BATTLETECH: EMERALD SWORD

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  A BATTLETECH NOVELLA

  TOM LEVEEN

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  About the Author

  Battletech Glossary

  BattleTech Eras

  The BattleTech Fiction Series

  BattleTech Fiction Ad

  CHAPTER

  ONE

  SAKER TRAINING CENTER GROUNDS

  IRONHOLD CITY

  IRONHOLD

  CLAN HOMEWORLDS

  10 APRIL 2978

  The eight surviving members of Douglas’ sibling company marched all the way from their training center to the nearest body of water, 20 kilometers away, carrying their rucks and full battle load. Cadet rucks hadn’t been updated in centuries, and all 40 kilos dug incessantly into their broad shoulders. This was precisely as their trainers, the Falconers, wanted it. All pain, all the time, until the time of their Trial of Position, where they’d graduate to become warriors for the Jade Falcon Clan.

  Or—statistically—die.

  The Falconers didn’t have a preference. The Clan needed only warriors who could win.

  “Halt,” Falconer Bibek ordered when the sibko reached the edge of the beach. His thick, black eyebrows seemed to run ear-to-ear, and perpetually shaded the Falconer’s brown eyes as he glared at the assembled cadets.

  His baritone voice reminded Douglas of the dull thrum of autocannon fire. Douglas did not fear the older man, who stood a full 2.5 meters tall, but he did fear what the Falconer could do: end Douglas’ shot at being a Jade Falcon Warrior.

  The sibko stopped instantly, facing the water that lapped at their bare feet. The darkness was complete, with only starlight to see by. Other training programs used chemical light sticks to keep track of the trainees. At Saker, there were no such safety protocols. If someone got lost, drowned, or ran away in the dark, so much the better. They were unneeded by the Clan.

  Falconer Bibek shouted to be heard over the crashing waves. “Stack your weapons and enter the water!”

  All eight of the sibkin formed a pyramid of their rifles, the stocks in the sand and muzzles touching, before linking their elbows like a chain and walking dutifully into the water. Upon reaching waist height—a full meter for these giants of the Clans, known as Elementals—Falconer Bibek ordered them to sit.

  The group sat in the water as a unit, silent. They had not said a word in hours.

  Douglas knew from his studies that the temperature would have killed an Inner Sphere MechWarrior in minutes. One degree colder, the waves might freeze in place. These eight were bred in “iron wombs” for size, strength, and ability. They would stay until ordered out or until they froze to death. Such was their training. Such was their breeding.

  Such was their loyalty to Clan Jade Falcon.

  “All right, my filthy little eyasses!” Falconer Bibek shouted over the noise of the surf. “What is my favorite thing to hear?”

  “I will win or I will fall!” the Elementals shouted in unison.

  “Again.”

  “I WILL WIN OR I WILL FALL!”

  “Outstanding, my little babies. Maybe one or two of you will even survive your Trial. Cadet Douglas?”

  “Cadet Douglas is present, Falconer!”

  During this final phase of their training, cadets could not refer to themselves in the first person when responding to the instructor cadre. Ruefully, Douglas remembered it had taken him longer than the rest of his cohort to catch on to this rule, frequently starting statements with “I,” and getting roundly clouted for it. Now, months after their arrival, the cadre still delighted in picking on him to see if he’d learned his lesson.

  He had, more or less.

  Sometimes it took Douglas a few tries to really grasp a concept.

  “Are you going to be alive after your Trial, Cadet Douglas?” Bibek wondered aloud for all to hear.

  “Falconer, Cadet Douglas will be wherever he is ordered to be!”

  Falconer Bibek laughed, triggering similar responses from the other three Falconers on tonight’s training detail. The Falconer cadre was winners. Warriors. Survivors. All four would rather be out on the endless battlefield, fighting in their battle armor, but the Clan had moved them here to be trainers. Disappointed in leaving the field of battle, they took out any lingering frustrations on their trainees.

  “How about you, Cadet Burna? Do you think you will survive your Trial?”

  Burna, his bald, pale head shining beneath the starlight, was the biggest and smartest of the remaining sibkin. If Clan Jade Falcon had any use of money, the smart money would be on Burna to not only finish his Trial and become a Warrior, but possibly attain a higher rank in the process.

  Burna was also the most expressive of them. Even as near-freezing water smashed into his broad nose and wide forehead, he smiled. “Cadet Burna will graduate a Star Commander, Falconer Bibek!”

  The other seven in their sibko might have groaned if they weren’t so used to Burna’s bombast. They knew well how the cadre responded to boasts, and none of them would be spared. Not even this close to their Trial, in roughly a month’s time.

  Douglas wished sometimes for Burna to adopt a more humble attitude in the face of their instruction, but he also admired the other cadet. They all did. Based on his training record thus far, Burna’s boast of becoming a Star Commander was not out of the realm of possibility.

  “Well, well, well!” Bibek jeered, his voice carrying readily over the waves. “We have a Bloodnamed Galaxy Colonel here with us tonight. Is that what you are, Cadet Burna?”

