He showed none of that, however, as he stepped forward smartly. "Star Captain Trent, Delta Galaxy, Third Jaguar Cavaliers," he barked with precise tones. "I hereby turn over command of the warriors of the DropShip Dhava."
Galaxy Commander Benjamin Howell stepped forward, smiling broadly at the sight of Trent.
"I, Galaxy Commander Benjamin Howell of the Zeta Galaxy, accept these warriors into my command. Word of your engagement on Pivot was transmitted to us several days ago while you were on approach. Any warriors who have distinguished themselves in the service of our Clan are welcome in Zeta Galaxy in the defense of Huntress." Howell motioned to one of the other officers, who took Trent's place at the head of the group and began to lead the group away.
"It does me good to see you again, Trent of the Howell bloodline," Benjamin Howell said.
Trent said nothing. He held his jagged lips stern and narrowed his eyes as he restrained his anger. This was the man who had cheated him of his right to vie for a bloodname—all in the name of ambition and petty politics. This was the man who, in essence, had awarded the bloodname to Jez instead—the bloodname Trent had believed was meant for him. Because of things Benjamin Howell had done, or failed to do, Trent had come to question all that the Smoke Jaguars represented.
"You are bitter and angry," Howell said. "This I understand. Let us meet in my office and talk. We were once friends, Trent. There is no reason we cannot be so once again."
"Is that an order, Galaxy Commander?" Trent asked coldly.
Benjamin Howell smiled thinly. "If that is what it takes, aye, it is."
Howell turned and walked away, and Trent realized that he did not like Huntress. No, he did not like Huntress at all.
26
Hall of the Hunter, Zeta Galaxy Command
Huntress
Kerensky Cluster, Clan Space
19 February 3056
Trent's ride to the base of Mount Szabo was accompanied by a mist-like rain that only seemed to add to his feeling of gloom. The hovercar moved silently down the wide avenues, driven by an infantry trooper who was, no doubt, an older solahma warrior. The man did not try to speak with Trent, and Trent was grateful.
He was impressed with the relative splendor of the Warrior Quarter of Lootera. The main boulevard was wide and lined with inscribed gray stone pillars on either side. At the end of the avenue was a circular fountain with a statue of General Alexsandr Kerensky, the great man who had led the Exodus several centuries earlier.
Beyond the fountain was a pyramidal structure standing almost at the foot of Mount Szabo. It was surrounded by a wide stone parade field. Around its perimeter were statues of BattleMechs facing outward. At the base of each an inscription was carved. Kent could not read them from here, but guessed that the inscriptions commemorated certain warriors and a great deed he or she had accomplished as a defender of the Clan and its sacred gene pool. The stone 'Mechs stood for all time, eternally guarding the future of the Clan.
Trent's hovercar sped past the statues and rounded the perimeter to reach the base of the mountain. He knew the function of the structure before he saw the eternal laser flashing upward into the sky from the base of the pyramid. The genetic repository. He reached down to the satchel at his side and patted its side. Inside the satchel was Jez's giftake.
The car stopped, and Trent got out, then looked up again at the image of the Smoke Jaguar towering over him. He had come to the Hall of the Hunter. The planetary command post of the Smoke Jaguars, buried deep in the heart of Mount Szabo. He stopped at the small security post, where his codex was scanned and verified. The guard also checked his retina with a hand scanner. Then the warrior who had driven Trent here motioned for him to follow.
It took nearly twenty minutes and a long elevator ride to reach the office of Galaxy Commander Benjamin Howell. Trent was escorted to the door and then left standing there alone. For a moment he stared at the door and considered simply walking away. But then he changed his mind. At one time he and Howell had been friends, the best of friends. Perhaps a fragment of that friendship still remained, a fragment worth salvaging. Perhaps even something Trent could use to arrange a trip back to the Inner Sphere ... He knocked three times and heard a muffled "Enter." Which he did.
