BattleTech: Divided We Fall: BattleTech Novella, #23

By Blaine Lee Pardoe

BROTHERS IN ARMS…

 

At long last, the Clans' campaign for the Inner Sphere is coming to a head. Khan Alaric Wolf is preparing for his biggest moves yet…and is willing to enlist just about anyone who can help him achieve his ultimate goal—the conquest of Terra.

 

To that end, he sends one of his own on a special assignment. Marotta Kerensky is a Clan Wolf warrior unlike any other—the perfect candidate for a mission unlike any other: convince the legendary Wolf's Dragoons to rejoin the Clan they originally came from.

 

But when Marotta reaches the mercenary unit, he finds them quite different from the storied force of a century ago. Times have changed since then, and the Dragoons have as well…or have they? Driven to accomplish his mission at any cost, Marotta allies with a Dragoons officer on a risky gambit that may help him deliver what his Khan wants…or tear Wolf's Dragoons apart forever.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Catalyst Game Labs
• Release date: May 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393954675

Book preview

BattleTech: Divided We Fall

BattleTech: Divided We Fall

Blaine Lee Pardoe

Catalyst Game Labs

Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

About the Author

More BattleTech Fiction by Blaine Lee Pardoe

Dominator Class BattleMech

BattleTech Sheet: Dominator

Battletech Glossary

BattleTech Eras

The BattleTech Fiction Series

To my grandson, Trenton Davis Hester. As well, I would like to include Brent Evans, Philip A. Lee, Ray Arrastia, and John Helfers.

Acknowledgments

I designed the Dominator (version one) and Brent Evans made it purr. Seyla, Brent! Thanks as well to John Helfers who came up with a nice little twist in this book and patiently dealt with my threats to call for a Trial of Grievance against his fact checkers.

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As of late, I have been making a point of including BattleTech’s loyal fans in the fiction I’m writing. For this project, the following are honored—heroes one and all:

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Michael Barber

Timothy Byrne

Felipe Cintron

John Doc Crouch

Tony Deegan

Jared Donner

Wes Frenz

Jürgen Frey

Eric Glocker for Major Ervikar Vilkas

Ed Hatchel

Matthew Hinks

Hannes Hinterberger

Robert BJ Horncastle

Cal Hornstien

Garry Jackson

Alex Kaempen

Kristopher Tyson Koniczek

Andrew Krull

Wayne Ledbetter

John Lubben

Brianne Elizabeth Lyons

Joseph McEachern

Joshua McHugh

Roderick van Noorloos

William C. Pelcham

Lon Porter

Corey Riordan

Nicholas Roche

Andrew Roy

Patrick J. Saul

Sebastian Schröder

Kevin Seibert

Richard Skelton

Andrew Sternglass

Jason Tuttle

Matt Valgardson

Derek Weese

Jason Weiser

Scott Whyte

All are now enshrined, in a unique way, into the canon of the BattleTech universe. Join me in welcoming them, warriors one and all. Seyla!

Prologue

LEDBETTER FLATS

ZOSMA

WOLF EMPIRE

13 APRIL 3149

The Kerensky Bloodright trials had taken the better part of a week to narrow down to the final two candidates. Marotta and Frenz, astride their ’Mechs, were poised on the hot, dry Ledbetter Flats. It had been chosen early as the venue for the final trial; a long dead lakebed that stretched for kilometers in shimmering ripples of the midday sun.

Khan Alaric Ward, from the grandstands, studied the ’Mechs long and hard. Frenz was piloting a Timber Wolf in a Prime configuration, painted a dull flat gray with a set of lightning bolt-like crimson streaks. Traditional, orthodox, uninspiring, like most we’ve seen so far. Frenz had done well in the trials so far with raw aggression. Whether that would prove enough against Marotta was unknown. She has a rage, I have seen that. Is it something she can control? That remains to be seen.

Marotta, on the other hand, was piloting a captured White Raven, and a highly modified one at that. Unlike his enemy, his ’Mech bore a unique paint scheme—white with a hatch-pattern of different shades of gray. Just below the canopy was the brilliant orange lettering that Alaric had to squint at to make out: You have already lost.

When he saw it, the Wolf Khan smiled. Marotta is either arrogant or intentionally provoking her. While paint alone did not win battles, as it was impossible to effectively camouflage a three-story BattleMech, but it could serve as a psychological factor in the fight.

Alaric considered the ugly, primer-gray-and-white BattleMech with a suspicious eye, noting its seemingly top heaviness. Most warriors would not have taken a second-line ’Mech into such a trial, let alone a modified one. Marotta had demonstrated a great deal of craftiness so far in his progress. He is planning something, something I do not see yet. His foe is in an OmniMech, his is a relic of another Clan.

Anastasia Kerensky leaned over to him. I was told Marotta had that BattleMech modified specifically for this round of the trial.

