Chapter 3 - Against the Innersphere -
- Repeat of Old -[]
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Tranquil, Kerensky Cluster
Clan Space
Liliana settled into position within her Timber Wolf, her eyes sweeping over the formation of 'Mechs ahead of her. five in total-the remnants of the Fürst Sibko. They stood tall, heavy machines outlined against the cold, desolate horizon of Tranquil, each one a symbol of Smoke Jaguar's brutal winnowing process. Fifteen years had whittled their numbers down from over three hundred Kits to this. Twenty warriors, hardened, ruthless, shaped by unending trials and a blood-soaked history and now soon it will be reduced to 16.
Yet, as Liliana glanced at each one, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were not truly there. They were ghosts.
Her gaze fell on Krysta's Warhawk, standing tall and proud at the head of the formation. Krysta, her rival. Her equal. Sometimes, in her more vulnerable moments, she had even considered her a friend, though such concepts were dangerous within the Clan structure. Friendship was weakness, and weakness had no place among Smoke Jaguars. Their rivalry, however, had been something else-something that had driven Liliana forward. It had been a competition that defined her, a challenge to prove that she could surpass Krysta, take the mantle of Star Commander, and lead their Star to glory.
But Krysta was dead, and with her, all of them. Every single one of the Kits in her star-those who had been forged in the same crucible of trials and combat-were gone, consumed by the brutality of the Dark Caste ambush years ago. They had been slaughtered. Liliana had survived only by chance, not by skill, and that haunted her.
A hiss of static over the comms pulled her from her thoughts.
<<"Kit Fürst, hold formation,">> came the cold, detached voice of their trainer. <<"Krysta will lead the maneuver.">>
Of course. Krysta always led. She was the first to score a perfect kill during their early combat trials, the first to gain the respect of the trainers. Liliana had come close, but never close enough. It stung, even now, though there was no Krysta left to compete with. The rivalry between them had burned bright for years, driving Liliana forward, but now it left her with only a hollow ache.
Krysta's voice cut through the comms with sharp, commanding authority. "Kit star, we advance in echelon formation. Stay tight. No mistakes."
Liliana clenched her jaw but said nothing. Krysta's voice always had a way of irritating her, that tone of superiority as if she were already a Star Commander, already beyond them. But the truth was that Krysta had earned that confidence. The trainers had whispered that she was destined for greatness, that she might even become a Khan one day. Liliana had always hated those whispers.
Still, the fire of their rivalry had pushed her harder than anything else. Without Krysta, there was no one left to measure herself against. Now, all she had was the bitter knowledge that she had survived not by merit, but by fate. She glanced at the other 'Mechs around her, recognizing each of them instantly.
Erich, piloting his Mad Dog, always the quiet one, lethal with his missile racks but silent, introspective. Sorina, in her Hunchback IIC, her temper as volatile as her autocannon. She had always been the one to push others, always eager for a fight, her need for conflict almost pathological. And then Eirik, another Hunchback IIC pilot, calm, strategic, and always two steps ahead in tactical exercises. He had once bested Krysta in a tactical simulation-something Krysta had never forgiven him for.
Krysta herself stood in her Warhawk, the same imposing figure she had always been. The Warhawk was a powerful machine, heavily armed and armored, fitting for the one who had always led their star. Krysta had been the embodiment of Smoke Jaguar's ideals-ruthless, precise, and utterly confident in her superiority. Their rivalry had been fierce, but it had driven Liliana like nothing else could.
But now, as Liliana stared at Krysta's Warhawk, the old fire was gone. Instead, there was a hollow ache in her chest. She knew what was coming. Knew that this wasn't just another training exercise. But Krysta, Erich, Sorina, and Eirik… none of them did. They were walking into their deaths, again, just as they had so many years ago. Only Liliana knew the truth, and the weight of it settled on her like a heavy cloak.
Her comms crackled again, breaking the tense silence.
