11 - The Cards on the Table

DropShip Lodestar
New Exford, Lyran Commonwealth
29 July 3053

    “This is insane,” says Katsumi Kuramoto. “What did I do to them?”
    “Nothing at all,” is Brigitte’s reply. “They’re simply being thorough. They want to put a whole family line in the grave, and you – and this Com Guard cousin of yours – are the only ones still alive. They’ve wiped out every single ‘Matsunaka’ who was a member of the Clans. You’re a loose end to be dealt with, Kat.”
    Shaking her head as if to wake herself up, Katsumi sinks down into a chair in the Lodestar’s CIC. Horst reaches over and gives her shoulder a squeeze. He looks up at Olafsdottír. “We’ve got a plan?”
    “More or less. I’m going to talk to the commander of the Exford Militia and ask him for the use of the local exercise ranges. I don’t want these Jaguars going anywhere near a populated area; we have to contain them.”
    “And then what?” This is from Ben Gleason.
    Brigitte combs her hair back with her fingers. “Then I go talk to the Smoke Jaguars. I answer their challenge, and I make them a bid.”
    Ben looks at Tyler, blinks, and looks back. “I don’t follow.”
    “It’s how their warriors operate. They state their target, and then want to know what’s going to defend it from them. Then they bargain between themselves to figure out the minimum forces they’ll field to take the target,” Brigitte tells him. “It limits their losses. They’ll trim away fighters, troops, ’Mechs… It encourages the ones who make the cut to fight that bit harder.”
    “We saw that plain enough on Apollo,” Tyler confirms.
    “Since Katsumi is under my command, by Clan laws I can answer the challenge for her. I can tell the Jaguars where and when we’ll fight… and what we’ll be bringing to the battle.” Katsumi starts to protest, but Olafsdottír cuts her off with a raised hand. “No arguments, Kat. There’s no way in hell I’d even think of letting you go out there alone. Everyone here feels the same way. You’re one of us.”


CSJ Snow Leopard, Inbound Vector 145-Delta
New Exford System, Lyran Commonwealth

    “We are receiving a response, Star Commander,” announces the Tech at the comscan station.
    “Open a channel,” Juno orders, exchanging a look with her sib. Standing at her side, Silver is in her formal Smoke Jaguar dress uniform, her totem mask tucked under her arm. Except for her officer’s pins, Juno is wearing the exact same clothing.
    A holoscreen blinks into life on the primary display, revealing a woman with a shock of white-grey hair and brown skin that is several shades lighter than Juno’s. She takes a moment to study the two Jaguar Warriors before she speaks.
    “I am Captain Brigitte Olafsdottír, commander of the Norns mercenary company. Katsumi Kuramoto is one of my MechWarriors. I answer your batchall on her behalf.”
    Juno nods slightly in acknowledgment. “I am Star Commander Juno of the Sixth Jaguar Dragoons. I am come to enact a Trial of Annihilation against the tainted blood of your Warrior. With what forces do you contest this, Captain Brigitte?”
    “Thirteen BattleMechs of my command… including that of Katsumi Kuramoto. As the challenged party, I have selected the site for our battle. I am transmitting the co-ordinates now.” She glances out of frame for a moment. “I wish to know what you will wager as spoils, Commander Juno.”
    That makes Juno blink. “What do you mean?”
    “You will be fighting to destroy a Bloodline… to found a Bloodline of your own. That’s a great prize for a Clan Warrior, far greater than just winning a Bloodname and a chance at immortality. So… how much is it worth to you? Your ’Mechs? Your DropShip?”
    Silver leans over and mutes the channel. “Someone has warned her,” she hisses at Juno. “How else would she know about the Bloodline founding?”
    “Aff,” Juno says with a nod. “Someone else is chasing the Bloodright.” She gestures for Silver to re-open the audio function.
    “You are well-informed, Brigitte of the Norns.”
    The woman in the holoscreen nods. “The Steel Vipers have tried to claim the Bloodright already. They failed. Can your Jaguar Dragoons put on a better showing, Juno?”