He must have done so with a specific plan in mind, Alaric replied.

"Marotta is old school…a bit of a bookworm. Chance would like him I think, he has an eye for detail and results. He is a perfect candidate for Loremaster someday. He spends much of his time researching mercenary units. Perhaps his choice of the White Raven was nostalgia."

Perhaps not, Alaric replied, raising an eyebrow at Anastasia’s choice of words. Marotta had planned in advance to be one of the final contenders; something the Wolf Khan appreciated.

The Loremaster came out and said the words and made the gestures appropriate for the trial. Alaric had heard them before but listened intently—symbols and traditions were a root of power, his mother had taught him that. We are a people bent on our rituals.

True to her nature, Frenz struck first, with an alpha strike over the hot, dry lakebed. No doubt she is furious over the taunt painted on the White Raven. Marotta barely moved, almost walking indifferently, as if the threat of death didn’t loom over him. The air between the two ’Mechs filled with long-range missiles and crimson beams of the extended-range lasers, all seeming to bear down on Marotta’s White Raven. Explosions quickly engulfed his ’Mech, kicking up dust from the dead lakebed in the process. He seemed to disappear completely as Frenz broke into a run, swinging towards his flank. Alaric saw the waves of heat rising more off her Timber Wolf as she prowled forward, stalking her prey.

From out of the billowing clouds of dust and smoke Marotta’s White Raven emerged, still moving slowly, almost uncaringly. Alaric looked at the pockmarks and melted metal gashes from the lasers on the old Steel Viper ’Mech. It should show more damage. He has up-armored it—probably removing some of his weapons to do so? To Alaric, the trial had just become more interesting.

Frenz fired again, with almost everything, running along his flank and forcing him to turn to keep facing her. Her missiles were like an angry swarm of hornets bearing down on a hapless farmer that had kicked their nest. Her large laser missed him by a good two meters, melting a long black scar along the lakebed floor past his lumbering BattleMech. Her medium extended-range weapons furrowed into his right side and arm. An armor plate blew off his right arm, skidding on the brown, cracked lakebed, raising puffs of dust into the dry air.

Marotta did nothing in response, not even raising his weapons. Instead he juked right and put some distance between him and the stalking Timber Wolf.

He seeks to infuriate her by not firing. He has strategy in play, but she does not see it. Alaric knew Frenz, it would not take much to drive her into a battle-frenzy.

As if to accentuate her point, the speakers in the grandstands relayed her taunt. "Marotta, you krieging bastige, fight me like a warrior!"

Marotta said nothing in response to her curse. It would only infuriate her more to ignore her outburst. Frenz fired her lasers again, followed by one rack of her long-range missiles. Her choice indicated that she was clearly fighting the heat her ’Mech was building up. Ripples of hot air rose off of her missile racks, and Alaric saw her gait slow, if just by a step or two.

Marotta’s ’Mech bore a multitude of smoking black crater marks from missile impacts. The White Raven bore the scars of laser hits too, several melted red-hot gashes slashed across its squat torso. Despite the raw damage he had suffered, he still lumbered on almost casually. Alaric noted he had stopped putting distance between them, and was starting to close on Frenz. She must notice it as well.

The Timber Wolf fired another salvo of laser fire, just her large ones this time. Both shots hit his leg armor, spraying molten metal into the air and leaving smoking holes. The heat of the afternoon sun, combined with the constant running and firing, were beginning to take a toll. Alaric knew heat was just as deadly a force for a warrior to deal with as gravity in battle. Frenz’s trotting Timber Wolf had slowed to a forced walk.

Marotta closed with her, then opened up with one of his large pulse lasers, meticulously aimed. The emerald flashes of energy hit her ’Mech’s right arm, searing holes in the armor there. Why is he holding back? The White Raven usually has an array of weapons—what other modifications has he made? Perhaps a smaller fusion reactor, trading that for even more armor?

Marotta closed more and fired a surprise weapon, a short-range missile launcher. Its hidden door on the right torso dropped open, and a spread of missiles slammed into the Timber Wolf’s legs. The explosions were not what was expected. They were not sharp blasts, but muffled whomps! Flames bloomed on the OmniMech’s thighs, and Alaric understood. Inferno rounds.

Frenz stepped backward as Marotta closed the distance on her with a rigid walk. He fired another salvo of inferno missiles into her lower torso. The gelled warheads added to the flames. Parts of the Timber Wolf were starting to glow red from the heat. Marotta understood how she fought, and is turning it against her. How did he anticipate that she would be in the final round of the trial?

She fired both racks of long-range missiles, a foolish gesture given her heat levels, but Frenz was displaying a hint of panic. A third of the missiles missed entirely, blowing light brown dust up from the parched lakebed floor. The rest riddled the White Raven’s squat torso, ripping away enough armor to expose the myomer bundles underneath.

