The Cat in the Mirror, Part 1

Story by MohammedAsZaman 
Clan Nova Cat Landing Zone Luthien Draconis Combine January 4, 3052 Before Dawn
“All Trinary Striker elements, please report to conference room 201 for briefing.”
Mechwarrior Stephen hurried down the busy corridor towards the lift. The fastener to his neural helmet’s chin strap needed repair and kept forgetting to have it serviced. He made a mental note that he was sure to forget by the time he returned to the LZ.
The conference room was packed, Stephen was glad that he wasn’t assigned to a Binary, the room was far too small for Elementals.
“Listen up, all of you,” Star Captain Janet Drummond was never one for wasting time, she fired up the holographic projector and highlighted several unit icons on display, “All of you have already received the briefing concerning Clan Smoke Jaguar’s obviously asinine battle plan, which I officially call, ‘Clan Smoke Jaguar’s Obviously Asinine Battle Plan’, just in case you were unaware.” The plan’s title appeared in large letters above the projected map. “This is a refresher briefing,” stated the star captain, “as we already know, Clan Smoke Jaguar intends to win this battle on their own, with Clan Nova Cats as passive observers.” The trinary members chuckled. “We are about fifty kilometers from Luthien, a heavily urbanized capitol city,” Drummond said, “it is ringed by defensive batteries, which will be a problem if we fail to close with them swiftly.”
She opened the map to show the planet, “Khan Furey is gambling on numerous, small attacks scattered across the planet will deny the capitol of vital reinforcements,” Drummond shook her head, “I disagree, the Draconis Combine is more than willing to make sacrifices in order to achieve victory; How many times has this enemy sacrificed soldiers and vehicles to save their battlemech forces, in order to fight another battle? Khan Furey has even forgotten that on Wolcott, the Combine forces sacrificed their honor in order to secure victory, and caused Clan Smoke Jaguar to shamefully flee the field,” she looked from one pilot to another, “our enemy knows our target, does any fool actually believe that they will not easily sacrifice a handful of targets of little importance in order to defend that known target?”
The map returned to a display of the path as outlined in Khan Furey’s plan. “The 119th shall first assemble in battle line, two hundred fifty meters behind the First Jaguar Cluster,” the unit icons appeared on the map. “From our landing zone, we shall maintain sequence toward Tairakana Plains here, beside Basin Lake, where we expect to meet the first major resistance,” Khan Furey expects to make little work of these defenders and charge into Waseda Hills, unopposed.” She shrugged, “Well, that is the plan.”
One of the pilots raised his hand, “What about their aerospace?”
“Funny you should ask,” replied Drummond, “I posed the same question to Khan Furey and he was dismissive, he assured me that the savagery of his pilots shall clear the skies of opposition, on the first day.”
“What about the dropships we lost while burning in and on final approach?”
“The day is not over, yet,” explained the star captain, “so do your best to stay alive, because we will need to extract our valuable forces from this disaster.”
Drummond straightened up, “Trinary Striker,” the pilots snapped to attention, “fall out and mount up!”
“Yes, star captain!”
Sunrise
Stephen marched his Mad Dog to join his starmates. He looked at his navigation display and his star’s position was marked. As one, the five omnimechs moved to assume their assigned starting location. The sky was just beginning to glow through the gray industrial haze that blanketed the skies over the city. The Clan Smoke Jaguar lines were already arrayed in line abreast while it was still dark, they were so anxious, even though the time to advance on the enemy was set.
“This is Khan Furey speaking,” crackled the radio.
Stephen rolled his eyes, “Oh, please, not a silly, motivational speech!” He turned the volume down and tapped an icon in order to play a game of solitaire, to fend off imminent boredom, waiting for Clan Smoke Jaguar to finally get on with the battle.
In the middle of his fourth hand, there was cheering over the comm and Stephan saw the Smoke Jaguar line begin to trudge forward. “About bloody time!” The mechwarrior never liked the condescending manner Khan Furey addressed people, like a Sibko instructor who could only talk to children, so that is how he talked to everybody. The speech was a droning, prosy affair, with a smattering of Sibko-level platitudes that would drive even a Sibko member to challenge Furey to a Circle of Equals, just to shut him up.
“Point Three, neaten up the line.”
He hadn’t noticed that the Jaguar line had slowed and he was outpacing the others in his formation, “Heh, just eager to get ahead.”
“Maintain formation, the enemy is not going anywhere, Stephen.”
There was the flash of muzzles and the strobing of lasers as the First Jaguar Cluster engaged the enemy across their line. The Nova Cats were ordered to halt and hold their position, despite the larger number of enemy units ahead of the Clan forces. Enemy battlemechs toppled to the ground and the First Jaguar Cluster surged forward in triumph. Stephen was slowly becoming depressed, as the Jaguars were about to destroy their opponents so handily.
