rise into the air and arc toward his 'Mech on brilliant jet flames. If this mercenary thought he was going to get control of the battle, he was far wrong.

  Trent swung his Timber Wolf into a thick cluster of heavy-hanging trees, making it almost impossible for the Guillotine to land at point-blank range. He saw the outline of the maroon 'Mech drop just inside the treeline, on the edge of the bog where Trent had been standing. Its large laser and short-range missiles again flared at Trent, but this time the trees gave enough cover to prevent the missiles from striking. The steady bright red beam of laser light, on the other hand, sliced into his right weapons pod like a sword.

  Armor sprayed off and green coolant dripped down his side, and for the first time since the start of die fight, a ripple of heat rose in his cockpit, stinging Trent's lungs as he breathed.

  He swung to bring his lasers to bear as another 'Mech moved between him and the mercenary. He recognized the image instantly as a Warhawk, this one missing a weapons pod and almost all of its armor. Like a human with its skin removed, all that was left of the 'Mech were muscle-like myomer fibers and what had been armor and sensors. Jez. Here, alive, now.

  "Star Captain, that target is mine," he said firmly as he tried to move around her.

  "Surat bait," she replied over a wave of static that told him how badly she had been damaged. The Guillotine pilot did not care about Clan honor or tradition. He saw the Warhawk and opened fire with a deadly barrage of medium lasers.

  Jez's Warhawk vibrated as if it were suffering a seizure or stroke. Flames and brilliant flashes filled the twilight as Trent moved around to get a shot. Coming up next to her, he opened up with everything he had. The crimson beams and pulses of laser light hit the Guillotine like a wall of red death. The right torso of the mercenary 'Mech erupted with a brilliant yellow and orange flash as its short-range missile ammo exploded. Despite the cellular ammunition storage equipment, which was intended to mitigate the effect of internal explosion, the blast still wreaked havoc on the internal organs of the mercenary machine.

  The Guillotine careened and staggered forward a clumsy step as Trent also took a step forward, putting him closer to the Guillotine than Jez's machine. His foe rose just enough to let go with a salvo of medium laserfire that tore into his cockpit. Trent had not anticipated the move, and he reeled under the assault as several of his cockpit control systems shorted out, filling the air with the smell of ozone and a faint hint of smoke. Smoke in the cockpit stirred memories of the battle on Tukayyid, where Jez had also been nearby. He pushed away the memories of that nearly fatal battle, pushed them deep into his mind. This was not the moment for memories, but for prowess.

  Jez attempted to lift one remaining weapon, a PPC, but the Guillotine pilot risked the heat in his or her machine by firing his large laser at her. A flickering of flames lapped up the side and chest of the Warhawk, then around the cockpit, baking the paint a sickening burned black. The sudden impact forced
Jez's shots low, her PPC stabbing into the back mire of the swamp, sending dancing arcs of blue energy over the water and billows of steam into the evening sky.

  Trent only noted the attack, concentrating on his own. Switching his large lasers to the same target interlock, he triggered them with one forefinger, aiming squarely at the cockpit of the enemy 'Mech. The armor remaining there exploded off as the Guillotine staggered back several steps. There was a flash of minor explosion as the cockpit viewport blew outward. The mercenary 'Mech shut down instantly, then toppled lifelessly forward into the deep waters of the swamp.

  Trent did not hesitate. He quickly opened a channel to Jez. "We must move to the south. That way we can cut off any survivors from their DropShips."

  "Neg," Jez said. "Their survivors, if there are any, are off my sensors. We will never be able to catch up in time to cut them off."

  Trent looked at his own short-range sensor sweeps and saw that they were alone. He switched to long-range sweeps, mostly to confirm what Jez had reported and saw no sign of anyone nearby, enemy or ally. "The others are out of communications or sensors range."

  There was a pause, followed by Jez chuckling cruelly. "Neg. They are dead, or near death." She paused, obviously thinking the situation through. "This is your doing, Trent. Your arrogance made us bid too low."

  Trent felt his muscles tense at her words. "I cannot believe what I am hearing, Jez. You blame me because you failed to bid enough force to defeat this foe, quiaff? Warriors do not make excuses."

  Again the laugh. "You are right, but Jaguar warriors also know that survival is not just battle, but the aftermath. That has always been your weakness. You have never understood the importance of politics. In the end, that has always been your undoing."

  "Political maneuvering is unworthy of warriors."

  "Again the fool, Trent. You do not see? You must accept the blame for the failure here. Just as you took the blame for the battle on Tukayyid. That is politics, Trent."

  "Do not speak to me of Tukayyid, Jez," Trent said. "I saved your life there. A mistake I will not make again." He glared at her OmniMech only a few meters away, his anger rising with each word she spoke.

  "Actually you have already failed," she returned. "You could have let me die just now, but did not. Make no mistake, Trent. I have arranged a proper explanation for the failures here. You."

  Trent's heart pounded in his ears as he remembered how Jez had falsified the truth about the debacle on Tukayyid. Now she was threatening to do the same thing again. "Negative. I am beyond your lies, Jez."

  "Are you so blind that you do not see the truth of your fate, quineg?" You are of the same age as me, yet you serve in a lesser command. We each have thirty-three years, almost beyond the peak for trueborns.

  "The difference is that I have a bloodname and a proper command," she continued. "That will give me the chance to continue to serve as a warrior, while you are headed for the trash heap."

  Trent bit his gnarled lower lip. "I would have had a bloodname, but was cheated out of it by spineless scum—and you know it."

  "Ah, yes, your bloodname. I have never told you how your good friend Benjamin Howell nominated me in your place, did I?"

  Her words caught him off guard. "You got my nomination!"