"I wager it'll be nothing but target drones again," Sorina's voice chimed in, her tone casual, though edged with her usual sharpness. "Always the same. The trainers should at least give us a challenge, quiaff?"
"Neg," came Eirik's calm reply. "The challenge is not in the drones themselves, but in perfection of form and timing. We should-"
"Oh spare me, Eirik," Sorina snapped. "We've done this drill a hundred times. I want something real."
"Careful what you wish for, Sorina," Liliana murmured to herself, her voice barely audible in the cockpit, knowing what fate had in store.
Krysta's voice cut through their banter, crisp and commanding. "Focus, all of you. This is a live exercise, and I will not tolerate sloppy performance. We proceed as planned. Echelon formation, advance to waypoint Delta."
Liliana swallowed her words, keeping her silence. They believed it was a standard combat maneuver. But she knew better. This was no ordinary exercise. They were about to stumble into the Dark Caste outpost again, just as they had before. And this time, she swore to herself, she would not suffer the dishonor of watching her star fall while she survived by chance. Not again.
They moved out, the heavy clanking of 'Mech legs reverberating across the snow-covered plains. The formation was tight, professional, their training evident in every step. Liliana kept her Timber Wolf just behind Krysta's Warhawk, scanning the horizon, knowing the ambush was coming. Her heart raced despite her attempts to maintain control.
The snowfall thickened, and as the landscape blurred, she saw it-the squat, nondescript structure tucked into the mountainside. The Dark Caste outpost.
"Hold formation," Krysta ordered, oblivious to the danger ahead. "Approaching waypoint Delta. Prepare for-"
"Contact!" Liliana shouted into the comms, cutting Krysta off.
Her sensors lit up with hostile signatures just as the first shot screamed across the battlefield, a Gauss slug slamming into the ground near Sorina's Hunchback IIC. Then the Dark Caste 'Mechs emerged from their hiding places, ancient and battered but lethal, moving with the precision of experienced warriors. They opened fire with everything they had, and chaos erupted.
"What the hell?" Krysta's voice was sharp with surprise, but she quickly recovered. "All units, engage!"
Liliana's blood surged as she slammed her Timber Wolf into motion, firing a volley of LRMs into the nearest enemy 'Mech, a battered Marauder. The missiles struck true, ripping into its side, but the Dark Caste warrior kept coming. Her HUD lit up with more hostiles-too many for a Kit star to handle. The ambush had been perfectly timed, just like before.
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Vulcan Medium 'Mech
Sorina's Hunchback IIC opened fire with its AC/20s, the heavy slug slamming into an approaching Vulcan, but the Dark Caste forces kept pressing, their superior numbers overwhelming the Kit Star's attempts to form a defense. Erich's Mad Dog fired off its missile racks, trying to keep the enemy at bay, but there were simply too many.
"We're outnumbered!" Eirik's calm voice broke through the chaos, but Liliana could hear the tension in it. "We need to fall back-"
"There is no retreat!" Krysta barked, her Warhawk's PPCs lighting up the battlefield, searing beams slicing through the swirling snow and smashing into a Shadow Hawk. "We hold here!"
Liliana's hands flew over the controls, her Timber Wolf dancing through the battlefield as she poured fire into the enemy ranks. But they were being overwhelmed, just as before. The Dark Caste were relentless, their desperation giving them an edge over the Kit star. And one by one, the 'Mechs around her began to fall.
Erich's Mad Dog went down first, its missile racks exploding as a salvo from a Wolverine punched through its armor. Sorina followed, her Hunchback IIC collapsing under the combined fire of two enemy 'Mechs. And then, Liliana saw it-Krysta's Warhawk, standing tall amidst the chaos, still fighting, still defiant.
But it was not enough.
A Gauss slug ripped through the Warhawk's torso, blowing it apart in a shower of debris. Krysta's final scream echoed in Liliana's ears as her cockpit was destroyed, the Warhawk crumpling to the ground in a smoking heap.