  Please let it go, Douglas thought as his body shivered uncontrollably. Just let it go, Burna.

  “Cadet Burna is only a cadet at this time, Falconer!” Burna shouted, just as another bone-chilling wave slapped into the group. His grin never left his face.

  Inwardly, Douglas sighed with relief. Burna’s response was just enough of a backpedal to keep the cadre from utterly wrecking them on the grinder PT deck.

  The instructors would crush them anyway, but maybe not to the death. Rumor around the center was that the falconers eased up a bit in the last few weeks of training, so the cadets could be at their full strength for the trials. Douglas did not dare let himself believe it. The rumor could be another trick sown by the cadre themselves, for all any of his sibko knew.

  He did not know how much longer their training would last tonight, but they were certainly going to be rucking back to their bunks, at minimum. If Burna could just keep his mouth shut for a while, maybe they would even get more than a couple hours of sleep.

  Or recreation, Douglas thought, sparing his sibkin Worthy a glance.

  Worthy, like the rest of his sibling company, was related to him by genes, which was not quite the same as being related by blood. They were siblings on a genetic level, and coupling among the group was common. The last few years, Douglas and Worthy had discovered a preference for one another—which was not to say they were in any other relationship outside of sibkin. They attended to the needs of their enormous nineteen-year-old bodies and little else. The practice of coupling between sibkin was precisely that: a practice, nothing more. It served a physical, functional purpose just as much as the Falconers’ endless pushups.

  It is more enjoyable, though, Douglas thought, and let himself smile in the face of another crashing wave that stole his breath away.

  A shame, then, that history stood against either of them surviving the Trial.

  Douglas’ smile disappeared.

  “Out of the water!” Bibek ordered. “Start marching back to the center, babies.”

  The night had only just begun.

  Shivering—quaking, really, was more like it—the group raced for their rifles, clearing them for safety as the Falconers bellowed invectives into their faces. Douglas was the last one ready, and received a brief smoke session in the sand while his sibkin stood at attention in a row.

  Wet and sandy, Douglas cranked out pushups, flutter kicks, mountain climbers, burpees, all manner of physical punishments proven by eons of human evolution to harden the body and strengthen the mind. Even under this stress and the Falconers’ steady streams of invective, Douglas could not help thinking maybe he had the better deal: he was warming up, while his sibkin could only stand and shiver. They might make him pay for that later.

  When Bibek decided he had had enough, he released Douglas to get back into line. Burna, naturally, was at the front, and set off after Falconer Bibek, who set a brisk pace—easy to do without a rucksack on.

  No one spoke, per protocol. On a ruck like this, the assumption was to be on patrol in enemy territory, ready for anything. Douglas kept his eyes on Worthy, who marched in front of him, and let himself focus on watching her body move in the darkness.

  Is that love I am feeling? Burna thought as they marched. He replied to himself instantly: Certainly not! We are Elementals and beyond such weakness, quiaff?

  Desire then? No, not desire; a warrior’s only desire was for victory and the honor of Clan Jade Falcon.

  Worthy, as if reading his mind, spared a brief glance back at him over he
r shoulder, and an even briefer grin.

  Affection, perhaps, Douglas thought, smothering his own reflexive smile by clamping his teeth tightly. Affection. As one has for one sibkin over another. Yes, that’s—

  An hour into the march, his thoughts were ended by an explosion.

  CHAPTER

  TWO

  SAKER TRAINING CENTER GROUNDS

  IRONHOLD CITY

  IRONHOLD

  CLAN HOMEWORLDS

  10 APRIL 2978

  The first explosion sounded to their right as the cadets neared a left-hand bend in the path. Approximately 30 meters from their position, an orange fireball rocketed 20 meters into the night sky. Its concussive blast stopped the rucking sibko in their tracks. A second explosion followed a little further ahead, lighting up the shocked trainees. Douglas winced at the sudden sound and light.

  “Contact!” Falconer Bibek cried. “Return fire!”

  Seven of the Elementals dropped instantly to the ground, rifles in hand. Douglas dropped a moment later as he realized this was another cadre evolution. The explosions were rigorously overseen for relative safety, designed to give cadets the shock and tremor of such wartime sounds without posing fatal danger.

  Douglas swore internally as he hit the dirt path, knowing he was too late once again. The cadre saw he was last to drop, and swarmed him.

  “Oh, that is just stellar, Cadet Douglas! Leave your head up high so your enemy can shoot it off!”

  “Why are you even here, Douglas? Stand up and walk away now, it will save the lives of your sibkin!”

  “You are a complete malfunction, Cadet Douglas! Get your head down!”

  “You are by a wide margin the most worthless Elemental to ever bear that honored name, quiaff?”

  And so on.

  Douglas should have been used to the added attention and abuse by now. He was not. The rest of his sibkin paid no attention to the ministering of the cadre, electing instead to low crawl toward the explosion, scanning for automated targets to appear and fire low-powered lasers at them.

  Douglas caught up as best he could while maintaining his crawl. His sibkin fired their weapons as the portable pop-up targets sprang to life in the tall grass.

