Opalescent Reflections
Stacking the Deck
Chapter 8
Lootera, Huntress
Kerensky Cluster, Clan Homeworlds
19 August 3054
It had been a lovely clear day, and although some clouds had blown in near sunset, much of the sky was still clear now.
Tyra lay on the roof, one eye screwed shut and the other pressed against the end of a cylinder no longer than her arm. Satisfied that it was lined up correctly, she wriggled away, careful not to knock it. Taking a pair of calipers from her pocket, she measured the angle of the cylinder and made a note of the results.
Satisfied, she considered trying to pick out another star and decided against it. There was only so long that she could be absent on her errand before it would become suspicious, and she had four sets of data. Instead, she broke down the framework holding the cylinder, dropping each piece into her technician's kit. The cylinder broke open easily - too easily, really. She almost dropped one of the lens that made it into a crude telescope, only barely catching it.
Taking a deep breath of relief - she had signed for the lens and if it wasn't installed eventually she'd be called to account for it - Tyra forced herself to keep packing everything away carefully. Stripping the top page from her notepad she folded it to protect the precious numbers and slipped it into her boot where it would hopefully not wind up torn.
Once she'd finished packing everything away in the kit, Tyra crawled quietly across to the edge of the roof, looking down the full height of the 'mech hangar. Fortunately, the structure wasn't in use - normally home to as much as a quarter of the Jaguar touman, Huntress was currently well below those numbers. Even the formation of Tau Galaxy hadn't filled all the available facilities and this particular hangar remained surplus to current demands.
That didn't necessarily mean that no one would be using it. She'd learned already that the civilian castes were more than happy to use spaces rarely frequented by warriors to handle their own business. Thus, Tyra secured a line to the toolkit and lowered it carefully to the top landing of the external stairway. The weight of the line dragged on her gloved hands, but once the toolbox was down, she was able to dangle from the edge of the roof, toes just barely reaching the robust handle.
For a moment after Tyra let go of the roof, she feared that she'd topple backwards and off the stair entirely, the handle wasn't wide or intended to be a stable footing. Instead she stepped down onto the somewhat more reliable grated floor of the landing and took a deep breath. It would be deeply ironic if she fell to her death now.
Heart no longer racing, the blonde picked up the toolkit and carried it down the stairs one flight at a time, looking around at each landing to see if she had been noticed.
Travel time to what she had learned was called the Kerensky Cluster was lengthy even with occasional use of other Clan's jumpships and recharge stations along the way. Tyra reckoned they had averaged a jump every four days, which made Huntress roughly a thousand light years beyond the Inner Sphere. And from gossip, the Clans' capital world was just one jump away.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Tyra tried to forget that fact. To focus on the now.
She had to compartmentalize. Future possibilities, however enticing, might distract her from doing what she needed in order to survive in the now.
The small jeep she'd used for this errand wasn't really different from those used in the Inner Sphere. There were hundreds of them in use all around the city, by warriors and civilians alike. There was nothing even slightly suspicious about one being parked out by the currently unused waste bins - except that no one was, officially, using the hangar.
Hoping that anyone driving past had assumed that the jeep was simply that of civilians making discreet use, or of someone taking advantage of the inactive status to carry out maintenance, Tyra hopped in and turned the engine on.
No one seemed to be paying attention as she pulled out and wove through the streets, eventually blending into traffic around more occupied buildings. The work to keep the equipment of the touman went on day and night, particularly when hundreds of 'mechs and aerospace fighters needed to be maintained, repaired from training and trials, and then sent out for more of the same.
She pulled up at one end of the rank of almost identical vehicles, and looked around. Other than a couple of techs quietly smoking that weren't quite as well hidden as they thought, no one appeared to be waiting around for her.
That was good.
Tyra picked up the toolkit and went to the door. Inside, there was an entire work crew stood around not doing anything.
That was not good.
"What kept you?" demanded Krona.