Liliana's heart thundered in her chest as the battlefield went quiet, the Dark Caste warriors closing in on her. Her Timber Wolf was battered, her systems failing. But this time, she would not wait for rescue. This time, she would not fall by chance.
The battlefield fell into chaos. Smoke and fire filled the sky as the Dark Caste relentlessly hammered Liliana's Timber Wolf. Her star lay in ruins once again, just as they had years ago-Krysta, Erich, Sorina, Eirik-all gone. The bodies of her Sibkin, the warriors who had been forged alongside her, reduced to nothing but smoldering wreckage. The Dark Caste had come out of nowhere, just as they had before, and the Kit star had stood no chance.
And Liliana? She had failed them. Again.
The hiss of warnings filled her cockpit, the heat levels spiking, damage reports flashing in bright red across her HUD. Her Timber Wolf limped, its systems barely holding together. But Liliana's mind wasn't focused on the failing 'Mech. It was trapped in the dark, spiraling insanity that clawed at her heart. The realization that she had failed once more-that she had led her people to their deaths not once, but twice-was too much.
Her mind snapped.
A guttural scream erupted from her throat, her voice raw with rage and grief. "No!" she howled into the empty cockpit. "This will not happen again!"
Her hands tightened on the controls, and something inside her fractured-some final tether of sanity broke loose, and Liliana's rage took over, consuming her completely. Her vision blurred, red clouding her sight as she charged forward, the Timber Wolf's weapons firing wildly, beams of energy and missiles streaking through the battlefield. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to hurt them.
Her comms crackled as Dark Caste voices cut in, disjointed and panicked.
(("-Sensors are scrambled! What the hell is that?! I can't get a lock-"))
(("She's… she's gone! The readings make no sense!"))
"What the hell kind of technology is that?! Get her off me! Get her off me!"
Liliana's Timber Wolf moved with unnatural speed, her 'Mech blurring and shifting across the battlefield like a phantom. The Dark Caste 'Mechs couldn't track her. They tried, desperately, their sensor pings bouncing off her form, unable to find purchase. It was as though the very essence of the battlefield had twisted around her, bending to her fury.
She fired again, her lasers carving through the armor of a Marauder, reducing it to molten slag. Her missiles ripped through a nearby Catapult, its missile racks exploding in a chain reaction. The Dark Caste warriors scattered, but it didn't matter. They couldn't escape. They couldn't see her.
"-Where is she?! She's in front of me-no-she's behind-what is happening?"
Liliana's mind was a storm of violence and madness, her heart pounding with a cold, calculated rage that twisted into something darker. Her hands moved on the controls with mechanical precision, her thoughts fractured but singular in focus: she would destroy them all. Every last one of them. She had failed her star, failed her Clan, but she would not let these bastards survive.
Her eyes fixed on a Dark Caste Orion, its armor scarred and battered from the earlier battle. The pilot frantically tried to retreat, its autocannon firing wildly in every direction, hoping to land a shot. But Liliana was beyond logic now. She moved like a beast unleashed, her Timber Wolf a force of nature driven by her fury.
With a snarl, she charged the Orion, the ground shaking beneath her as her 'Mech closed the distance in a few terrifying strides. The Orion's pilot screamed something over the comms, but Liliana wasn't listening. All she heard was the roar of her own blood, the pulsing thrum of vengeance that drowned out everything else.
The Orion stumbled backward, its legs struggling for purchase in the snow, its weapons useless against the storm that was Liliana Fürste. The Dark Caste pilot's voice came through, desperate, terrified.
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Orion Heavy 'Mech
(("-Get her off! Sensors can't lock! What the hell is she? She's-she's a ghost!"))
Liliana bared her teeth, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she reached the Orion. Her Timber Wolf's massive metal foot came down, smashing into the Orion's cockpit with the full weight of her 'Mech behind it. The crunch of metal and glass was sickening, the sound of a life being extinguished in a single, brutal moment. The Orion collapsed, the cockpit crushed flat beneath her Timber Wolf's foot, leaving nothing but twisted metal and the remnants of the pilot's body.