  Wait, Douglas thought, struggling to draw a bead on a target before one of his sibko destroyed it. Something is wrong, something…

  “Burna!” he shouted over the rifle fire. “It is an ambush!”

  Burna fired two rounds from his heavy conventional rifle. Two targets blew apart. He laughed as he answered, “Yes, I know that, Douglas.”

  “No, I mean, if it is an ambush, then we—”

  “Shut up and fire!” Burna ordered, though he held no higher rank.

  Douglas spared a look over his shoulder at the opposite side of the path, where the same tall grasses grew. Turning his head left, he saw the sibko had been approaching a bend in the road.

  If it is an ambush, Douglas thought, the enemy would not line only one side of the road. This is a textbook kill zone, Burna. Up ahead at the bend, they will—

  At the kind, gentle, profanity-laced urging of an instructor, Douglas faced his known targets and continued shooting.

  Moments later, something hot tore into his left ribcage. Douglas grunted, instantly recognizing the pain from a low-power laser blast. The laser hurt badly, but couldn’t kill; it was powered just enough to prove its point.

  Douglas spun on his belly, searching for the opponent, shouting, “Contact, nine!”

  The sibko was quick to respond as they had been trained, but not quick enough. More blasts from pop-up enemies—precisely at the bend in the path—shredded the entire sibko.

  “On your feet,” Falconer Bibek said as the combat ended.

  The Elementals stood. Douglas saw his own anger and shame in each of his sibkin’s eyes, even in the dark.

  Falconer Bibek slowly paced among the cadets, eyeing each one in turn before speaking.

  “If this had been an actual ambush, you would all be dead, and your mission a failure. Your Trial of Position is coming soon, and this is how prepared you are. Every one of you walked into a simple ambush and the enemy handed you your skins—”

  “Falconer Bibek, we were rucking, not patrolling—” Burna dared.

  He paid for the interruption with not one, but two of Bibek’s mighty fists smashing into his gut. Burna coughed and doubled over, returning to attention as soon as he was physically able.

  “Shut up, cadet,” Bibek said quietly.

  When no one made another sound, the Falconer resumed his walk among them.

  “You do not always get to choose the time and place of the battle. You are cold? The enemy does not care. You are tired? The enemy does not care. You were rucking instead of patrolling? The enemy does not care.”

  Bibek spat with disgust. “Now, one of you at least had the right idea, but utterly failed to warn his unit, resulting in your untimely deaths and a waste of Clan resources.”

  Bibek timed his walk to stop in front of the group. Douglas kept his gaze aimed the Falconer’s forehead. Cadets did not look Falconers in the eye.

  “You had better get yourselves squared away before this Trial, my pathetic, filthy babies, if you have any desire to serve your people. If you do not, drop your ruck now and walk right off this facility.”

  No one moved.

  “Then resume your march. Go.”

  The sibkin situated themselves and walked.

  Douglas was in the rear of the line again. Falconer Bibek fell into step alongside him.

  “Cadet Douglas, upon putting away your ruck and your weapon in your barrack, you will immediately report to my office.”

  “Cadet Douglas understands the order,” Douglas said.

  Bibek moved away to correct the pace of another sibkin, Fraser. When the cadre appeared to not be looking, Worthy gave Douglas the briefest glance of sympathy. Her wet black hair, close-cropped, glimmered in the dark.

  Douglas risked the barest nod of thanks in return, but spent the rest of march wondering if Bibek’s order meant he was finally being kicked out. The more he tried not to worry about it, the more his brain endlessly circled the topic.

  If I get thrown out, he thought, I will end up as a laborer. Not even a tech, but a laborer. Quite possibly hauling garbage. And that is where I will spend the rest of my life: here on Ironhold, among trash.

  You had better improve and right quick, Cadet.

  The march went on.

  Falconer Bibek’s office might have previously served as a storage closet. The ceiling, thankfully, was tall enough to accommodate Douglas’ height, but the Falconer’s desk nearly touched both parallel walls, and if the two Elementals were to lean in a bit and extend their arms, their hands would easily touch. The room smelled of sweat and scorched metal.

  “Stand at ease, Cadet,” Bibek said after Douglas closed the door and announced himself. “I will only have this conversation once with you, quiaff?”

  “Aff, Falconer Bibek.”

  “Good. Quit now.”

  Douglas blinked. His concern that he’d guessed Bibek’s intent made him forget his place. “What? The Trial is in four weeks, we have worked our entire lives for that moment.” He winced, and tried again, “I mean…this Cadet means…”

  Bibek, for the only time since Douglas had stepped foot inside the training center, did not physically wreck him for his failure to abide by protocol.

  “Four weeks,” Bibek echoed. “Yet you know that you will fall.”

  “This cadet does not know that, Falconer Bibek.”

  “You knew that little drill tonight on the ruck march was an ambush. You knew there would likely be a secondary attack, yet you did not act. I am not going to ask you why, because I do not care. That was a grievous failure, and one that leads me to believe you will not survive your Trial.”

  Douglas resisted the urge to defend himself. It would do no good. If Burna had been paying attention, he would have ordered the cadets into a better defensive position.