Unlike the office of Star Colonel Moon on Hyner, the office of Galaxy Commander Benjamin Howell was much larger. Though lacking a window, its atmosphere was not so forbidding, perhaps because the illumination from the desk lamps was softer than the ceiling lights common throughout the rest of the complex. Sitting behind the black stone desk was Benjamin Howell. He motioned for Trent to sit. Slowly, without a word, Trent complied.
"It has been a long time, Trent."
"Perhaps not long enough," Trent replied.
"Drink?" Howell asked, pulling a bottle from a lower drawer. "It was isorla from our conquests in the Inner Sphere. I have kept it all this time in hopes of enjoying it one day with a friend."
Trent glared, a flicker of red light from the circuitry coming to life around his artificially enhanced eye. "I still do not drink, Galaxy Commander. And I am no longer sure we are still friends."
Benjamin Howell took out a glass and poured himself a drink. "I read the battle reports of your encounter with the Explorer Corps on Pivot Prime. Interesting engagement. As always, I admired your tactical acumen. Hitting the compound and forcing them to commit on one flank, then dropping the Elementals on top of them ... very impressive touch."
"One works with what one has at his disposal," Trent said, leaning back against his chair.
"An impressive victory nonetheless. You always prove that my faith in you was well placed, Trent. And you were working at an extreme disadvantage in my 'Mechs."
" 'Your' BattleMechs? According to the manifests they are intended for the scientists here, for research purposes."
"Paper and digital records," Benjamin said, then took a sip of his drink. "You must know the truth, Trent. This command, defending Huntress, is where they send warriors like me. I am old, over the hill. We have two Galaxies on planet, The Iron Guard and The Watchmen. I tested into this position shortly after my arrival here. As the elder officer, I am technically in charge of both. But they are more men than machines. All new equipment is shipped out with reinforcements—headed for the occupation zone and intended for the day when the invasion of the Inner Sphere begins anew. We get nothing here."
Trent began to understand. "So you have made an arrangement with the scientist caste. They request the BattleMechs for research purposes, then you get them for your own use."
Howell nodded. "Very good Trent, you always had a good grasp of tactics. It is pleasing to see that strategy is also part of your skills."
"Why?"
Benjamin smiled and took another sip of his drink. "The solahma and sibko forces under my command do not have the weapons needed for defense. What I do, I do for the protection of the Jaguar homeworld and our Clan. By borrowing these 'Mechs, I am able to enhance the old SLDF equipment assigned to us. The scientists have also given me a number of prototypes that would normally have been scrapped. My work over the last year and a half has turned these two Galaxies of rifle carriers into a sizable 'Mech-equipped force."
Again, Trent suddenly understood. Huntress was not a heavily armed fortress. Instead it was defended by solahma units and cadets training in their sibkos. By Benjamin Howell's logic, he was acting in the best interests of the Clan.
"You have been refitting your forces covertly. Why not simply go to the Khans and ask them for what you need?"
Benjamin Howell chuckled. "You were always innocent in the ways of politics. Khan Lincoln Osis sent me here in exile. He asked me to nominate Jez in your place for the bloodname—a diehard Crusader in the house of Howell. Then, like the consummate politician, immediately ordered me here to assume command. A command on paper only. No other Clan has waged a Trial on Huntress for over a decade. The only other Clan here is a small base of Jade Falcons in the mountains, and they keep to th
emselves."
Jade Falcons, on Huntress? Neg! "Why are the Falcons here?" Trent asked.
"It was a gift from ilKhan Leo Showers prior to the start of the Crusade. They have a small base in the mountains called Falcon's Eyrie. I simply call it desolate. While it may rain almost every day here, up there they do not know what the sun in the sky looks like."
"Why not simply challenge them to a Trial and drive them off?"
"Huntress is a large planet, and they keep to themselves. We only see them from time to time. To pursue them would be a waste."
