Chapter 2 - Against the Innersphere -
- A Chance to redeem -[]
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Tranquil, Kerensky Cluster
Clan Space
Star Captain Liliana Fürst's eyes snapped open, her chest heaving as she sucked in a lungful of air. The rush of oxygen felt wrong, unnatural, like the world was forcing itself back into her body. Her hand shot to her side, feeling the familiar cold grip of her laser pistol, and her other hand gripped the control stick of her Dire Wolf. She was alive. But how?
Her heart pounded, the sound of her own blood like a roar in her ears. She should have been dead. She was dead. Her last memories were of Huntress burning, of Lootera collapsing around her, of the Spheroid soldiers, those cursed freebirths ripping her cockpit open. The last thing she had felt was the trigger pulling back, the bright flash of her pistol's discharge. She was certain she had seen the end.
So why was she still here?
Liliana's breath came in sharp, ragged bursts as her vision blurred and then sharpened. She was in the cockpit of a Timber Wolf, its status screens flickering to life. Confusion tangled with panic. "The Dire Wolf… where is my Dire Wolf?" she muttered, her voice hoarse, each word feeling like a blade scraping against her throat. She scanned the displays. Timber Wolf configuration readouts. Pulse lasers, missile systems, everything aligned. But it wasn't her Dire Wolf.
Her hands were trembling. She forced them still, squeezing the control stick until her knuckles whitened. "Calm yourself," she hissed. "You are a Smoke Jaguar. You do not panic." But even as she spoke the words, she could feel the truth clawing at the back of her mind, something was very, very wrong. She was supposed to be dead. The memory was vivid, seared into her mind like a brand. She could still feel the impact of the Spheroid soldiers, the heat of the explosions, the taste of blood.
Liliana forced herself to focus. She checked the viewport; it was intact, and beyond it, she saw a training ground one she did not recognize. Snow-covered plains stretched out into the horizon, marked with targets and the distant forms of other 'Mechs. This was not Huntress. This was not Lootera. This was… somewhere else entirely.
"Where am I?" she whispered, a tremor of fear creeping into her voice. "What has happened?"
The Timber Wolf's systems hummed as they activated displays lighting up, showing the diagnostics of a 'Mech' that was fully operational. But the unease only grew. She glanced down at her uniform, expecting the torn, ash-covered cloth of her last moments. Instead, her hands rested on fabric that was clean, new, as if fresh from the quartermaster's supply. Her gauntlets were polished, and the insignia of Clan Smoke Jaguar glimmered, pristine and untouched by battle.
"This is wrong," she growled, the panic clawing up her throat again. "This is not real."
Her fingers flew over the controls, trying to access the comms. The interface was familiar, yet the codes felt foreign under her touch. The systems responded, but the callsign flashing back was not her own. It was an older designation, a kit's identification.
"Neg, this is a mistake," she snarled, hammering the keys. "I am Star Captain Liliana Fürst. Respond!" Static greeted her command, followed by a low hum of power cycling through the Timber Wolf's systems. She bared her teeth in frustration, her eyes scanning every display, every gauge for something that made sense. It felt like she was trapped in a nightmare.
Memories of her final moments flashed before her eyes again, searing hot and vivid. The Spheroids closing in, the hiss of the laser as she fired, the light swallowing her whole. And then nothing. Darkness. Silence. And now, she was here, her heart still beating, her hands still holding the controls of a Clan 'Mech that felt both familiar and alien.
"Why am I alive?" she screamed, slamming a fist against the console. The sound echoed in the cockpit, but no answers came.
As the panic surged, she caught her reflection in the ferroglass viewport. Long, white hair spilled over her shoulders, hair she did not remember growing out. Her eyes, wide and wild, stared back at her. She looked younger, almost like the kit she had been during her Trials. But that was impossible. She had fought as a Star Captain, had led warriors into battle, and had died as one.
"What is this madness?" she whispered, her voice cracking. She grabbed the sides of her head, trying to push the noise and confusion out of her mind. "I died. I know I died. This is not possible."
The cockpit felt smaller, more claustrophobic than any she remembered. She clawed at her restraints, unbuckling them as her breathing quickened. Her heart thundered, and her hands felt cold and numb. Her mind was racing, trying to piece together the fragments of memory that seemed to slip through her fingers like sand. Something was wrong with this place this Timber Wolf, her body, everything.