Play it cool, Tyra. "The zeerga at requisitions were playing dumb about the paperwork," she answered. It had the virtue of being true, if not to nearly the extent she implied. Zeerga were apparently native to Strana Mechty, the clan's capital world - predominantly the regions that overlapped with the enclave of one of the Smoke Jaguar's rival Clans. Here on Huntress it was just an insult.
"You kept us working late," the master tech accused, throwing a kick at a bucket full of water. "Again!"
"If you think someone else can do this faster… well, you are probably right," Tyra admitted. "But in that case why not send them?"
"Because you cannot do your work in any useful time anyway!"
That was harsh, if not entirely unfair.
Krona jerked her jaw to one side. "I had plans tonight. They are now off. Because you got lost, you stupid spheroid! You think I do not know anyone in requisitions. Teach her not to joyride, boys."
Oh hell…!
Two of the other techs tried to catch Tyra by the arms, a slight tactical error when she was holding a heavy tool kit. Tyra whirled to her right, heaving the kit up to slam into the man on that side under the ribs. He folded up with pained grunt.
That left someone behind her and Tyra felt him snake his arms up under hers in an attempt at a full-nelson. She slammed her head back and felt something crunch, not that it left her head any less ringing from the impact. The arms fell away.
The last of Krona's lackeys took a swing at Tyra from the left - she saw a glint of a metal in his hand and threw up a block that took the blow up and over her shoulder. Not a knife, she realized in relief, some sort of a knuckleduster. Her knee went as the off balance tech came close to her and he shrieked right into her face as her kneecap came together with the soft tissue of his crotch.
Tyra stepped back, looking to see if anyone was getting up to take this further.
Krona didn't seem done, and nor did the man with blood pouring from his broken nose. The toolkit landed sideways on the floor as the man she'd hit with it pushed it off him and struggled to get up onto his feet.
The door behind Tyra swung open. "What is going on here?" a young voice demanded.
"Star Commander!" Krona called, sounding relieved, "This tech attacked us!"
"Bullshit!" snapped Tyra, turning around to look at the new arrival.
Star Commander Arnold looked at her with a somewhat feral interest. "Trent's pet? Again?" He looked barely old enough to shave, and drunk on the power of his rank.
"They attacked me!" she protested.
"You clobbered me with that toolkit!" the man still climbing off the floor protested hastily.
"In self-defense! And he has brass knuckles on him!" Tyra accused, pointing at the man clutching his groin with one hand.
Except he hadn't now. Was this a set-up? She didn't think Arnold would play along with a tech's power plays, but he was inexperienced enough to be easily deceived by Krona. Or at least not to investigate her words too closely.
"I do not see any brass knuckles on him," the Star Commander observed sharply.
Had the man "Search and you'll find them!"
Arnold stepped closer and then slapped her across the face sharply. It took all Tyra's self-control not to lash out in reply, but attacking a warrior really would finish her off here. "You do not give me orders, troublemaker." He gestured towards the 'mech bay housing his Arctic Cheetah. "Do you think I have forgotten that my 'mech's armor was not fully replaced before last week's exercise because you got into a fistfight with Tech Jerome."
Given that Jerome had decided to test the pressure on his hose before cleaning the Arctic Cheetah by spraying her with it - something that had knocked Tyra off her feet - and justified it as 'cleaning some off the Inner Sphere filth off of her. The scumbag had got what was coming to her - Tyra's father had told her that ignoring bullies got you much less safety than making them understand that their actions had consequences.
Of course, some bullies didn't have to worry about consequences.
"I have had enough of this," Arnold told her with what he probably thought was calm menace. "You have made problems twice. There will not be third one."
"Sure, whatever you say," Tyra agreed, feeling blood trickle from her split lip.
"Neg," he shook his head. "Your promise means nothing to me, spheroid. You are being reassigned. Somewhere you can do no further damage."
"I think not."
Tyra looked up in relief to see Star Captain Trent walking into the hangar. Twice now he'd stepped in when she needed help urgently. If it happened again she might assume some degree of conspiracy. But right now, she was just relieved to see him.
"Star Captain. Your tech is causing problems again."