This time it was Trent who chuckled. "Listen to you, Galaxy Commander. There was a time when the mention of the Jade Falcons or any other Clan would have boiled your blood into a battle rage. Now you seem almost complacent."
"Neg," Benjamin parried. "I merely have a broader view than when we were invading the Inner Sphere together. I understand that on the battlefield of politics I am no match for those who lead us. I also know that my main duty is to defend Huntress."
"Defend it from what?"
Howell's eyes narrowed. "At some point the Inner Sphere commanders will learn our location. It may take them at least another ten years, but it is inevitable. When they do, I will be here, waiting for them. And in my command will be fresh warriors and seasoned veterans, trained warriors willing to do my bidding for one last chance to die gloriously in battle. All I have to do is stay alive, and eventually the war will come to me. That is why my actions are so necessary."
Trent looked down at the satchel at his feet. "If you have read the records, you know why I am here."
"You have come to intern Jez Howell. And knowing how well you got along with her, I am sure you want to get the task over as quickly as possible. I must admit, I was a little surprised that you, of all people, were named as her honor guardian."
"Aff," Trent said in a relaxed tone. "My Cluster Commander hates me. He considers me a failure, just as everyone who fought on Tukayyid is a failure in his eyes. He sent me here so that I could ultimately be reassigned—to you. Then he will not have to deal with me. Sending me to Huntress as honor guard was a way to get rid of me, while also handing me a final insult. I have been tasked with guarding the genetic legacy of my greatest foe. And, then, he never has to deal with me again."
"I did read the reports. Your Star Colonel Paul Moon is well known to me. I once thought I could master the seas of Jaguar politics but I ended up here. One day, he too will take my place perhaps, quiaff?"
"Aff," Trent said softly, but secretly he was hoping that Paul Moon would meet his fate at Trent's own hands, in battle. "I must go," he said, picking up the satchel and holding it tightly in his grip. "There is an obligation that I must attend to, as you have pointed out."
"Indeed, Trent," Benjamin Howell also rose to his feet. "Your tone has changed since you first came in. Have you decided—are we still friends, you and I?"
"Aye."
"Excellent," Howell said. "Then we shall dine together like in the old days. And perhaps a game of chess as well."
Trent nodded, but his mind was on the duty he had still to perform.
* * *
The interior of the genetic repository was a massive chamber carved from stone. Its marbled floors, black, gray, and white, were tiled with the shapes of running Jaguars. The walls, dark and forbidding, all bore dozens of seals. Each showed a name and a digital code, each was the holding place of a giftake. Copies of all genetic samples were also maintained on Strana Mechty, but these were the originals, the very stuff that shaped the warrior caste of Clan Smoke Jaguar.
In the dim lights a white-robed scientist, flanked on either side by Elemental warriors dressed in dark gray, stood in the center of the room. The incense burners on the walls wafted pungent smoke into the air, heightening the solemnity of the moment.
Trent stepped forward and stopped ten meters from the scientist. The man was older than anyone Trent had ever seen, and he wore thick eyeglasses and spoke in a rough voice. "I am the Keeper of the Jaguar kin, the blood of our warriors. Who disturbs this most sacred of places?"
The voice echoed deeply from every angle in the chamber, seeming to shake Trent to his bones. He was sure the vault had been intentionally designed this way, to instill awe and fear in those who came here.
Trent drew a long breath. "I, Trent, of Bloodhouse Howell, stand as honor guard for one who has served with honor." He had rehearsed the lines during the trip in and spoke it in his deepest ceremonial voice.
"Has a blooded warrior passed to nothingness?"
"Neg. A warrior has died, but she lives on." Trent held up the silver container holding Jez's giftake. "I bring you Star Captain Jez Howell of the Delta Galaxy. She died with honor." It was a lie, but it rolled off his tongue as easily as truth.
One of the Elementals took the container and handed it to the scientist, who held a small scanner to the codex embedded in the lid of the cylinder. A flashing green light on the scanner told Trent that all was in order. "I stand here before all assembled to say that a new generation of warriors will carry Jez Howell in their blood. Her substance will live on after we are all gone."