The battlefield fell into a stunned silence.
Liliana stood above the wreckage, her chest heaving with each breath, her mind a swirling mass of fury, grief, and madness. She had killed them all. Her star was gone. Her Clan was gone. And now the Dark Caste lay in ruins at her feet, their bodies strewn across the snow, their machines torn apart.
But it wasn't enough. The rage still burned, deep and unquenchable.
She wasn't done.
Her Timber Wolf began to move again, her systems glitching, flashing error codes across her HUD, but she ignored them. There was more to kill. More blood to spill.
But then, through the haze of madness, she heard it. The familiar roar of engines. The heavy, pounding footsteps of war machines approaching from the distance. She looked up, her eyes narrowing as she saw them-them-emerging from the snowstorm.
The 225th Jaguar Battle Trinary.
They had come. Again. Just as they had before.
But this time, they were too late to save her star. They were too late to stop the carnage. Liliana's eyes, wild and gleaming with a madness that had consumed her, fixed on the approaching Jaguars. She could hear the chatter over the comms, the voices of the Trinary pilots as they witnessed the aftermath of her rampage.
"By Kerensky's blood… what happened here?"
"Dark Caste… slaughtered. Is that a Kit star?"
"Check your sensors. I can't get a read on that Timber Wolf. What's going on with that machine?"
Liliana stood among the ruins, her Timber Wolf battered but still functional, her eyes locked on the advancing Jaguars. The 225th had come to save her. To rescue her from this battlefield. But there was nothing left to save.
She had destroyed everything. And all that remained was the cold, unforgiving fire that burned in her soul.
She would not be rescued. Not this time.
Her comms crackled as one of the 225th's commanders tried to reach her. "Timber Wolf pilot, stand down. You are under our protection. Report your status."
Liliana's lips twisted into a cruel smile, her hands tightening on the controls as she stared at the approaching Jaguars. They were too late. Far too late.
And as the storm raged around her, she let out a low, cold laugh, the sound echoing through the silent battlefield.
"I am Smoke Jaguar," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible but filled with a cold, brutal resolve. "I do not need saving."
And as the 225th approached, Liliana's Timber Wolf stood still, smoke rising from its joints as the snowstorm swirled around her. She could feel the hum of the reactor straining, the heat warnings screaming across her HUD. The battlefield was a graveyard. The wreckage of Dark Caste 'Mechs lay twisted and burning, shattered beyond recognition, scattered like the corpses of prey animals torn apart by a predator.
The 225th Jaguar Battle Trinary's 'Mechs, a mixture of Dire Wolves, Gargoyles, and Timber Wolves, lined up on the ridge above her, their pilots silent as they surveyed the scene. Not a single one moved to assist, their weapons poised but at rest. They didn't need to fight; there was nothing left to fight. The Dark Caste had been eradicated-utterly crushed by one lone pilot, a Kit no less.
Liliana's breathing was ragged, her pulse pounding in her temples. The rage that had filled her moments before had faded, leaving a cold emptiness behind. Her vision swam as she stared out at the remains of the battlefield. She had avenged her star, but there was no satisfaction, no honor in what she had done. Only a hollow, aching silence.
Then, the Timber Wolf shuddered, and the warning lights flared in bright red.
{{ACTUATOR FAILURE. LEG SUPPORT COMPROMISED}}
The words blinked angrily on her screen, and before she could react, the Timber Wolf's right leg buckled. The entire machine tilted, the massive weight of the 'Mech collapsing as the damaged actuator finally gave out. Her 'Mech lurched to the side, and she felt herself thrown against the restraints. The impact was like a thunderclap, the ground trembling beneath the weight of the fallen war machine.