"Is she?" Trent was kept walking forwards, almost mechanically precise in his movements. He had adopted that mannerism on the voyage, perhaps because it intimidated the hell out of the less experienced warriors. Some of the younger, more gullible of the warriors here on Huntress thought that he was dead already, reanimated by science because he just refused to stop fighting. "She is my tech, quiaff?"
"...aff."
"You are my superior suddenly, quineg?"
Arnold studied the floor until Trent jabbed his mechanical hand up against the boy's throat. "Neg! Neg!"
"Ah…" Trent nodded crisply, "Perhaps your education skipped past this detail of the martial code. Technicians assigned to a warrior are subject to that warrior, and accountable to their caste superiors and also to that warrior. That may go up the chain of command, but never down. Do you understand?"
"Aff!"
"Good." The Star Captain lowered his hand slowly. "So. For what reason do you wish to send my technician away, Star Commander?"
Arnold indicated Krona and the three other techs. "She attacked them."
"You saw this?"
Tyra saw the young mechwarrior consider lying and then dismiss the notion. "Neg. I… they reported it."
"Ah. And the cameras?"
"Cameras?" Arnold and the technicians all looked started.
Tyra glanced at Trent. He hadn't told anyone?
"The Inner Sphere is rife with bandits who will attempt to sabotage or steal military equipment without an open challenge," Trent informed Arnold in a lecturing tone. "I distinctly recall mentioning that circumstance to the binary."
"Aff, but this is not the Inner Sphere."
Krona looked panicked suddenly, looking around.
"You are being trained to operate as you must within the Inner Sphere," the scarred warrior informed his subordinate. "The cameras placed within the hangar were a test, which you have failed. In this, you will have a second chance. Such carelessness in the Inner Sphere could leave our enemies in possession of your Battlemech, which is not to be permitted." He turned his gaze upon Krona, who cringed. "Do I need to review those recordings, Master Tech? Or do you have any corrections to your report?"
"I…" The woman hesitated and then blurted: "She was late! I was disciplining her and she attacked me!"
There was a choking sound from Trent, a laugh distorted by his rebuilt throat. "If Tyra had attacked you, Master Tech, you would show the marks. Unlike the rest of your crew." He indicated the bruised and bloodied technicians. "Even if I accept that explanation, you could be said to have submitted a false report to a warrior."
"No, I…" She looked around, settling on Arnold as a source of support. His snarl at her made it clear that he was already blaming her for his own arrogant assumptions.
"Misleading information can be more damaging than any outright falsehood," Trent intoned ominously. "I believe my tech is sufficiently chastised, you may go, Tyra."
Recovering the toolbox, Tyra strode quickly away as Trent gestured sharply for Arnold and the work crew to follow him out of the hangar. She would have to be more careful in the future - Krona did have connections, she had admitted it herself. And she would be smarting from whatever punishment was delivered - it was very unlikely she'd be dismissed outright.
There was no gantry lift to help her climb up the side of the 'mechs in the hangar. She had to climb stairs, dragging the toolbox with her. Adrenaline was wearing out, leaving her tired beyond what was normal at this hour. Fortunately, the Ebon Jaguar was low-slung and she didn't have to go as high as might otherwise be the case.
Opening an inspection panel, Tyra accessed the laser pod mounted in the left side of the torso. Normally, she had learned, technicians would remove the entire weapon for repairs to be done in a workshop. However, the high tempo of operations meant that the trucks moving weapons from hangars to workshops were all heavily booked, so minor repairs were having to be done in the hangars.
Securing the weapon assembly to the bay's internal cranes, the pilot undogged it from the 'mech and slowly drew it out. A ton of laser moved as easily as a well-oiled door under the cranes' gentle direction.
Tyra opened the toolkit and was relieved to find that the well padded containers for delicate components hadn't visibly damaged the lens she'd brought in. Extracting the originals, one of which was visibly cracked, she swapped them for the replacement parts before hooking up the diagnostic computer to begin dialing in the targeting systems for the new lens. It shouldn't be a problem with a fresh component, but there was always the chance that someone in requisitions would pass off a damaged part to her or that there had been undetected damage during the fracas.