DropShip Lodestar
New Exford, Lyran Commonwealth

    Ben Gleason winces at the look in Brigitte’s eyes. She reminds him of a hungry shark zeroing in on an unsuspecting swimmer.
    “Scares the shit out of me, and I’m not the one she’s talking to,” says a low voice from beside him. Ben blinks and turns his head. Tyler nods.
    They’re standing back, out of range of the holocamera pickup in the CIC: Ben, Tyler, Horst, and Katsumi. Michael Holznecht is handling the communications panel for Olafsdottír.
    The black woman on the repeater display is listening intently to someone out of view on her end. She turns her attention back to Brigitte.
    “I shall bid all five OmniMechs of my command to the Trial, Brigitte. We will meet in the field. Should I win, I claim the life of your Warrior.”
    “And should you lose, Juno Smoke Jaguar? What will you wager?”
    The Clanswoman’s dark eyes flash. Brigitte’s hit a nerve.
    “I wager my command, my ’Mechs, and the DropShip Snow Leopard. This I swear, upon my blood and in the name of the Founder.”
    “Well bargained and well bid,” Brigitte says with a curt nod. “We shall see you at the established site.” She looks over at Holznecht, who shuts down the channel.
    “Was she serious about that? Putting their DropShip up as booty?”
    Olafsdottír lets out a long breath before replying. “Deadly serious, Horst. I just had to get her to give her word. That meant annoying her… by suggesting the Steel Vipers were better than her people.”
    Tyler shakes his head. “They’re like… I don’t know, what? Barbarian tribes?”
    “Not too far off the mark,” Brigitte says. “From what this ‘Anna’ told me earlier, the Clans have fought against each other for hundreds of years, all in the name of sharpening their skills for their return to the Inner Sphere. Steel Vipers hate the Smoke Jaguars. The Jade Falcons loathe the Wolves.”
    “So… we’ve now got five fully-loaded OmniMechs coming in, and we’re going to be fighting them.” Ben looks around the compartment at his comrades. “I’m guessing we’re not going to be amazingly stupid here and try to take them on in one-on-one combat?”
    Brigitte snorts. “As if! They’re probably going to make a drive straight for Katsumi’s Dragon, but they’re not going to be covering each other. That would imply personal weakness… and each of them is going to want to claim Kat’s scalp. So – we show them the prize, and when they come charging in to grab it, we’ll cut them apart. We make them split up, and we pour fire into them.” She reaches down to punch up a map of the exercise ranges.
    “We need a spot where they can’t just hang back at range and use their big guns on us. Let’s find us a place where we can force them to close in.”

