DMHR8

=Chapter 8=
==Dead Man's Hand: Second Star to the Right==
Outskirts, Bolsun
Nox
Clan Wolf Occupation Zone
11th September, 3054
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"Okay, this may not have been the smartest thing I've ever tried..." Joker admitted as she slowly and carefully hauled herself up onto the roof of the old motel.
Prying open the wooden boards covering the window hadn't been too difficult, but in the darkness, she'd underestimated just how high up she actually was. It had only been when the planets moon poked out from behind some clouds that she realized that the building was overlooking a deep gorge, filled with sharp, jagged rocks and other things she didn't want to think about. Unfortunately, by that point, she was already committed, having managed to get out onto a narrow ledge. From there she'd managed to get a grip on the frame of the window above, and had started to climb upwards. Upon seeing just how high up she actually was, it was only a miracle that she hadn't fallen to her death.
Fortunately, the roof wasn't very steep, and there was a flat, slightly sunken walkway running along the middle, leading to a door. Crouching down, she scurried along, really hoping that she hadn't tripped any unseen alarms or was about to stumble into a guard looking to take a cigarette break. Fortunately, the door as unlocked, and led to a set of unguarded stairs. Making her way down to the top floor, she carefully snuck a glance around the corner, making sure that the hallway was empty. Most of the rooms looked like they hadn't been touched in some time, while others showed signs of being used for storage. Availing herself of a small pry-bar, Joker made her way back to the stairs and down to the next floor.
This one was guarded, but it soon became apparent that the local resistance was either poorly trained, or felt secure in their base. Either way, the guard she saw was practically asleep on the job, and it hadn't taken much to send him the rest of the way. Taking his side arm and keys, Joker made her way from room to room: they were thankfully empty, but the way fought bunks had been set up in most, it looked like she'd found where most of the resistance fighters were sleeping. Returning to the stairs, she looked down: the next floor would be where she'd been held, which meant two armed guards, alert and on the lookout for trouble. Unfortunately, the door from the stairwell to the hallway was missing, and her odds at sneaking down to the no doubt occupied ground floor were slim. That left going back to the roof and looking for alternatives.
The moon was out in force, so Joker kept low as she made her way to the far end of the building and looked out: there was a stretch of open ground covered in light foliage, then a small house. Beyond that lay open woodland, and the possibility of... she had no idea: she was still very much making it up as she went along, as every time she tried to come up with a plan, the universe decided to throw a wrench into the works.
It really shouldn't surprised her when she heard the unmistakable sound of a rocket in flight, just moments before an explosion engulfed the building, right where her room had been. The shock propagated through the roof like a rolling wave, and Joker barely had time to react before she was thrown from the edge and out into the void.
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The APC was ancient, having obviously been passed from unit to unit for what looked to have been the better part of a century, before finding itself in the hands of the Nox militia. Since the planets conquest, it had been used to transport local Auxiliaries and Solahma troops, and Natasha Kerensky could not help but feel it appropriate that such an aged but still perfectly serviceable vehicle was her ride into the unknown.
Amongst the Clans, only Ulric Kerensky knew she had a biological daughter, something he had found humors. At first, she had found his reaction perplexing, but then he had counseled her to keep the secret: she already had enemies amongst both her own Clan, and the others, and they would not hesitate to use any advantage they could against her. The revelation that she had birthed a child, regardless of the circumstances, would set their mouths watering. Never mind that the child's father as someone even the Clans respected for his prowess on the battlefield, or that she had proven herself to be a skilled, if undisciplined and impulse MechWarrior in her own right. She was living proof that the great and dreaded Black Window was ultimately only human.
This, she could have allowed, had her... offspring, chosen a line of work that kept her far away from the Clans. Then her existence would have been relatively inconsequential. But no, she had not only unknowingly followed her parents chosen profession, but seemed intent on goading the Clans at every opportunity. The Watch report on her actions on Malibu had been interesting reading, but the Khan was experienced enough to read between the lines and see just how close the battle had been. All it would have needed was a simple genetic screening. Looking for traces of just one of a hundred Bloodlines that the Clans were vigilant for, and they would have spotted the unmistakable DNA of the Kerensky line. The markers indicating the genetic modifications that had been made across generations of selective breeding in the Iron Wombs.
It would not have taken them long to realize that only a single member of that illustrious line was present in the Inner Sphere at the time she was conceived...
Natasha Kerensky chastised herself, and not for the first time. She had allowed herself to become intoxicated around that... Man! And then allowed him to talk his way to her bed, while she had allowed her implant to expire. Then, after discovering that he had left her with more than a few hazy memories and a deep sense of regret, she had been too ashamed to take action until it was too late.
Now... was not the time for the same inactions of the past. Not when the risk of her own personal Sword of Damocles was closer than ever.
The Solahma troops had all left, each seeking a glorious death in battle against the resistance, so there as no one to question her motives as she drew her side-arm and ventured forth into the night.
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