TEXT: BattleCorps
  HUNTER OR 
  HUNTED
  Randall N. Bills
  Chapter Two
  
  BattleCorps
  Hunter or Hunted: Chapter 2 • Page 2
  Clovis River 
  Near New Freedom, Lyons 
  Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance 
  4 February, 3063
  “Blake’s Blood!” J said for the sixth time. Or was seventh? Kevin 
  couldn’t remember. Course J simply voiced what everyone else in 
  the company was thinking. 
  Eager to defend their world, Kevin’s company had deployed to 
  one of a dozen sites that Intel said was a probable grounding site 
  for the Nova Cats. Fate heard their prayers and a Union-C-class 
  DropShip hove into view, streaking down through the sky like a 
  fallen angel. He’d already radioed for reinforcements, but the near-
  est was Charlie’s Striker company and it would take them a good 
  two hours to arrive and that’s if they came running and hell bent. 
  Two hours, Kevin knew, they didn’t have when the Nova Cats 
  executed a full hover-drop maneuver. Not only did a full Trinary 
  of fifteen ’Mechs—two Stars carrying battle armor; a few of them 
  designs he’d never seen or even heard of before—fell from the 
  DropShip, meaning he was slightly outgunned and outnumbered, 
  but the expertise required to move that many ’Mechs out of a 
  moving DropShip and safely to the ground shook him. His troops 
  were eager, but they were as green as spring grass compared to 
  these Clanners and if he wasn’t careful, the Nova Cats would mow 
  them down.
  At least he’d been able to knock his troops out of their malaise and 
  they’d even managed to destroy two light Clan ’Mechs before they’d 
  even touched soil. However, once on the ground, the lethal firepow-
  er of the Clan machines began to take their toll and he’d been forced 
  into a tactical withdrawal. It was galling, but he wasn’t stupid. Trade 
  ground for time against a superior armed foe; nothing else he could 
  do. As it was, he’d lost Christian’s Enforcer to the azure whip of a 
  PPC blast to the head and Angelica’s Cobra had simply collapsed in 
  on itself with the amount of damage it received. Two other ’Mech’s 
  were crippled, forcing him to leave them where they stood. In less 
  then twenty minutes, the Clanners almost completely routed his 
  command, forcing them from their entrenched position in covered 
  terrain and corralling them some three kilometers already from the 
  original site. It was enough to raise his bile.
  Alarms sparked once more, warning of a target lock. Years of 
  hard won reflexes had him side stepping his Uziel with out con-
  
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  scious thought when the twin extended range particle projector 
  cannon beams rent the air; only one caught his machine. Of 
  course one was enough as it tore into his right arm, the super-
  heated beam vaporizing the armor on his left arm into a cloud of 
  metallic vapor and over heating the Mech’s right arm ‘bone;’ a 
  honeycombed, foamed-aluminum core wrapped with stressed sili-
  con-carbide monofilament and protected by a rigid, titanium-steel 
  shell. Though one of the most damage resistant materials ever 
  created by man, the PPC was one of the most destructive weap-
  ons ever created; red lights burned into existence on his damage 
  schematic as the bone fractured. He continued to sidle side ways, 
  putting more terrain in between his unseen attacker and himself 
  as he pulled in a lungful off hot air and frustration, while he further 
  surveyed the damage. It looked as though his left arm’s upper ac-
  tuator was history but he breathed a momentary sigh of relief his 
  own PPC still functioned. It would be harder to aim with the faulty 
  arm, but it preferable to having his firepower halved.
  “Commander, I’ve got bogey’s coming in at three-four-four. I mark 
  it as two ’Mechs, unidentified.” Checking his situational map, he 
  realized Jak’s report belatedly confirmed his own encounter with 
  those same bogeys. 
  “I copy,” he responded. “I’ve already encountered our uninvited 
  guests and they left me with a nasty gift.”
  “You okay boss?”
  “I’ll live but another few gifts like that and my shiny, new ride will 
  be history.” He again looked at his situational map and toggled to 
  the topographical as he kept his Uziel on the move. It looked like 
  the two enemy ’Mechs—he prayed it was only two—had flanked 
  his current position on the left. He knew his fast paced retreat left 
  some of the slower Clan machines behind; he’d seen a Supernova 
  and the thought of his green troops facing the ninety-ton monster 
  almost made him break out into a sweat. However, if these were 
  the only two Clanners that managed to catch up to his troops, 
  then there just might be a chance to cut them down before their 
  reinforcements could arrive. After another moment’s look at the 
  topographical, he made the call and in less than thirty seconds his 
  remaining troops were on the move, the thumping gate and sway-
  ing motion of his own machine on the move confirmation of his 
  commitment to the plan.
  Almost a full fifteen minutes passed before contact occurred 
  again. Kevin guessed the approximate line of march of the two 
  Clan flankers and set up a net of moving ’Mechs that swept forward 
  