The whole planet seemed to shake. Massive explosions some three hundred meters ahead sent columns of mushroom clouds into the air, as well as limbs and fragments of battlemechs. He saw a star of omnimechs rush a lance of enemy machines and engulfed in brilliant light before being flung like broken toys. A Warhawk, its legs shredded, stumbled drunkenly and trod on a cluster of landmines before crashing headlong into the field of tall grass, now burning in spots.
Stephen shook his head, “Star Captain Drummond was right, again!” The mechwarrior saw the folly of Khan Furey’s insult by refusing to offer batchall, he literally told the Draconis Combine that dishonorable combat was expected, and their only choice. To most Clan warriors, the difference between honorable and dishonorable combat is a simple matter of checking a box. Khan Furey totally lacked the imagination required to anticipate the devious capabilities of Inner Sphere warriors and is now being taught a lesson that he cannot fathom, because he refuses the grant the Inner Sphere any form of respect.
Morning
An icon appeared to the right flank of the Jaguar line, then two, then five then a dozen and more. “Otomo,” Stephen said to himself, as he checked the unit identification. The front line was in chaos, with the sudden appearance of the elite Inner Sphere unit. He checked his comm, still no messages, “What are we waiting for?” More icons appeared, this time, Clan aerospace fighters, “Now this is an insult,” murmured Stephen, “instead of calling us, Clan Smoke Jaguar would rather be saved by their aerospace,” he keyed his microphone, “Is it too late for us to change sides?” His comment was met with laughter.
“Why am I not surprised?” Stephen slumped in his command couch as Clan Smoke Jaguar units, called from the reserves, moved forward, while the Nova Cat elements, originally give the task, were being slighted. More enemy unit icons appeared on his display. “First Sword of Light, Second Legion of Vega…” the Smoke Jaguar had pounced and instead of bearing down their opponent, they had been stopped in their tracks and were being shaken in the jaws of the Dragon as a terrier would shake a rat. He rather liked that image.
Bolstered by fresh Clan Smoke Jaguar reserves and aerospace support, the First Sword of Light gradually gave ground, but made the haughty Jaguars pay for every meter.
Star Colonel Thara Lossey finally transmitted the message that Stephen for which he had awaited all morning, “119th Striker Cluster, prepare to advance.” He looked forward and could barely discern the Clan Smoke Jaguar line ahead, the fighting was obscured by smoke from the burning tall grass and flaming wreckage of both friend and foe machines. Above the battle, Smoke Jaguar aerospace units no longer struck with impunity, as a swarm of Draconis Combine air units had arrived to challenge Clan control of the skies and savaged Clan Smoke Jaguar’s tactical air support, scattering formations, driving many away and sending others plummeting to the ground.
As a single organism, the Clan Nova Cat battle line marched forward at a slow walk. “Maintain formation, keep it neat,” commanded Star Captain Drummond, “Show the Jaguars how a disciplined, elite unit fights.”
“The Draconis Combine has already given them that lesson, Star Captain,” commented Stephen.
“Point taken, Stephen, I stand corrected,” replied Drummond, “it will behoove all of you to pay attention to the invaluable lesson Clan Smoke Jaguar is presenting to us, on what not to do.”
“Star Captain Drummond, I have a question,” said Stephen.
Drummond replied, “If it is pertinent, ask away.”
“I believe the question is pertinent to the current situation, Star Captain,” Stephen commented, “How exactly did Clan Smoke Jaguar achieve a Clan-wide reputation as the most powerful Clan? To be clear, I see nothing in the histories to prove that claim.”
“Ah,” the captain stalled to gather her response, “I am going to have to put it this way,” she slowly pieced together her answer, “I suppose, mind you, I suppose, that it was a rumor started among the Smoke Jaguars and repeated often enough to the other Clans and left unchallenged to the point that the rumor was eventually accepted as truth,” she sighed in seeming exasperation, “we are prone to that kind of gullibility, aren’t we?”
“Indeed, Star Captain,” Stephen agreed, “This whole invasion has opened my eyes to a reality unrealized in the Home Worlds.”
The ground shook as artillery rounds landed among the Smoke Jaguar ranks one hundred fifty meters ahead of them. Stephen had never faced artillery before and the very thought of an unseen opponent attacking without any form of retaliation rather unsettling.
Star Colonel Sean Wirth growled as his Gargoyle staggered, missiles, particle beams and gauss projectiles tore rents in its once pristine armor. “Trinary Commander Maximillian Devalis,” he sneered over the link, “Why do your stars not advance to support my unit? I am being attacked by massed vehicles.”