    “Why are they coming here? Why do they want to hurt Katsumi?”
    The Bomb looks up at Cameron. Rebecca, sitting on a crate of electronics, has set down her Barney and is regarding the two of them solemnly.
    How do you tell a child of seven about a ritualised murder? The Bomb has no idea where to start.
    Cameron sets aside his welding mask, pulls off his gloves, and sits down on the corner of the crate, next to his daughter. “They think that Katsumi did something very bad, hen. That’s why they’re coming here.”
    “Katsumi wouldn’t ever do anything bad.” Rebecca says this with the certainty that only a seven-year-old can feel. “They’re wrong. Stupid and wrong.”
    “I know… But they’re not listening to us, Rebecca.” The Bomb squats down so that she can look the child in the eye. “That’s why we’re getting the ’Mechs ready to fight. When these Smoke Jaguars land, they’re going to want to shoot at Katsumi… and we’re going to stop them.”
    Rebecca thinks it over for a moment before she grabs Barney and hops down off the crate. “I want to help,” she announces.
    “All right. Come with me, and you make sure I’m counting off the reloads properly on Amber’s Raven, okay?” The Bomb stands up and takes Rebecca’s free hand. She gives Cameron a small nod of acknowledgement.
    The Lodestar’s main ’Mech bay is as busy as she’s ever seen it. Up on top of Liam Tyler’s Enforcer, she can see Sharyl lending a hand to one of the astechs, making a last-minute fix to an armour plate. Over by the aft lift platform, Delaney and Tammy are discussing something about her rebuilt Wolfhound. Cassettes of armour-defeating ammunition are being wheeled across the central decking ready for transfer into the storage bins of Brigitte’s Axeman.
    There was never any question – in The Bomb’s mind – that the Norns would let Katsumi face these maniacs alone. Not over some crazy ‘death sentence’ dating from a couple of hundred years ago. It’s just going to be a case of seeing how many Jaguars are going to be smoking wreckage by the end of the day.
    “Here we go, Rebecca. We’ll do the SRM reloads first. Count them off for me, and I’ll handle the hoist.”
    “Bomb?”
    “Yes, sweetie?”
    “Daddy’s really upset about this. He likes Katsumi. I like Katsumi. These Smoked Jaguars are bad for upsetting him.”
    “I know, Rebecca… But Brigitte, Tyler, and the others are going to make them sorry for it. Very sorry.”

    “Hey,” Katsumi says, prodding Cameron Mackenzie in the shoulder.
    “Hey you,” he says in reply. “How are you holding up?”
    She sighs. “Been better. Not every day a girl learns she’s the target of some ancient assassination order, you know?”
    “Well, your ride’s as good as me and Jerry can make it… but that’s not what’s bothering you, is it?”
    Katsumi turns away, sticking her hands into her jacket pockets. “No. No, it’s not. I… Cameron, those Clanners are coming here after me. Brigitte and the rest are going to take them on. I don’t deserve that! What if one of them gets hurt, or even killed?”
    “You’ve never had to deal with that before, have you?” The question makes her spin on her heel to face him. “Seriously, though… you haven’t.”
    Her mouth works for a moment before she answers him. “No. I… Look, all my arena fights back on Solaris were one-on-one bouts. Never any of those team matches for the Hirsch Cup. I didn’t have to worry about anyone other than me.
    “Now it’s all different. That business with Professor Kale was over almost before it started, and the Parakoila raid was nothing like this…”
    “Look,” Cameron says, reaching out to place one of his massive hands on her shoulder. “You’ve fought beside them, you’ve proven you’re not a ‘pretend’ MechWarrior. You’re not a coward, Katsumi. I know that. So… what’s wrong?”
    “I’m going to let them all down,” she says in a tiny voice. “I know it.”
    “You won’t.”
    “You don’t know that!”
    He shrugs. “Don’t have to. It’s about belief, Kat. I believe that you won’t let them down. That’s all I need. You’ll go out there and kick these idiots back to wherever they’re from.”
    Before she can burst into tears, Katsumi has her arms around him – as far as her arms can reach, anyway – and gives him a fierce hug.

    “Guess that’s progress,” Sharyl says from her perch up on the shoulder of the Enforcer. Liam, standing up in the ’Mech’s cockpit, stops reading through his pre-walk checklist and looks in the direction she’s indicating.
    “Guess it is,” he replies. “That’s five C-bills I owe you.”
    “Hey!”
    “Five, remember? We said fifty if they get themselves a hotel room and we don’t see them for a week.”
    “Miser,” Sharyl grumbles.
    Liam leans his elbows on the edge of the cockpit’s opened escape hatch and gives her a speculative look. “You do know that I’ve got a hundred C’s running on you abducting Sergeant Gleason and having your sordid way with him before Christmas?”
    “You fracking…!” Sharyl feels her face burning as she rounds on him. She blinks. “Who’s running the book on that?”
    “Midge. She’s got you down for New Year’s Eve to move in and do the dirty.”
    “You’re disgusting.”
    Liam nods judiciously. “Most folks have called me that. Can’t really deny it.”