"Seyla," Trent and the Elemental said in low, solemn tones.
"Honor guard, you have fulfilled your duty. Know that this warrior has come home. You have braved the darkness of the stars to intern her, as our ways demand. You serve the Jaguar with honor," the old scientist said, bowing his head.
Trent bowed his in return. He no longer served the Jaguars, but only what Nicholas Kerensky had intended them and the other Clans to be. All that remained now was the journey back to the Inner Sphere, where Trent would seek the chance to fulfill his own honor.
27
Technician's Quarter
Lootera, Huntress
Kerensky Cluster, Clan Space
19 February 3056
Trent pulled the collar of his raincoat up around his neck as he entered the doorway of building where Judith was staying. The Technician's Quarter of Lootera was far less grand than the Warrior's Quarter. Lacking were the parade fields, the massive granite and marble structures. Here the streets were narrow, the buildings older, yet very well kept. The Tech Quarter had a darker, closer feel to it. More human and inviting than the impersonality of the Warrior Quarter, and oddly quiet.
He had received Judith's message telling him where she had finally managed to billet for the evening. He was more than willing to meet in the Technician's Quarter rather than under the gaze of his fellow warriors. She was waiting for him in the small entrance hall, and then led him up the stairs to her room.
Trent was surprised to see that the Spartan conditions of his quarters were not much better than what his bondsman enjoyed. She closed and secured the door and sat on the edge of the bed as Trent hung his wet coat on a wall hook, then took the lone chair.
"I take it your efforts thus far have been successful, Judith?"
"Aye, Star Captain," she said, producing several optical diskettes from out of her jacket pocket. "There is little military data available on Huntress, but I was able to get maps of the city and some topographical details of the planet." Judith had been scouring the databases for information on the Jaguar homeworld via the terminal in her quarter. Though the data available was limited, it had apparently been enough to keep her up all night making copies of files and appropriate notes.
"Huntress has only a handful of settlements, and these are relatively close. Pahn City and New Andery are agricultural centers and the site of chemical facilities that apparently exploit the jungles for everything of value. Myer and Bagera are mining and processing centers." Like everything in Clan society, things were built with a purpose. "Given enough time, we should be able to get an accurate picture of this world from a military standpoint."
"What are your impressions of the place now that we are finally here, Judith?"
Judith paused, caught off guard by the question. She thought for a moment, then said, "To speak plainly, I am disappointed," she said
. "I expected much more. This is the homeworld of the Jaguars, yet from what I have been able to ascertain, it is defended by only two Galaxies. Mount Szabo is a powerful fortress, that I grant you, but a static defense position is a throwback to the ways of the past. And defending the home-world are warriors the rest of the Clan considers washed-up and past their prime. It seems illogical."
Trent shook his head. "Not really. The focus has been on the invasion of the Inner Sphere. Besides, there is no threat to the homeworlds. The Inner Sphere does not know the path of the Exodus Road." Yet. . .
Trent gave Judith a questioning look, which she read immediately.
"No bugs," she said, and Trent was relieved. He was confident of Judith's ability to detect any surveillance devices. Besides, a tech's quarters on the homeworld were not likely to be monitored.
"And the people you have encountered?"
"Content. Yet everything seems subdued compared even to Hyner. It is as if everyone were pre-programmed and is simply going through the motions. I have never been in such a place where I should feel comfortable and do not."
"It is only one day, Judith."
"Aff," she said. "But I do not wish to stay here long for fear of boredom."
"Hopefully we will not be here long."
"Did you meet with your former Commanding Officer?" she asked.
"Aye," Trent said. "Benjamin Howell is now a Galaxy Commander and in charge of the defense of Huntress."
"Impressive." Judith studied his face as though trying to read his thoughts. "Any ideas yet on how we can get reassigned to the Inner Sphere?"
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