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  in an enfolding motion. This left him dangerously over exposed 
  should the main element find his flank completely exposed, but 
  allowing the two flankers to continue their activities would doom 
  his command even quicker.
  Chatter erupted across the commline as the twin Clan ’Mechs 
  were met first by one and then another of his company followed in 
  quick succession. By the time he crested a rise to view the battle 
  field, he could see a Clan Nobori-nin smoldering on the tundra 
  and before he could even bring his PPCs on-line, the Nova Cat 
  Fenris took a final, fatal blow to the center torso and the ’Mech’s 
  upper half literally slid off backwards as the legs crumpled to the 
  side. Though he could see two more of his own ’Mechs on the 
  ground, he was still pleased and he opened up a commline to his 
  company.
  “I see the Cat can be de-clawed.” The round of hearty laughter 
  that followed lifted his spirit, as he knew the fight lifted theirs. 
  They’d not been beaten yet.
  v v v
  The metal giant stood over the smoldering corpses of two young-
  er brethren, their twisted remains splattered with leaking coolant 
  and ochre dirt, creating for a moment the look of blood, as the 
  viscous liquid slowly sloughed off onto the ground. 
  The scene was suddenly shattered as a Point of Sylph battle ar-
  mor flew into his field of vision; probably there to collect the fallen 
  warrior’s Giftakes. Even after months, the almost effete battle ar-
  mor, with their thin limbs and over sized VTOL engines mounted 
  high on their backs, seemed wrong to Caden. Then again, who 
  was he to complain about looks when they’d proven so effective 
  on the battlefield? For a moment he wondered what the Merchant 
  Caste had traded to Clan Cloud Cobra for the new battle armor 
  design. 
  “Surats,” Caden swore after concentrating again on the fallen 
  Nobori-nin and Ice Ferret, uncaring that such a comment was loud 
  enough to be picked up by the mike and carried to his Star mates. 
  Studying the information on his forward view screen and tactical 
  displays, it was obvious the two warriors were caught in an am-
  bush. Anger stirred with in, but did not crest where it once might 
  have. 
  
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  The Clan way of combat involved warriors declaring a one-on-
  one challenge to each other and then fighting to the finish, before 
  moving onto to another warrior. The honor in such a battle was 
  obvious. But when the Clans returned to invade the Inner Sphere, 
  they had found a foe that did not shirk at using every underhanded, 
  dishonorable tactic to defeat their foes. Though the warriors of the 
  Draconis Combine held more honor than most Spheroids, even 
  they had lines across which they left their honor. So now that the 
  Nova Cats were intertwined with the Inner Sphere, every warrior 
  found he could not always fight in the traditional way laid down 
  across two centuries. There were times when such honor must be 
  set aside for the greater good of the Clan. 
  Abruptly Caden realized something that should have been ob-
  vious for some time. Though it had been over two years since 
  his Cluster fought in actual combat, it had participated in several 
  joint training exercises with select Combine units; an effort by his 
  Khan to further integrate the Clan with the Combine he surmised. 
  However, during those exercises, his Cluster suffered numerous 
  humiliating defeats at the hands of the Combine troops. At the 
  time, he believed it a simple case of his warriors unaccustomed 
  to the dishonorable tactics employed against them, as well as the 
  fact that no live ammunition was used; Clan training always in-
  volved live ammunition. 
  Now, however, he believed it something much more insidious. 
  Nova Cat warriors were losing their edge. They were Clan warriors, 
  and yet Spheroid surats were out performing them. Yes, this had 
  been an ambush, but they only eliminated two ’Mechs before they 
  died. During the Clan invasion, a half dozen enemy ’Mechs would 
  have littered the ground before these two MechWarriors fell. 
  With such understanding came anger, rearing until he clenched 
  teeth to keep from slamming his fist into a secondary monitor. 
  What are we becoming? Our Khans chose to cast the lot of the 
  Nova Cats with the Inner Sphere to survive, but in doing so we are 
  sapping away the strength of our warrior caste. We are losing the 
  power of our vision!
  This he could not accept and he spoke before he fully realized 
  what words he might speak. “I will recommend that Tora Lossey’s 
  Giftake be disbarred from the breeding program.” Silence filled 
  the commline and even he was taken a back by his words.
  The Clan’s eugenics program worked to develop the ultimate 
  warrior through selective genetic breeding and then harsh, mar-
  tial training. Caden himself, along with over half of his Star were 
  
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  Trueborns, gestated in iron-wombs. The other half were Freebirths, 
  those of natural birth, and though the Nova Cats did not have such 
  harsh views on the subject as some Clans, Freebirths were still 
  generally looked down upon as a lesser individuals. For a Clan 
  warrior, to have one’s genetic material included in the eugen-
  ics program was their drive, the meaning of their very existence, 
  their way to gain immortality. Usually, once a warrior won their 
  Bloodname through numerous, severe Trials of combat, it was as-
  sured. However, in cases where a warrior died ignominiously, their 
  Giftake could be denied. 
  ”Ah Caden, Tora was Bloodnamed,” Jesika spoke, her voice soft 
  but filled with reason. “It appears even in ambush they fought 
  valiantly, dispatching two ’Mechs.” 
  Though he knew she was right, something in him could not let 
  this pass. Deep inside he knew this might be wrong, but maybe, 
  just maybe, he could use it as a lesson to turn Nova Catsmen back 
  into the warriors they were bred to be. After all, wasn’t their cur-
  rent Oathmaster constantly using the memory of the fallen hero 
  Zane to show the Clan how they could still be Clansmen and live 
  among the people of the Inner Sphere? Was this not the same? 
  “Only two,” he continued, harsh words not even sounding con-
  vincing to him; this was the right thing to do…right? He forced 
  himself to continue. “A Commando and an Assassin? A Star of 
  Sylphs could have done the job. Tora disgraced herself and I will 
  not have her tainted material mixed in the gene pool of future 
  Nova Cats! Is that clear, quiaff?”
  “Aff” came the subdued reply.
  Unwilling to think a moment more about this action, he quickly 
  began issuing orders to speed his warriors after the retreating 
  ambushers. Better to keep his mind occupied with battle, than to 
  think about Tora. After all, it was better sacrifice one person if it 
  benefited the Clan, right. 
  That was the Clan way, after all…
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/BattleTech [multi]/EXTRA/Novels/Battlecorps Novels/Hunter or Hunted Pt 03 - Randall N. Bills.pdf