Still Marotta drew closer and unleashed something new—a pair of flamers. The large flamethrowers filled the air between the ’Mechs with twin jets of orange and crimson fire that obscured Frenz’s cockpit. For a millisecond, Alaric thought Marotta was going to charge the overheated Timber Wolf. Instead, the White Raven’s jump jets fired, and it rose into the air. Alaric rose from his seat as well, mesmerized by the trial.

Marotta angled his flight path over the now stationary Timber Wolf and dropped straight down, killing his jets and letting the 75 tons of mass do its worst. One leg hit the arm of the ’Mech, the other hit the cockpit and upper torso. Even at the distance of the grandstands, Alaric and the other Clan Wolf spectators heard the grinding and moaning of metal and the ground-shaking thud as both ’Mechs dropped.

The Timber Wolf went down hard on its right side, twisting the damaged arm enough to break it off at the elbow. Sparks flew from the connections, barely visible through the kicked-up dust and smoke. Armor plates crumpled under the weight of the ’Mechs smashing into the lakebed, their metallic moans filling the air.

The White Raven staggered backward like a drunk for two wobbly steps before Marotta managed to steady its stance. His own legs’ armor was a twisted mess from the attack. His right hand was savaged beyond recognition, twisted upward. As Marotta swayed and got his balance, Alaric watched, and was impressed. He knew the skill it took to remain standing after a death from above.

Frenz rolled her flaming-hot Timber Wolf over and tried to rise, but the loss of the arm made it hard for her keep balanced. Instead she got to her knees, then fell again, grinding more armor in the process. As if accentuating his advantage, Marotta unleashed another spray of flame on his prone foe. Her missile ammunition cooked off with a resounding whomp; and the blast vented out the side, further twisting her on the ground. Alaric watched from afar. Heat—that is what he is doing, he has got her roasting. The blazes from the flamers and inferno rounds washed over her ’Mech, blackening it, making several spots glow red.

She blasted back with her large laser, searing a scar on his right side, sending a splatter of molten metal into the air. Her LRMs in her remaining rack fired, mostly out of desperation, but only a handful found their mark. Marotta unleashed another wave of infernos, followed with a constant stream from the flamers. Wavering ripples of heat rose into the air around her OmniMech. It was her enemy as much as Marotta as she struggled to rise. Her weapons fire only adds to her problem now. No doubt her frustration is also affecting her piloting as well.

Marotta moved his White Raven into position about 15 meters from her roasting OmniMech. Power down, Frenz, it is over, his voice stated firmly from the grandstand speaker. He aimed his flamer and short-range missile rack at her ’Mech, firing another salvo and washing her cockpit with the flamer—just to be sure.

You have not fought with honor, she barked, flailing her ’Mech more in an effort to stand, but it was a failed effort. Her stumble only made matters worse, crunching more armor plating in the roaring flames.

Neg, Marotta said calmly, his voice echoing in the grandstands. Your words are those of a frustrated foe. This was won fairly. You simply did not adapt to the situation. The heat from the lakebed and your own aggression were your downfall more than me.

Frenz growled in response. Blast you, Marotta. I yield.

"You will call me Marotta Kerensky going forward, he replied. That was yet another mistake you made today."

A cheer rose from the Clan Wolf warriors. A few minutes later, Alaric watched Marotta climb down the spindly leg of the White Raven and walk toward the grandstand. The Wolf Khan studied the warrior carefully. His bald head shimmered as he removed his neurohelmet and he basked in the applause from the grandstands.

If we are to take Terra, we will need warriors like him…warriors who think. Alaric made a mental note to get to know Marotta Kerensky better.

1

ENCLAVE HALL

SOUTHERN MOPELIA ISLAND

NEW EARTH

WOLF EMPIRE

6 NOVEMBER 3150

Marotta Kerensky stood in the antechamber of the large meeting hall and saw a small group emerge from the great hall. One was a massive Elemental, but unlike any he had ever seen. This one was old—ancient, in fact—wearing an old-style Republic of the Sphere uniform devoid of insignia. Far beyond solahma, that was the only phrase that seemed to apply. The wrinkles on his face were older than Kerensky. He moved with a limp. In our caste and profession, such age indicates a warrior that is not to be trifled with. There were no antique Elementals, because battle took care of that. For one to have survived that long speaks volumes. There is a story in that warrior’s life.

New Earth had fallen without a shot being fired. Marotta did not know the details, but rumors abounded that the Fidelis had surrendered the planet to Alaric. Kerensky knew the unit well, but not their true origins. That was a secret that even the Watch had not penetrated. They are

Reviews for BattleTech

[Michael Orabona · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Liked this book. Anything that covers the Wolf Dragoons is great to see and read.