Confident that none of the cameras she'd emplaced would spot her, the Iron Jarl's daughter retrieved her calculations from earlier and began delicately encoding them into the control programmes of the laser. Junk data that would be ignored by the targeting computer, but retrieved at a later date by anyone who knew where it was in the code.
Which was just her, right now. But if she got back to the Inner Sphere then she would have the raw data to work backwards to calculate Huntress' location from four different large and distinctive stars above the plane of the Milky Way. And if ComStar's astronomical data was up to it…
Then they would know how to find the Clans' homeworlds.
All she had to do was survive long enough to deliver it, and the Smoke Jaguars would pay for Reykjavik. They would pay for everything!
Yamashiro, New Samarkand
Diamond Shark Dominion
22 August 3054
Ace Enders sat on the foot of his Huntsman, parked outside what had until recently been the Coordinator's palace. There were hangars built into the structure but they hadn't yet been confirmed as safe, so the Ivory Skate were parked outside, with a security perimeter thrown up.
Yesterday half the warriors of Gamma and Epsilon Galaxy had been given liberty to celebrate the capture of New Samarkand. The report that the corpse of the Usurper, left behind by the Great Father, had been found was for some reason pushing the urge to party even further.
And, of course, someone had done something during that celebration that was now demanding his time on the day that he was supposed to be able to enjoy himself. The privileges of command.
"Galaxy Commander," Annika Enders offered with a salute that was parade ground precision. Not out of respect, Ace was almost certain, but simply because she didn't want to give him anything that he could use against her.
"Annika," he replied, returning the salute casually. "Take a seat. This is not a formal matter… unless you would prefer that it was?"
"I do not believe that I have anything to fear from a formal investigation," the other member of his Bloodhouse declared.
"Not yet," Ace told her. "Not yet. Although putting another member of Epsilon Galaxy in the hands of the medics in an informal Trial of Grievance could - from a certain point of view - be considered detrimental to our combat readiness."
"The trial of grievance is my right under the Martial Code," she countered.
Ace rested one elbow on his knee and then used that hand to support his chin. "The right to call for a trial of grievance is coupled with the responsibility to do so in a time and manner that does not undermine the Clan. I have heard from others who were present, but in your own words, what was the nature of your Grievance with Mechwarrior Paul?"
He got an upraised chin in challenge. "He was wearing samurai swords."
Ace nodded encouragingly, as if he expected more, but remained silent. After a moment, he used his other hand to wave for her to continue. He wasn't surprised by her statement, he knew there was nothing more to it than what she had already said, he just wanted to emphasize how petty he found her justification.
Annika scowled deeply. "That was enough. It disgusted me that he would behave like the follower of a Scavenger Lord and not a Clan warrior."
"That is your reason for knocking him unconscious, quiaff?"
"Aff!"
Ace nodded wearily. "You are older than I and had the privilege of going through the complete training of a Clan warrior. I assume therefore than Clan Burrock did familiarize you with the iconography of the other Clans, quiaff?"
Annika frowned, "Aff?"
"What type of sword appears on the Jade Falcon banner?" he asked innocently.
Her face fell. "A… katana."
"Aff," he agreed. "Are you going to attack every Jade Falcon you meet, because they have a katana embroidered on their uniform?"
"That is not the same thing!"
"Ah, of course." He sat up. "I believe Mechwarrior Paul claimed those weapons from the cockpit of a mechwarrior he defeated. Are other warriors who take trophies going to be attacked in future? It is not an uncommon practice, quiaff?"
"A trophy is not the same as wearing them as if he was a -"
Ace raised his hand for her to stop. "There is no regulation forbidding the Clan's warriors from carrying weapons, and carrying those claimed from those you defeat is an acceptable manner of boasting. At this time, we are fighting the Draconis Combine so such swords are quite common. Given that other Clans use the weapons, it cannot be considered an expression of sympathy. The fact that it piques you is quite trivial. This is not a matter that merits rendering another warrior unfit to fight. I am clear, quaiff?"