Liliana's head slammed into the side of the cockpit. Her restraints, weakened from the prolonged combat and damage, snapped loose. The cockpit filled with the high-pitched whine of failing systems, sparks flying as the Timber Wolf settled into the snow, half-buried, smoke pouring from its damaged joints. She gripped the sides of her seat, her vision a blur of red and black as pain pulsed through her skull.
Outside, the Dark Caste warriors-the few that remained-began to drop their weapons. One by one, they emerged from their 'Mechs, hands raised in surrender. Their faces, visible through the cockpit's magnification, were etched with fear. They had seen their comrades torn apart, obliterated by a kits-a kit who had not even completed her Trial of Position.
(="They surrendered… to a kits?"=) one of the 225th's pilots muttered over the comms, disbelief and disgust mingling in his voice. (="These freebirth scum have no honor."=)
Another voice chimed in, darker, colder. <)"They are not worth the air they breathe. They are not even worth taking as bondsmen." There was a pause, and then the unmistakable sound of PPCs charging. "Exterminate them."(>
Outside, the Dark Caste pilots screamed, their voices echoing over the comms as the 225th's 'Mechs opened fire. Liliana watched through blurred vision as the laser beams and autocannon rounds tore through the surrendered Dark Caste 'Mechs, reducing them to twisted, smoking wreckage. The pilots, those who had dared to climb out and surrender, were cut down without hesitation, their bodies disintegrating under the withering fire of the Jaguars.
"-No! Wait-!" one of the Dark Caste screamed as he was vaporized, his form dissolving into a flash of light.
Liliana felt a twisted sense of satisfaction mixed with the hollow ache in her chest. This was the way of Clan Smoke Jaguar-no mercy for the weak, no salvation for those who fell short of the Clan's expectations. She knew it was how things were, how they had always been. And yet, the screams-those final, desperate cries-felt like echoes of her own past, of her own failure, and they dug into her like claws.
The comms of the 225th fell silent as the last Dark Caste pilot was destroyed. The warriors of the 225th stared down at her Timber Wolf, now lying in the snow like a dead beast. None of them moved to help, their 'Mechs standing in grim formation. She knew what they were thinking. They had witnessed something monstrous-something unnatural.
(("By the Great Father…")) one of them whispered. (("She did this alone. A kits…"))
<="Aff,"=> another replied. <="Not a Star Commander, not a Galaxy Commander-a kits."=>
She felt their eyes on her, their judgment, their fear. Smoke Jaguars were bred to fight, bred to kill, but they were also bred to follow order, to embrace honor. What Liliana had done was not honorable; it was the work of a beast unleashed, of a Kit who had lost all sense of discipline. They looked at her not as a hero, but as a nightmare-a harbinger of something wrong.
Inside the cockpit, Liliana's vision swam as blood dripped down her forehead. The pain flared, a searing hot lance through her skull, and the rage-cold, simmering-surged once again. She slammed her head against the side of the cockpit, a harsh, metallic clang echoing through the enclosed space. The world spun, her senses collapsing under the weight of it all.
I failed them again. The thought echoed, a relentless chant in her mind. Her sibko had died once, and she had been powerless. Now, her star had fallen a second time. No matter how many enemies she killed, no matter how much carnage she wrought, the truth remained-she was alone.
She slammed her head again, and again, the pain exploding each time. She welcomed it. It was punishment, it was justice. She needed to feel something, anything that would fill the emptiness clawing at her.
"Liliana Fürste… dead and gone. A phantom." Her voice was a whisper, bitter and cracked.
Outside, the 225th's Mechs remained motionless, their pilots watching the wreckage of the battlefield and the lone Kit who had reduced it to ash. No one moved to help her. No one called her a warrior. She was not a hero to them-only a reminder of the brutality they embodied, the cruelty of the Smoke Jaguar legacy.
And as the snow continued to fall, Liliana slumped in her seat, the blood pooling beneath her as darkness finally closed in, the silence swallowing her whole.