Suddenly, the comm-link flickered to life, a cold, mechanical voice breaking through the static. <<"Kit Fürst, report your status.">>
She froze, her blood turning to ice. "Kit…?" she repeated, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I am not a kit. I am Star Captain Liliana Fürst!" she shouted into the comms, her voice echoing with fury.
But no response came. Only silence, and the chilling reality of the name she had just heard. She clenched her fists, the weight of the truth pressing down on her. Somehow, she had been dragged back into the past back to a time she thought was gone forever. But why? And how?
Liliana's eyes narrowed, her fear transforming into a cold, seething rage. If this was a trick some false reality, some simulation designed to break her she would not fall to it. She was Smoke Jaguar, bred to endure, bred to dominate. She would tear the truth from this place with her own hands if she had to.
"Fine," she hissed, her eyes burning with fury. "If this is a Trial, then I will pass it, and I will find the ones responsible." She gripped the controls of the Timber Wolf with newfound resolve. "I will hunt them, and they will pay for this deception."
The Timber Wolf's systems came online fully, the HUD lighting up with targeting data and diagnostics. Liliana's hands steadied as she prepared for what was to come, the old instincts from her kit days flooding back. She would fight, she would survive, and she would make the freebirths all of them pay for this insult.
But beneath the fury, the cold knot of fear remained. She had died once. And whatever had brought her back, she knew one truth above all:
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Timber Wolf Heavy OmniMech
Smoke Jaguars never die quietly. Yet as she swallowed her rage, burying it deep beneath the surface. She knew how the Clan worked fury could be useful, but discipline was paramount. She could play the role of a kit if that's what it took to survive and uncover the truth of this madness. She adjusted her posture, sitting up straight in her seat as her fingers moved deftly over the console. She forced her voice into the cold, controlled tone expected of any trueborn warrior.
"This is kit Fürst," she began, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. "Timber Wolf operational. Systems check commencing."
She watched the diagnostic readouts scroll across her HUD. Power levels are stable. Fusion reactor output at optimal capacity. Weapons systems online. Her hands moved swiftly, toggling switches and monitoring each readout as she spoke, her voice a mechanical echo of the reports she had given years ago during her training.
"Fusion reactor reading green across the board no fluctuations detected," she stated, her voice steady, though inside her mind still churned with the impossibility of her situation. "Heat sinks at maximum efficiency; no spikes observed during startup."
Her eyes flicked to the weapons status panel. A familiar set of configurations lit up: two Extended Range Large Lasers, two Medium Pulse Lasers, and twin LRM-20 racks. It was a standard loadout for the Timber Wolf, perfectly balanced for both ranged and close-quarters combat. She knew these systems well she had mastered them in countless battles. And yet, the act of calling out their status felt strangely surreal, as if she were trapped in some bizarre echo of her past.
"Weapons systems fully operational," she continued, checking each in sequence. "All laser capacitors are charged; missile racks show full complement of LRMs." She tapped a button, and the targeting reticle flickered to life on her HUD, calibrating with the targeting computer. "Targeting computers functioning within standard parameters. No calibration errors detected."
Her hands shifted to the diagnostics of the 'Mech's mobility. "Gyro are stable," she confirmed. "Myomer bundles responsive leg actuators functioning at full capacity. No damage to servos or hydraulics. Full range of motion available."
She paused, her fingers hovering over the controls as she forced down the rising tide of questions clawing at her mind. Why was she here? Why was she in a kit's role? What was this nightmare simulation she found herself in?
"Structural integrity reads at one hundred percent. Armor is intact, no breaches detected." She had to fight to keep her tone neutral, her voice clipped and efficient, just as it had been when she was young and eager to prove herself to her trainers and Star Captain. "All systems are functioning at optimal efficiency. Timber Wolf is combat-ready."
The comm-link remained silent for a moment, a crackle of static the only response. Liliana's fingers tightened on the controls, her eyes locked on the displays. If this was some kind of test, some ruse meant to uncover her weakness or break her resolve, she would not give her unseen observers the satisfaction.