She folded her arms rebelliously. "Aff."
"If you must make such challenges, choose terms other than combat. But if you intend to police the preferred sidearms of every warrior you come across… you will be very busy," he warned and then shook his head. "Since yesterday was a celebration and we are unlikely to see battle before Paul recovers, I will let it slide this time. But just this time. If it happens again, this will become a disciplinary matter."
Annika snorted disdainfully, "If you wanted rid of me, why do you not challenge me? Are you afraid I would set terms that would put you at a disadvantage?"
She would be an idiot if she did not. "Because 'getting rid of you' is not my duty. You obviously have talent as a warrior, but you are also an officer. If you expect to rise past Star Commander I strongly suggest that you start to consider matters beyond the immediate."
"As you do?"
"The process is the same," Ace told her irritably, "Even if the conclusion may differ. If you were doing this to provoke me, you have failed. Should it recur, you will be transferred out of Epsilon Galaxy."
"I would demand a Trial of Refusal," she pointed out with a smug smile.
"While I could deny that," he pointed out, "Since it is an operational decision, not a voted issue of the Clan Council, I could also agree and impose conditions that made your Trial even more of an uphill struggle than the last time we fought." Ace rose to his feet. "So, you have been counseled on this matter, which is my obligation. If you continue to embrace idiocy, then all you will get is the very slight consolation that I am disappointed in you. Not afraid, not angry, just disappointed."
He saw her eyes bulge in outrage and Annika opened her mouth to retort, only to think better of it at the last moment. She turned sharply and walked away, boots crunching on the gravel of the garden path.
A moment later Val approached, looking amused. "Are you done with your duties now?"
Ace nodded and brushed himself down. "Unless someone has another emergency for me to deal with." He tapped his comm.
"So what was her reason for putting Paul in the medbay?" the other freeborn asked. "I have heard many rumors, but it is hard to tell what the truth is."
"She objected to his choice of sidearm?"
"...that hardly seems sufficient cause."
"I agree. For some reason," Ace added, "Carrying two swords in the fashion of a samurai has set her off."
Val scrunched up her face. "There are better ways to handle that."
He felt his eyes narrow. That wasn't quite a condemnation of Annika's position, only of how she handled it. Perhaps he was reading too much into it. "I wonder if she would have challenged me if I still had the daisho I carried before the absorption of the Burrocks."
"I am glad you do not," the woman said frankly. "I know that they are just trophies, for now, but that is not how everyone sees it. They are almost a symbol."
"How do you mean?"
Val linked her arm with his as they walked through the city - or at least the upper levels that were dotted with palaces and parks. "There have been many changes to the Clan since we came to the Inner Sphere. The Burrocks are at least fundamentally a Clan, we have a common background with them even if some of their customs are strange. But the people of the Inner Sphere… if we start taking up their customs, that strikes me as dangerous."
"Ah." Ace turned that over in his head. When had his life not been a whirlwind of change? "And the swords, you see as a symbol of that?"
"I know that they are just trophies," she clarified. "But it does bother me to see us doing things that are done here. Warriors choosing a sidearm is one thing, but when so many choose the same weapon I cannot help but feel that it has more significance."
"It does," he told her. "The swords are a symbol, after a fashion. Not for the people who carry them, but for the people we rule now. To them we are something strange and alien, but when we carry the swords that they are used to seeing their rulers carrying it gives them something to latch onto." He chuckled. "I did not plan on that when I kept those swords with me, but it has paid off."
But Val shook her head. "We should set them aside then, these people must adapt to the ways of the Clan. The more they treat us like their lords, the greater the temptation for us to act like them."
"We cannot do that." Ace cautioned. "The right to carry arms, in particular the two swords, is one of the main draws we have in recruiting warriors from the Inner Sphere. The touman is too small to garrison the worlds we have now and the campaign is not done yet…" His mind flickered to the upcoming Clan Council meeting. Among the topics to be discussed was Barbara Sennet's plan to sweep in and seize worlds from the Outworlds Alliance. "Turning around and denying those recruits the chance to carry the swords would be worse than not offering the chance in the first place."
