Battletech a question of.., p.1
BattleTech: A Question of Survival, page 1
A QUESTION OF SURVIVAL
A BATTLETECH NOVEL
BATTLETECH
BOOK 112
BRYAN YOUNG
CONTENTS
The Inner Sphere: 3151
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Notable BattleMechs
More Battletech Fiction by Bryan Young
Battletech Glossary
BattleTech Eras
The BattleTech Fiction Series
This is for those who carry on, for the activists
and radicals who, despite the odds,
do the work of making the world a better place.
THE INNER SPHERE: 3151
It’s been more than a thousand years since humankind took flight from Terra and traversed the stars. On their sojourn, they colonized thousands of planets across a region of space known as the Inner Sphere. As with any expansion of territory, war and strife followed. Various factions consolidated into interstellar empires known as Great Houses. They vied for overall control, going to war with each other, fighting off and on for centuries. The chief weapon of these wars were BattleMechs, giant walking tanks with more firepower than a small army.
The Dark Age—brought on in 3132 by the collapse of the hyperpulse generator network, a system that allowed quick communication across occupied space—saw open conflicts erupt across the Inner Sphere. Terra and its surrounding systems had been governed by the Republic of the Sphere; a beleaguered nation founded by the charismatic Devlin Stone. The armies of the Great Houses, free-fighting mercenaries, and warmongering Clans all sought to seize control of Terra.
The Clans are descendants of the Star League Defense Force, the largest military force in human history, which left the Inner Sphere under the leadership of SLDF Commanding General Aleksandr Kerensky in 2784. After a fierce civil war broke out, far from the Inner Sphere, Kerensky’s son Nicholas formed his loyalists into the twenty Clans, creating the brutal caste system and warrior mentality that they’re now so well known for. In the year 3049, the Clans returned to the Inner Sphere with superior firepower and technology, ready to liberate Terra and serve as the defenders of humanity once more.
But thanks to the machinations of ComStar and the valiant forces of the Inner Sphere, the Clan invasion was halted before reaching Terra.
The Clans remained in the Inner Sphere for the next century, squabbling among each other until they could make a play for Terra. The prevailing Clan would become the ilClan, taking charge of all the Clans. The forces of the Inner Sphere didn’t rest during this time; the Republic sealed off Terra and several neighboring systems behind the “Fortress Wall,” impenetrable to hyperspace travel.
Clan Ghost Bear spent this time integrating into the Free Rasalhague Republic, blending the way of the Clans with the way of the Inner Sphere and eventually forming the Rasalhague Dominion, where the Clan and native-born Rasalhagians live together, largely in harmony and equal status.
Clan Wolf, on the other hand, built up forces and pressed into the Inner Sphere, bent on capturing Terra. Clan Jade Falcon did much the same, but with a much more destructive bloodlust.
In 3151, Khan Alaric Ward of Clan Wolf discovered a way through the Fortress Wall and raced to Terra, with Khan Malvina Hazen of Clan Jade Falcon close behind. Both Clans emptied the worlds of their Inner Sphere Occupation Zones, leaving only token garrison forces, solahma troops past their prime, and sibkos full of children in training.
On Terra, the historic rivalry between the Wolves and the Jade Falcons played out as they decimated the forces of the Republic of the Sphere, claiming Terra for the Clans. The two Clans then fought a Trial of Possession for the right to proclaim themselves the ilClan. Clan Wolf won, practically destroying the Jade Falcons. Malvina Hazen was killed, and Alaric Ward declared himself both the ilKhan and the First Lord of a reborn Star League.
The remaining Clans must decide how they will react. Will they bend the knee to the new ilClan? Or will they resist? The few Jade Falcons remaining in the Occupation Zone have received no word of the fate of their leaders from Terra, and scrabble to keep their dominions together.
For Clan Ghost Bear, the decision is much more difficult, as they’re entrenched in the civilian system of government and can’t simply decide to follow—or ignore—the new First Lord. Before the Clans can decide, they must pay their respects to the ilKhan of the ilClan, Alaric Ward of Clan Wolf…
“When there is no enemy within, the enemies outside cannot hurt you.”
—Old Terran Proverb
PROLOGUE
KERENSKY SPACEPORT
UNITY CITY, PUGET SOUND
NORTH AMERICA
TERRA
23 MAY 3151
Dalia Bekker had seen a lot in her twenty-five years as the Khan of Clan Ghost Bear. She’d seen a lot more in her seventy years of life, but none of it had prepared her for the feeling of setting foot on Terra for the first time when the Clans controlled it. Those first steps brought a feeling of exhilaration and a dizziness, too. As though the history of the place and the importance of her walking on the planet could crush her with its gravitas.