Then, the comms crackled back to life, the same cold, detached voice she had heard earlier returning. <<"Kit Fürst, systems check confirmed. Proceed with maneuvering drills.">>
Liliana's jaw clenched. She knew this was not her place, this was not her life. She was a Star Captain, not some kit going through drills. But for now, she had no choice. She had to play along, to find a way through this charade. She would be the perfect kit, and when the truth revealed itself, she would be ready.
"Aff, acknowledged," she responded, the words feeling like poison. "Proceeding with maneuvering drills." Her hands gripped the control sticks, the familiar feel of the Timber Wolf's response giving her a strange sense of comfort. If this was a test, she would pass it. If this was a trap, she would spring it.
Liliana engaged the throttle, and the Timber Wolf responded immediately, the ground beneath her trembling as the 'Mech moved forward. She pushed it through a series of basic maneuvers walking, pivoting, then accelerating into a full sprint. The Timber Wolf's movements were smooth, almost effortless, the myomer muscles flexing beneath the armor plating with the precision of a living creature.
"Timber Wolf responding as expected," she reported, guiding the 'Mech through a tight turn. "All leg actuators within standard response times."
She squeezed the trigger, and twin beams of searing light lanced out from the Timber Wolf's lasers, cutting through the snow and smashing into the distant target. She watched as the LRM launchers cycled, sending a volley of missiles streaking through the sky, their trails arcing before exploding in a shower of flame.
"Weapons systems online. All systems performing at optimal levels," she stated, her voice a cold, emotionless echo of protocol. <<"Maneuvering and weapons drills complete.">>
The comms stayed silent for another moment before the voice responded, devoid of emotion. <<"Acknowledged, kit Fürst. Proceed to waypoint Gamma for further instructions.">>
Liliana's eyes narrowed. "Aff, moving to waypoint Gamma," she confirmed, throttling the Timber Wolf into a run. As she moved, the landscape around her blurred, the snow kicking up in her wake. But her mind was focused, a storm of thoughts swirling beneath her calm exterior. She would continue this charade, play the part expected of her until she found out who or what was behind this illusion. And when she did, she would unleash the fury of a true Jaguar upon them.
As the Timber Wolf thundered across the frozen plains, toward waypoint Gamma, a sense of eerie familiarity washed over her, the snow-covered terrain blurring into the past. She knew these maneuvers knew them like the back of her hand. The feeling of déjà vu intensified, clawing at the edges of her mind. This isn't just a test, she realized. This is a memory.
Tranquil. The name flashed through her mind like a knife, and suddenly, the pieces fell into place. This is Tranquil, 3048. She was fifteen a kits. Her hand tightened on the controls as she recalled the excitement she felt back then, piloting her first Timber Wolf, fresh from the training grounds. This was the very exercise she had run as a kit the exact route, the exact drills. But what followed had not been routine.
She could remember it clearly now. The star of kits had been ordered to complete a combat maneuvering exercise in this very sector, the training ground set up to simulate hostile terrain conditions. Each kit had been given a different role to practice a chance to prove their worth and take one step closer to their Trials of Position. She had been the youngest in the star, eager and hungry for glory, piloting her Timber Wolf with a precision that made the trainers nod in approval.
But then, everything had gone wrong….
Liliana felt the memory crash into her mind like an avalanche, the weight of it making her hands shake on the controls. Her vision flickered, the snow-covered fields of the present overlapping with the blurred image of an older landscape. She remembered moving through the same valleys, navigating the thickening snowfall that blanketed their advance. Her star a group of five kits, all in heavy or assault 'Mechs. Smoke Jaguar tradition dictated that even the young learn to wield the heaviest iron, and her star had been outfitted accordingly. The formation had been impressive for a group of kits: Timber Wolves, Hunchbacks IIC, a Mad Dog, and a single Warhawk piloted by the star leader, kit Star Commander Krysta.
The waypoint indicator blinked on her HUD, and she pushed the Timber Wolf forward, falling in line with the ghostly memories of her star as they had been young warriors, unaware of what lay ahead. The snow, the frost-covered ground, the distant shape of the mountain range it was all the same. It was all exactly the same.
Waypoint Gamma. She clenched her jaw as she remembered joining up with the rest of her star at this exact point. It had been an unremarkable rendezvous. The kits had been focused, disciplined, and unaware that they were straying into territory, territory that the Clan had yet to fully secure.