  "Aye, I did. Benjamin Howell had fallen from favor in the eyes of Khan Osis. To reward my actions on Tukayyid, I, a diehard Crusader of the Howell bloodline, was granted your slot. That must eat at you, Trent, quiaff?"

  He did not answer.

  Jez laughed. "You should have demanded a Trial of Grievance, Trent. But you are so pathetic. You cower like a freeborn and let events toss you about like the wind. How unfortunate that you also failed in the Grand Melee."

  "You were behind that too, weren't you, Jez? I could never prove it. Till now."

  "It is of no matter to me what you think, you and that bitch of a bondsman. I assume it was she who discovered evidence of my little surprise, quiaff?"'

  "She is not the issue at hand, Jez. You are."

  "You are wrong, Trent. I have the bloodname you thought would be yours. I have the command that should be yours.

  My reputation is one of superiority, while you are the mockery of the Clan. You made sure of that the moment you decided to challenge Star Colonel Moon over those pitiful freebirths of Chinn. From that moment on, every Jaguar officer could see that you do not possess the heart of the Smoke Jaguar."

  "Sending true warriors to slaughter innocents, even free-births, is wrong."

  Once more Jez laughed softly. "Do you really think that this was an isolated act by the Star Colonel or that Khan Osis was unaware of it? Our leaders knew what we did—they expected it of us. Even you cannot be that naive."

  Trent listened to her with a sinking heart. My entire Clan is against me. Every truth has been twisted to fit the schemes of Jez and Paul Moon. It was like a disease, a creeping illness eating away at the strength of the Clan. It went beyond honor, beyond Clan justice. What was at stake was not just the life of a single warrior, but a way of life, the fulfillment of what Nicholas Kerensky had envisioned for his people.

  He could not help but think of Judith, of her saying there was another way, that he had a choice. At the Castle Brian, she had talked to him about other possibilities, other means to achieve honor. He knew he must turn this moment into victory or he would perish.

  The decision was easy, so easy that Trent wondered if he had really decided weeks earlier and only needed this impetus to set it in motion. Pivoting his Timber Wolf to face what was left of Jez's Warhawk, he stared at her cockpit only a dozen meters away. "A Circle of Equals, quiaff?"

  "You and I are not equals," Jez scoffed, "and never will be. I am a bloodnamed warrior. I do not have to accept your puny calls for justice."

  "You are correct as always, Jez," Trent said as his targeting reticule swung in on the Warhawk cockpit across from him. Without hesitation he triggered every one of his lasers in a deadly salvo. The Warhawk's viewport seemed to buckle, followed a millisecond later by an implosion. The lasers riddled the interior of Jez's cockpit, and Trent knew there would be very little trace of Jez's body left to be recovered later. The Warhawk billowed smoke from the hole that had been the cockpit, then tipped forward as if bowing to Trent. Aff, Jez, we are not equals. I am alive and you are not.

  He stared at the Warhawk for, a long minute. Then he flipped his comm system to the channel used by the techs. "This is Star Captain Trent to Technical Command. Put me through to Tech Judith immediately."

  There was a long pause and then Judith came on line. "Star Captain, this is Judith."

  Trent drew a deep breath. The next step he took would set him on a path from which there would be no turning back. "I need you up here. Bring a portable electronics kit and replacement boards and chips."

  "I will get a team there immediately."

  "Neg. You will come alone." Trent let her know by his tone that the matter was a grave one. "There is much work to be done."

  BOOK THREE

  The Sword

  ... A magnificent beast, the Smoke Jaguar. It is ferocity unbound, tenacity without limit. Once it locks its powerful jaws around the throat of its prey, it never lets go.

  The greatest of warriors might be shamed by comparing himself to such fierce courage....

  —Nicholas Kerensky, Birth of a New Society

  The role of the warrior is to be more than the highest of castes. It is to protect the weak, defend the innocent, to be more than just a mere soldier as in ages past. No, a warrior is more than the genetics that have formed him or her. They are to be the embodiment of my vision, a new direction for our species.

  —Franklin Osis, Founder of the Smoke Jaguar Clan

  History will be kind to me for I intend to write it.

  —Winston Churchill

  17

  Smoke Jaguar Planetary Command Post

  Warrenton, Hyner

  Smoke Jaguar Occupation Zone

  7 April 30
55

  Judith slid the battle ROM into the small module and plugged it into the communications system built into the desk of Star Colonel Paul Moon. The towering figure of Moon loomed over her as she hit the control to activate the module, and the image began to flicker to life on the screen that rose up as the system engaged. Trent stood behind her, at attention, watching as well.

  What was displayed was the image of the Guillotine that Trent and Jez had been fighting. There was a flash as Jez's Warhawk fired its remaining weapons at it, and the enemy BattleMech returned fire. Then came Trent's shots, which hit true, destroying the Guillotine and sending it plunging into the brackish waters of the swamp.

  The image pivoted and showed the burned-out cockpit of the Warhawk, apparently destroyed by the last salvo that made it out of the Guillotine before Trent had downed it. Smoke billowed from the 'Mech, and Paul Moon used the remote control to pivot the image, as if he could inspect the damage done. Silently he shut off the screen, which retracted back into the table. He looked coldly over at Judith.

  "Star Captain Jez Howell's battle ROM was irretrievable, quiaff?"

  "Affirmative, Star Colonel," Judith replied. He stared into her eyes as if weighing her words, as if not trusting them. "And she was dead when you arrived, quiaff?"

  "Aff."

  Paul Moon paused a moment before speaking again. "Very well, Technician, you are dismissed." Judith reached down and extracted the battle ROM and module, casting only a glance in the direction of her bondsmaster. She then left the room, closing the door behind her.