The spring air was crisp, and the coast brought with it the smell of the sea and the pine scent of the Pacific Northwest. During her descent, she’d surveyed the damage done to the planet during the Battle of Terra over the previous five months and wished her visit was happening under better circumstances. Still, she had to hand it to Clan Wolf: they’d done it, even if she would have preferred to leave Terra as it was, and see all the Clans integrate into their areas as effectively as Clan Ghost Bear had.
She walked along the landing platform toward the spaceport proper, her saKhan Roy Jorgensson in tow.
It was time they paid their respects.
Before they left for Terra, Bekker had informed Prince Miraborg of the situation and the need for them to go. Being a Ghost Bear as well as the fourth elected Prince in charge of the Rasalhague Dominion, he understood what was at stake and why Bekker and Jorgensson had to do this.
Duty.
And it was duty that sent them walking out to greet Alaric Ward, Khan of Clan Wolf, newly ascended ilKhan of the Clans, and soon to be self-appointed First Lord of the Star League reborn.
Alaric Ward looked every bit of his forty years, practically a child in Bekker’s eyes, but a warrior nonetheless. And one with the grit and skill to accomplish what she never thought would be possible while the Fortress Wall stood. The sun made a shadow of the crescent scar on Ward's left eye, giving him a menacing look that belied the smile he greeted them with. His long blond hair had been pulled back into a neat ponytail, and he wore a new uniform that told her he’d chosen it to both reflect the Star League uniforms of old, but with a blend of Wolfish sensibility. Olive green fabric spread across his well-muscled torso, edged with black trim that reached high up onto his neck from his shoulders. Ward bore the symbol of the Star League rather than that of Clan Wolf, leaving that designation to the pins on his collar. To Bekker, this felt like a preview of his intentions.
Bekker did not return his smile.
“Khan Dalia Bekker and saKhan Roy Jorgensson of Clan Ghost Bear,” Ward said, stretching his arms wide. “It is my pleasure to welcome you to Terra.”
“Congratulations,” Bekker said, nodding her head curtly.
“Congratulations, indeed,” Jorgensson said behind her.
For both of them, this was a matter of honor, not necessarily one of joy.
“How are things in the Ghost Bear Dominion?” Alaric asked, clearly knowing full well what he was asking.
“Rasalhague is well, ilKhan Ward.”
“Splendid,” he said, smiling wide. “This victory was one you shared—your Clan’s blood fought and died valiantly on Terra as part of Clan Wolf. Indeed, we would not be standing here if your Bloodnamed brother Ramiel Bekker had not been part of the offensive.”
At the mention of Ramiel Bekker, Ward grew somber, stiffening like a board, but Khan Bekker couldn’t tell if the emotion was genuine or an act. Everything about Ward felt phony to her.
“Is he here?” Jorgensson asked. “I would like to pay my respects.”
“Alas, the WarBear died like a true warrior this past March.” Ward’s voice cracked as he spoke. More affectation? Or genuine loss? She couldn’t say. “It feels like a lifetime ago. We’ve accomplished so much since then, and have so much more to do.”
“No doubt,” Khan Bekker said, remembering the younger Bekker fondly from their few interactions. If only the Ghost Bears had been able to keep him… “I am saddened to hear of the loss of the great WarBear. Whether bearing the mark of Bear or Wolf, he was Ghost Bear family and a true Clan Warrior, the like of which the Inner Sphere had never known.”
“Seyla,” the ilKhan said softly, a sliver of sincerity shining through the clouds of his affectations.
They stood there in the somber moment for what felt like an eternity.
Regardless of the folly of destruction and political machinations that had driven the Clans to Terra and cost Ramiel Bekker his life, they were here now, and all would do their duty.
The Ghost Bear Khan took in a deep breath and broke the silence with polite reservation. “You likely have much to do. We do not wish to keep you.”
“Indeed, there are many arrangements to be made, and I am glad you will be here for the ceremony. Afterward, we will talk and make plans.”
“As you please, ilKhan, we would not miss the opportunity.”
“My thanks.” The ilKhan gripped Bekker on the shoulder and nodded warmly to her, then he was gone, off to greet another Khan or sanction more political machinations. Whatever it was, Bekker wasn’t sure she trusted him, all things being equal and him being a Wolf, after all. Ghost Bears were slow to change—and even slower to let go of ancient, not-named grudges.
As soon as the ilKhan was out of earshot and they were on their way to their appointed quarters, Jorgensson spoke. “He is not at all like I imagined him.”
“And how did you imagine him?”
“A difficult question.”
“I refuse to bear a saKhan who is afraid of difficult questions.”
“I imagined him bigger somehow. Larger than life. And smarter, perhaps?”
Khan Bekker allowed herself a slight smile. “Kerensky help us all if he was.”
“And how do you think he will react to our predicament?”
“I doubt he will be pleased, but who knows with a man as driven as Alaric Ward. We have our own oaths to keep, however, and only time will tell.”