It had been a fluke a stroke of fate that had led them to stumble upon the renegades. She remembered the shock of seeing the outpost emerge through the snowfall, a low, squat structure hidden against the side of the mountain. They had halted, unsure of what they had discovered. And then, without warning, the Dark Caste 'Mechs had appeared old, scarred machines painted in grim colors, their weapon barrels smoking as they charged forward.
Her hands tightened on the controls as she felt the fear from that day all over again. She had watched, wide-eyed and inexperienced, as the enemy Mechs tore into their formation. The star leader, Krysta, had tried to rally them, her Warhawk's PPCs lighting up the night with crackling energy beams. But the Dark Caste warriors had been numerous, experienced, and desperate. They overwhelmed the kits in a brutal, one-sided ambush.
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Warhawk Assault OmniMech
"Form up!" she had heard Krysta shout over the comms, the panic barely masked in her voice. "Stay in formation, return fire!"
But they had been outmatched. The kits, despite their heavy 'Mechs, were still young, untested. Liliana remembered how she had struggled to keep her Timber Wolf in line, the controls feeling like lead as she fired blindly into the storm of incoming fire. One by one, her comrades fell, their 'Mechs shattered and burning. The Mad Dog had its cockpit punched through by an AC/20 slug; the Hunchback IICs were ripped apart, their thick armor no match for the concentrated fire.
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Mad Dog Heavy OmniMech
Liliana had fought, and she had fought hard, but the panic had gripped her. She could still feel the way her hands had trembled as the Timber Wolf shuddered under the impact of a missile barrage, her HUD screaming with damage reports. She had been alone, her star disintegrating around her, and the Dark Caste had circled in for the kill.
That had been the moment she thought she would die. She had prepared herself for it, gripping the controls and shouting a curse, determined to take at least one of the bastards down with her. But then, like the angels of death descending from the heavens, the 225th Jaguar Battle Trinary had arrived.
She could still see the black silhouettes of their Dire Wolves and Gargoyles, leaping into the fray like predators. The air was filled with the roar of PPCs, the hiss of lasers, and the thunder of autocannons. The Dark Caste 'Mechs, caught off guard by the sudden assault, had been ripped apart. She remembered watching the lead Dark Caste Warhammer explode in a fireball, its legs sheared off by a Gauss slug. The 225th had fought with precision, brutal and efficient, their arrival turning the tide in an instant.
Liliana had felt relief, but also shame. She was supposed to be a Jaguar, not prey waiting to be saved. The realization of her helplessness, her failure, had burned deeper than any wound. She had watched as her saviors obliterated the enemy, their 'Mechs moving with the grace and ferocity she had always aspired to.
Her comm-link crackled back to life, pulling her from the memories. The voice was flat, mechanical, and devoid of sympathy. <<"Kit Fürst, join the rest of the Kit Star at waypoint Gamma. Prepare for further maneuver training.">>
Her eyes snapped back to the present, the cold reality of the training exercise blending with the ghosts of the past. "Aff, moving to position," she replied, her voice steady, but her mind whirling. She would not let history repeat itself. This time, she was prepared.
Liliana pushed the Timber Wolf forward, the snow kicking up in her wake as she saw the familiar shapes of her star coming into view. The Warhawk and Mad Dog heavy, well-armed, and poised for action. The sight of them made her heart pound. They were strong. They were ready.
She maneuvered into formation, her HUD painting each 'Mech in her star with tactical data. The sight of their heavy frames brought back the old feelings of determination, hunger for victory. But this time, she would not allow panic to grip her. She would not fail her Star. If they stumbled into danger again, she would stand at the forefront, a true Jaguar. She would be the one to turn the tide, not the one waiting for salvation.
"Kit Fürst in position," she reported, the chill in her voice matching the icy terrain around her. "Awaiting orders."
But deep down, she knew one thing above all: if they were to face the enemy again, Dark Caste, Spheroids, or something worse, she would not fall. Not this time. This time, she would make the enemy pay dearly for every inch they tried to take. This time, she would prove she was worthy of the blood of Kerensky that flowed through her veins.
Smoke Jaguars do not suffer dishonor twice.