"But they will not really be -" She broke off as Ace took his arm from hers. "What?"
"They will not really be what?" Ace asked her. "Not warriors? Not part of Clan Diamond Shark?"
Val paled. "Not like that, not like you. You chose us, Ace. I missed that at first, but no one doubts you. But them? It will not be until they have grown up under our laws that they understand us."
"I did not grow up under Clan law either," he reminded her. "Something closer, yes. The dark caste are not as far removed from the Clans as they like to think. But we cannot keep them out. We have come too far now. If we do not absorb them, as we did the Burrocks, we will be overstretched and this Dominion, as it has been named… it will be dead within ten years. We cannot keep going as we have."
"We cannot change and remain who we are!" she shot back, voice rising to the point heads began to turn in their direction.
Ace turned to face her. "Change is life, Val. The Clans are superbly adapted to the homeworlds, for a society that has severely limited resources and fundamentally local demands on those resources. For a society that has no outside pressures upon us. But now that we are in the Inner Sphere, that does not work. Five years ago, no enclave of the Clans was more than a jump from another Clan's territory - now there's no other Clan within how many jumps? Ten, twelve?"
Val shook her head. "Why are you saying this? I thought that you were happy to be a Diamond Shark!"
"I am - but perhaps my idea of the Clan differs from yours," he said hotly. "More shark than diamond, more a living thing than a carved block of crystal."
She took a step back, eyes wide. "You say we have to change," she demanded. "But what if we change to the point we are no longer a Clan?" And then she whirled and strode away, shoulders square, back stiff and upright.
Ace stared after her for a moment. He had no ready answer, but it occurred to him that both Val and Annika were mad at him for the same general reason: he was not their idea of what a Clan warrior should be. How ironic: a trueborn former-Burrock and a freeborn Diamond Shark coming to much the same conclusions.
"Perhaps there is something to what they say," he mused out loud and then shook his head and walked on, taking a different direction to Val. He did not want to cross her path again. There was to be food down in some of the plazas.
I got this far by killing people, he thought. That seems to please them - well, Val. And Barbara, Angus… even Steven Hawker seems to admire me for that, when he came pretty close to being one of those I killed! But there are problems that I can't solve by killing and I… I may not be good enough when it comes to other solutions. This is a bit more complicated than fixing an ammo feed.
New Hannover, Arc-Royal
Donegal Province, Federated Commonwealth
10 September 3054
Green-painted omnimechs swarmed forwards against 'mechs in black and red. A storm of fire from their weapons smashed against each side and Aidan Pryde cursed to himself as he exchanged fire against an enemy Summoner.
The other 'mechwarrior was skilled and if his weapons had not been replaced with older and less capable models, the PPC hit he landed might have penetrated the armor over Aidan's ammunition bins. Aidan's own PPC missed but the pulse laser in his other arm carved plating away from a line across the chest of the Kell Hounds 'mech.
Fortunately, there were very few Clan mechs being deployed against them, or things might be going poorly for the advance on New Hannover. The Kell Hounds outnumbered the Gyrfalcon Guards considerably, even if that edge had dropped sharply over three days of indecisive clashes. It must be salvage from Luthien, Aidan thought. Repaired with parts they could obtain.
He threw his own Summoner into a jump and fired each of his weapons in turn at his opponent as he arced up over the battlefield. The other 'mech zig-zagged, avoiding PPC and pulse laser with almost preternatural grace. The missile salvo could track to an extent and had more luck - roughly half the missiles struck home, blasting craters into the red and black paint and the armor beneath it.
The Kell Hound's own return missiles missed their lock entirely, as did his PPC, but Aidan's 'mech was clipped by a cloud of submunitions from the LB-X autocannon, sending him slightly off balance. As he landed, beams of light lashed out and scored through the armor of one arm. The damage warning lights alerted him that there had been minor penetrations of the limb, right as a recorded warning told him he was down to one final salvo of twenty LRMs.