* * *
THE CITADEL
UNITY CITY, PUGET SOUND
NORTH AMERICA
TERRA
25 MAY 3151
* * *
The hospitality of Clan Wolf had not lacked whatsoever. Khan Dalia Bekker and saKhan Roy Jorgensson had luxurious accommodations built originally for tourists that were almost embarrassing for Clan warriors, and they wanted for nothing. Food came regularly, every meal a feast. All they had to sit through was the ceremony that made Alaric Ward the First Lord of the Star League.
The ceremony itself was full of pomp and circumstance, and designed to let all of the attending Clan Khans know how important Ward felt his position was. To Dalia Bekker’s eyes, he looked somehow hurt during the ceremony. Like the weight of a thousand worlds bore down on his shoulders, and he’d thought himself Atlas, but found he’d been Sisyphus all along. His face stayed grim through the entire ritual, as though he could power his way into the gravitas he felt it required.
She had to admit, the Court of the Star League on Terra—an ornate complex that was part sprawling revivalist government facility and part museum of Star League history—was enough to feel impressive on its own, and his pageant was designed to add to its stone carved solemnity.
But it was all just a show.
Why else wait to meet with the Khans until they’d witnessed his ascent?
“We have been summoned,” her saKhan told her afterward.
“Of course we have. He plays politics with a flair for the dramatic, but never forget it is just politics.”
“That certainly appears to be the case.”
And with that, they left.
The meeting room was furnished as decadently as the rooms the ilKhan had assigned the Ghost Bear Khans. A wide table of polished cherry wood sat in the center. High-backed chairs surrounded it. Waiting for the ilKhan, Bekker found time to stand at the wall, staring at the tapestry work. The scene was familiar to Bekker, and a chill ran across her back.
“What is it?” Jorgensson asked.
Bekker waved a hand at the tapestry her saKhan had not paid a bit of attention to. “This is a rendering of the Annihilation of the Not-Named Clan.”
Jorgensson’s brow furrowed. “We do not even speak their names. Why would there be a tapestry of it here?”
“Made special. For our benefit.” Bekker ran her fingers along the artistic draping and found it smooth, feeling new. It depicted a Timber Wolf destroying a Conjurer with ruby-colored lasers on a blackened landscape with the first blue rays of dawn behind them. It didn’t matter how anachronistic it was; the coloring on the Conjurer was unmistakable. Knowing the walls had ears, she did not say to her saKhan that it was meant to throw them off balance and remind them of their place. Ideally, he had come to the same conclusion already.
Hundreds of years prior, the Ghost Bears had sought the honor of destroying the Not-Named Clan and participated in that Trial of Annihilation with the other Clans. When a Ghost Bear Star Captain had spotted a sibko of Not-Named children evading the Wolves, the Bear acted out of pity and let them escape. This shame had been passed down for centuries.
The tapestry was a reminder of their rivalry. Of their position.
Bekker smiled again. It fazed her not a bit. “No deed be left undone, they shall not escape the Bear again,” she said quietly, quoting the Oath of Acceptance.
The tapestry did not matter. If Alaric Ward wanted to broach the taboo and have his fun, he was ilKhan now and had won Terra, what was it to her? She had a duty to the Rasalhague Dominion and an oath to the Ghost Bears to uphold.
“Khan Bekker, saKhan Jorgensson,” came a voice at the door. The ilKhan, Alaric Ward, was dressed in his new uniform of the First Lord, though with an added floor-length cape, black and flowing. “I am so glad to see you both.”
Bekker turned from the tapestry, hands folded neatly behind her back. She bowed politely. “IlKhan.”
Jorgensson did likewise until the ilKhan bid them to sit.
“I am sure you have many things to tend to in the Dominion, and I do not wish to keep you long.”
“Of course, my ilKhan,” Bekker said.
“Then you feel no need to dispute my position?” Alaric said.
Bekker cocked her head slightly. “We sit on Terra, which you conquered. Does that not make you ilKhan?”
“I am glad we speak the same language. I will want a complete accounting of the holdings of the Ghost Bears so that we might add the might of the Dominion to the new Star League.”
Now Bekker clasped her hands in front of her on the shining table, doing her best to hide her exasperation. He must know less about the Ghost Bears than I thought. Where to begin, she was not entirely sure.
She cleared her throat. “As you are no doubt aware, ilKhan, the Ghost Bears have become integrated into the Rasalhague Dominion. The two are one, natives of the Dominion and Clan alike. Were it up to me alone to move Bears from our Den into the new Star League, we would do so without hesitation. But I cannot make decisions for Bears or Rasalhague by fiat. I must consult with Prince Miraborg, and we must let the population have a say in the decision.”
Alaric Ward’s face looked chiseled from stone.
Silence permeated the room, as if the ilKhan were waiting for her to change her answer before he would even deign to respond.
“We support you, absolutely,” she added. “If you require the Ghost Bears in an emergency, I have been authorized to pledge our support, but joining the Star League requires a vote.”