Devalis answered casually, “I do not recall my trinary being attached to support you, Star Colonel,” he mocked, “Your task is to sweep aside all resistance –Is not your broom big enough for the job?”
“Have a care, Nova Cat!” hissed Wirth, “Lest I teach you a lesson in a Circle of Equals.”
“Obviously the ones wielding the brooms are out of their depth…”
Mechwarrior Stephen chuckled at the exchange between the commanders, he wondered if there would be a point where the two clans would ignore the planet’s defenders and attempt to destroy each other. “No matter what happens,” he muttered to himself, “Clan Smoke Jaguar will place the blame on ilKhan Kerensky.”
On his display, it appeared that the First Sword of Light’s center had broken and, much to his chagrin, a Smoke Jaguar reserve trinary rushed into the gap ahead of his unit. Much to his surprise, a unit icon suddenly appeared, it was a green banner with a gold fringe and a curious script that with which he was wholly unfamiliar. “8th Arkab Legion?” His computer had no information on the unit at all, was it newly formed?
Through the smoke and dust, he saw an Atlas, painted in light earth tones with mottled green; at its ponderous feet, a formation of unmistakable Star League era vehicles, like snarling attack dogs. “That has to be their commander!” Stephen exclaimed. A pair of VTOLs swooped through the fighting units, their lasers blazing. These too, were of Star League design. Who were these warriors? He accessed his onboard computer and established that there were only seven Arkab legions, and four of them had been destroyed over the years. The reports showed that the Arkab Legions were unique due to their fielding pristine Star League equipment, despite centuries without supply. It was another mystery.
Ahead of him, Stephen watched the Atlas blast a Gargoyle’s head from its shoulders. Three Mad Dogs rushed forward to challenge the three Puma heavy tanks that blasted away at the Smoke Jaguar ranks. Once the trio of heavy omnimechs planted their feet and attempted to intimidate the three vehicles, the formation sped forward, flanked them, then raked their rear armor with massed fire, which immediately sent one of the Mad Dogs sprawling to the ground. The Atlas fired continuously, all the while it was enveloped by a white cloud. Stephen could barely make out the vehicle behind the Atlas, which sported a set of turrets from which it sprayed the assault battlemech with streams of coolant, allowing the Atlas to fire its weapons without overheating.
It was just after the beheaded Gargoyle dropped to the ground, that a voice could be heard over the din of combat:
“Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar!
Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar!
Ash-hadu an la ilaha illa-llah
Ash-hadu an la ilaha illa-llah
Ash-hadu anna Muhammadan rasulu-llah
Ash-hadu anna Muhammadan rasulu-llah.”
Stephen felt the hair at the back of his neck stand up at the melodious call, which rang out in a clear tenor voice. He could see the plains littered with wreckage, strewn with destroyed fighting machines as Clan omnimechs and battlemechs of the Inner Sphere struggled against one another, in a senseless battle that was entirely avoidable.
“This is insanity!” he exclaimed, “how can we maintain the delusion of superiority after witnessing their expertise at true warfare?”
“Stephen, what is wrong?” Captain Drummond was concerned.
“Just look!” he replied, “have you ever seen Clan Smoke Jaguar units in such confusion and disarray?” He noted that not only had his star halted, but his entire trinary paused to watch the savage battle before them, an obscure Inner Sphere unit had interposed itself between the advancing Clan units and the stream of broken, damaged and demoralized units fleeing the front line. They refused to yield a millimeter, but fought and fell where they stood, not without taking a toll on the proud Smoke Jaguar ranks, which also sent damaged omnimechs back to waiting repair bays. Then the Smoke Jaguar line stepped back, almost withdrawing to the Nova Cat line to avoid the constant rain of artillery. It was during that brief moment that the stalwart 8th Arkab Legion also backed away, then retired in good order while their three valiant Pumas, their armor rent and stripped bare, remained in contact with the Jaguar line, firing their weapons in every direction, until under massed fire they perished.
“Dress the line, Striker Trinary,” ordered the star captain, “at a walk, advance!”
The Nova Cat line marched smartly forward, only pausing to dispatch a lone Sword of Light Jenner, a leg severed and propped against a tree, that refused to surrender.
“Unless we find wounded or mercenaries,” commented Stephen, “there shall be scant prisoners, but their tenacity will cost us even more.”