They were close though. He could see the towering buildings of Arc-Royal MechWorks up ahead. The Watch reported that the workers there had almost finished loading up their tooling for evacuation by maglev. It deprived the Kell Hounds of their last major repair facility here… and the Jade Falcons of the chance to capture the factory in a state they could make use of.
"Joanna!" Aidan shouted as he traced the laser fire back to a Wolfhound that was already ducking behind the cover of the wooded hills flanking the highway. "Push through!" It was a calculated risk - most of the Guards would be low on ammunition and armor, but the same had to be true of their opponents.
"About time!" the older warrior shouted and her trinary lunged forwards on the right flank, catching a company of Kell Hounds off guard.
Aidan had ordered Joanna to have her warriors switch to energy weapons only after they dropped below half their onboard ammunition, saving it for a moment like this one.
With the pressure mostly on the center and their own right flank, the Kell Hounds had committed their reserves there. Now they paid a price for that as Joanna and her warriors unleashed every weapon they had on the forward ranks of the mercenaries' left.
Aidan was forced to commit his attention to the enemy Summoner as it lashed out at him again, PPC and autocannon catching him this time, but he saw a rush of the faster Kell Hounds trying to respond and reinforce the exposed flank. One of them was the Wolfhound from a moment ago and Aidan focused his fire on it for a moment, his PPC tearing apart the protection around the laser mounted in its right arm. A moment later his last LRMs hammered into the lighter 'mech and severed a joint - while, the Wolfhound still managed to get out of his range to join the fight against Joanna's trinary, it left the lower half of its right arm below.
"We are seeing additional hovertanks," Horse reported from the left flank. "They are trying to get around behind us."
Aidan charged closer to the Kell Hounds' Summoner, scoring no hits but forcing it to backpedal to keep him from getting inside the inner effective range of his LRMs. "Can you handle them?" There were explosions from the right as two of the Kell Hounds' mechs suffered ammunition explosions that tore them apart within heartbeats of each other.
"I peeled off Diana's Star to get rid of them, but that is giving the Hounds ideas!" his old friend told him, then grunted as Aidan heard the tell-tale sound of weapon impacts. At least Horse was in a Hellbringer now, something more powerful than the Viper he'd ridden previously.
"We are hammering their left flank, just hold on."
"They are hammering ours - ugh, got you!" Horse shouted suddenly. "Right, one less Hound to worry about. Tell Joanna to stop playing around!"
"I heard that, you freebirth stravag!" the other Star Captain shouted and Aidan saw another Kell Hound 'mech vanish, this time in the silvery fireball of a fusion reactor breach.
"You were meant to."
Aidan ignored the bickering of the pair and ducked to avoid another hit from the Kell Hound's PPC. At least Diana was less childish than the two older warriors. She had returned from the bloodright trials with a knife scar along one arm from the early rounds and no bloodname - shot out of her Nova during the semi-final round. Her spirit was unbroken though and Aidan had assigned her a new Black Lanner, which he hoped conveyed that he was not disappointed in her.
As if summoned by the thought of her, Diana spoke up. "Star Colonel, the hovertanks are not militia or Kell Hounds. They have Davion Guard markings."
Aidan threw his Summoner back, not quite avoiding a flurry of LRMs from his opponent. (If he captured this mechwarrior, he wanted him as a bondsman!) "Acknowledged." His mind raced - Marthe's Second Falcon Jaegers, the other half of the forces bid to secure this continent of Arc Royal, had been facing the Third Davion Guards around Old Connaught, the planetary capital. Was this another force not previously identified? Old Connaught was to the south, and any forces detached from there would be approaching from his left.
"Marthe," he snapped, switching to the command channel. "We are seeing Davion Guards outside New Hannover. Hovertanks for now…"
"It is two days since we last saw their cavalry regiment," his sibkin noted. "I believed they were refitting after the mauling we gave them then." She paused. "It is just as long since we confirmed sightings of their Second Battalion. They were under half-strength then, we almost caught their prince. You know how protective they are of their royalty."