On his display, Stephen could see that the Clan forces were advancing across its front, chasing down fleeing Combine units, occasionally finding small knots of resistance by those unable to flee fast enough. They advanced upon a range of mildly rolling terrain called Waseda Hills but the display showed a small grouping of omnimechs whose advance was halted by a single target marked by an 8th Arkab Legion icon. “Alpha Star, follow me!” he kicked his mech forward and pushed the throttle to maximum speed. “Captain Drummond, you must see this!”
The plains before Waseda Hills was spotted with occasional stands of trees and Stephen could see a mass of omnimechs gathering ahead of him, with more rushing to view the spectacle, from every direction. His Mad Dog slowed to a walk as he moved into a gap between the throng of Clan omnimechs, just in time to watch an Adder collapse, both its left torso and head destroyed. Stalking about the defeated Adder was a Crab battlemech, painted in the mottled desert colors of the Arkab Legion. The Crab’s armor was badly scarred, its arms battered and nearly stripped bare, yet it still fought on, accepting one challenger after another.
Stephan looked at the Nova standing beside him, “Walter, what did I miss?”
“Hey, Stephen,” replied the Nova’s pilot, “I hear he has taken down a Gargoyle, Mad Dog, Summoner, Hellbringer and this Adder, all from Clan Smoke Jaguar” he added, “I arrived to see the Summoner go down, but I have to add, those omnimechs were in sorry shape to begin with and probably did not expect a pristine Star League battlemech to bar their path.”
“I am Trinary Commander Chu-sa Sven Shamash of the incomparable Eighth Arkab Legion! Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful commands that I defend the way to Waseda Hills and to the Imperial City beyond. Hegira is offered to those wise enough to turn back. Who will be the first to challenge, allowing no other to interfere?” The Crab swiveled its torso from side to side as it stalked in a circle. In response, every omnimech present raised their arms in challenge, each pilot hoping for a chance at glory before their peers.
Stephen practically jumped from his seat, the arms of his Mad Dog raised high. His heart pounded as the Crab paused and turned in his direction. Suddenly, Walter’s Nova stepped in front of his Mad Dog. “Accepted,” announced the Crab’s pilot.
“Blast you, Walter!” shouted Stephen, this wasn’t the first time Mechwarrior Walter had cut in line ahead of him…
The Crab broke into a lateral run. Walter’s Nova dashed straight at the Crab, its heavy pulse laser raked the Crab’s torso and ripped away armor. The medium autocannon burst flew wide. The Crab returned fire, reduced layers of the Nova’s armor to molten slag.
The Crab then backed away. More of the Crab’s armor pecked away by the Nova’s autocannon. The Crab’s weapons tore into the Nova and left gaping holes in its torso and limbs.
The fight slowly edged its way towards the Waseda Hills. Stephen noted on his display -two columns of Clan omnimechs had continued on their way into the low foothills and were chasing down the slower DCMS units as they attempted to flee to safety. He also took notice of the one column of Nova Cats that paused to witness this battle.
The Crab managed to avoid the Nova’s pulse laser but the rapid-firing autocannon still managed to score hits. The Arkab battlemech barely managed to keep the distance where its particle cannon was just within range. The pulse laser couldn’t hit the Crab if it maintained range, but it could not escape the autocannon's telling fire, and shards of its armor fell away.
Stephen realized that this current fight had lasted over five minutes. The Crab suddenly halted and allowed the furious Nova to charge forward. The Arkab battlemech braced and fired all three weapons, its PPC, Large and Medium Lasers, which destroyed the omnimech’s left torso. Before the Nova’s left arm fell away, it fired its autocannon one last time before the omnimech’s fusion engine shut down.
Again, Stephen raised his Mad Dog’s arms in challenge. He silently smirked as Walter emerged from his crippled Nova. The Crab turned about, ringed by dozens of Clan Nova Cat omnimechs, each eager to taste battle that day.
“Captain Drummond,” said the mechwarrior over the comm, “we must do all we can to capture this brilliant warrior! We need him!”
“Aff,” agreed his commander, “I shall tell the others in the trinary, should they be chosen.”
“Please forgive my delay,” the Crab’s pilot announced, “I needed a moment to recalibrate my targeting system.” The Star League machine slowly rotated, as if looking for something in particular. “The gray Mad Dog with the scattered star pattern, I accept your challenge. Please announce your name and unit so that I may know with whom I have the honor of battling.”
“I am Mechwarrior Stephen, One Hundred Nineteenth Nova Cat Striker Cluster, Striker Trinary, Alpha Striker Star,” he was glad he didn’t babble like a fool, he was suddenly so nervous.
The Crab immediately began to back away, weapons raised and ready.
End of Part 1
See The Cat in the Mirror, Part 2
Category:Fan Fiction
Category:8th Arkab Legion Stories
Category:Works by MohammedAsZaman