"The Steiner-Davions and the Kells have a blood connection," Aidan recalled, although the details escaped him for the moment. He broke off for an instant as the Summoner closed in sharply, autocannon and PPC almost hitting him. A last minute flare of his jump jets got Aidan out of the path of the shots and he smashed the other Summoner's missile launcher with his own PPC's fire. "They could have been detached to reinforce the Hounds here."
He cut the channel and pulled back, he needed room to think! "Star Commander Horse, there could be a 'mech trinary behind those hover tanks. Prepare to refuse your flank…"
The next forty minutes were a chaotic melee as Aidan juggled the demands of supporting Joanna's push north of the highway with extracting Horse's trinary from a pincer formed of the Kell Hounds and the Third Davion Guards.
As the sun set and damage mounted on both sides, he was forced to order the Gyrfalcon Guards to pull back. Only nine 'mechs out of the fourteen Horse had fielded at the start of the day rejoined the force, although three of the mechwarriors had been picked up.
Diana's Black Lanner was the last to return, scorched to match its name but still fit to fight. "I was dueling one of their Hippogriffs," she reported. "Every time he was in trouble, the rest of them would shift focus to give him covering fire."
"She did well," Horse added when Joanna made a disparaging noise. "If she had not been fighting anything up to four 'mechs at a time, she would have defeated that mechwarrior. As it was, her Star took enough pressure for us to batter the Kell Hounds too much for them to try a counter attack."
Joanna grunted unhappily. "Nomad wants to talk to you about the Summoner," she told Aidan shortly.
He nodded. "Show me."
The aged Star Captain turned her back pointedly on Horse and Diana, marching alongside Aidan to where the battered Summoner - still visibly painted in red and black - had been dragged. Both legs were wrecks, from where Aidan had finally managed to cripple it. Unfortunately, the Wolfhound from earlier (identifiable from its missing right arm) had rushed in and picked up the mechwarrior before Aidan could claim him as a bondsman.
"I will not thank you for requesting my assignment here," she said shortly.
"It was an entirely selfish decision," he said wryly.
"I know. Like sending your… daughter to compete for a bloodname." Joanna's lips curled in disdain. "Every time I think you have stopped embarrassing the Clan with your antics, you find another way."
"She is a skilled mechwarrior."
His old teacher grunted. "Adequate. She could be better if you and Horse were not cosseting her."
That was almost praise, Aidan reflected as they reached Nomad.
The old tech was wiping his hands with an oily rag. He looked up at their approach. "Star Captain. Star Colonel."
"Joanna said you had something to say about this Summoner?" Aidan indicated the 'mech.
Nomad jerked his head in something approaching a nod. "It is not a Summoner."
"What?" Aidan looked at it again.
"Are you getting blind in your old age?" Joanna demanded.
"It is a copy," the tech grunted, ignoring the jibe. "The engine is too bulky, same with the structural members. Like the older equipment we still have in Brian Caches or garrison units. Star League technology. I think it was built here in the Inner Sphere."
Aidan ran one hand through his hair. "I knew the weapons were not our own. I thought that they had replaced the pods."
"It is not an omnimech either," Nomad told him, pocketing the rag. "No pods, everything is wired in."
"Usurper's bones," Aidan hissed.
"What?" Joanna demanded.
"The Inner Sphere is building machines that are almost as good as our own," he told her. "They already outnumber us. First the Hippogriff and now this. At this rate, our only edge will be the warriors and you saw how the Kell Hounds fought. I have seen less skilled warriors in our own touman."
"Not in the Guards," she objected.
Aidan paused and glanced at Joanna. "Not even Diana."
She scowled at him. "Do not put words into my mouth."
"Anyway," Nomad observed. "We can repair this, but it will take longer than the Star Captain's Mad Dog. And finding parts… we may have to see what a garrison unit can send us."
"Or what we find in the 'Mech Works," Aidan speculated. But in his imagination he could hear maglev trains pulling away to the west and he suspected that the Kell Hounds would leave little to be used.