A Cobra's Tale... Part 1: The Restless Warrior

Part 1: Breaking Away

Outskirts of Port Racice, Tukayyid, Free Rasalhague Republic, December 4th 3066 Lazarus Jamal eased back on the throttle of his Lao-Hu, slowing the mech to a comfortable walking pace. He’d put a good ten kilometres between himself and Tukayyid’s capital city and there was no sign of pursuit. His earlier anxiety faded as he took in the rolling hills and woodland that bordered the city. He felt a slight twinge of guilt as his gaze fell upon a large patch of scorched and muddied ground – the area his former unit had used as a temporary base of operations against the renegade Smoke Jaguar Trinary just forty eight hours earlier. He brought the Lao-Hu to a stop, his gaze fixed on the site, less than half a kilometre distant. He became lost in thought as his mind went over the events of the last two days again and the enormity of his decision finally began to sink in. The former sergeant in Shadow Company, (part of the 2nd Battalion of the Inner Sphere Defence Force’s elite 3rd Cameron Guards), had had a particularly hard time during the battle – at one point finding himself up against two Clan assault mechs. He had fought bravely and made it through with his mech more or less intact, but in the hours afterwards, something had happened to him. He couldn’t quite explain it. It wasn’t fear...all he knew was that he wanted out - and as quickly as possible. He’d gone to see the battalion CO and asked if he could take the leave he’d accumulated to that point. Colonel McKinlay had denied his request, saying that he'd received new orders and that 2nd Battalion was to form part of a new unit to be deployed to the Lyran Alliance. He’d then requested a transfer to a garrison unit. McKinlay had said he could arrange it but that it could take weeks, possibly months to iron out the details. Finally, in desperation, Jamal had resigned his commission. Again, the Colonel had said it could be arranged but that the paperwork would take time to process. He’d said he was sorry to lose such a skilled pilot but that he respected his decision. Leaving it at that, Lazarus had quietly left the office and gone back to his quarters aboard the dropship, where he’d spent the rest of the day alone in contemplation. 2nd Battalion (nicknamed the Night Hunters) were scheduled to leave Tukayyid the next day, so he’d had to act quickly. It was really just a matter of timing. Fortunately, security was minimal in the wake of the victory over the Jaguars. He’d gone down to the mech bay late that evening, already dressed in his mechwarrior’s gear. All the techs had retired to the crew’s mess for drinks and a game of poker. The dark, cavernous holding area was silent. The warm air was heavy with the usual smells of lubricants, metal, munitions and sweat. He’d walked over to the Lao-Hu, the Capellan-designed heavy battlemech was racked in its transit pod and stood staring at it for several moments as he screwed up his courage to do what he needed to do. First, he’d made a careful search of the mech bay and armoury, gathering items he could trade for cash – small arms, ammunition, spare parts and other sundry items. He took care not to take too much or anything that would be seriously missed. He painstakingly loaded the gear into the pilot's locker under the Lao-Hu’s cockpit. He’d then activated the bay doors. They were slow and noisy. Jamal prayed that everyone would be too distracted by the celebrations going on throughout the ship to notice. In the end, he had just enough time to get strapped into his command couch and begin the start-up sequence before the ramp was fully extended. Skipping a full systems check, he’d walked his mech out of its bay as soon as he had full control. A detailed system diagnosis could wait until later. With his external mikes on to pick up any sound of alarm, the mech sounded incredibly noisy as he made his way down the ramp. It was, however, the only sound he detected. Soon the ringing clash of metal on metal was replaced by the dull thump of the Lao-Hu’s feet pounding the soft grassy ground. He did not stop or look back until he was well clear of the area. Cresting a small hill, just over a kilometre distant, he’d stopped and turned round for one last look…only to see the landing area a swarm of activity. Men, vehicles and mechs were piling out of the three dropships and fanning out – undoubtedly to begin a search. He’d been certain that his absence would be noticed sooner or later and that they’d come after him…he’d just been banking on it taking a little longer. Lazarus kicked his mech into a run and headed into the darkness. Rather than try to hide a 75-ton mech in a city with so many curious eyes, especially one decked out in the distinctive colour scheme chosen by Shadow Company, he’d decided to head out into the sticks, perhaps find a cave or a thick area of woodland to hide in and wait it out. It wasn’t long before he found a promising spot – a large, dense stand of evergreen trees, growing at the foot of some rocky, boulder-strewn hills. As he got closer, his mag-res sensors started going haywire. Must be ore-bearing rock, he thought. That would screw up the sensor readings of any would-be pursuers. They might switch to thermal imaging, but if he powered down, allowing his mech to cool down, it would deny them that means of detection too. Perfect! He thought, as he carefully picked his way through the thick-stemmed pines. In the end he decided on a compromise and powered down to a minimum level that would allow him to make a quick start in case he needed to make a run from his place of concealment. He’d only been waiting for quarter of an hour when his former lancemates came scouting through the area. With his external mikes still on he could hear their mechs and vehicles. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of searchlights and mechs silhouetted against them. The roar of low-flying aerospace fighters came through to him at regular intervals. Aerial reconnaissance! He hadn’t thought of that. Still, the overhead foliage would deny them any visual sightings. Lazarus leaned back in his command couch and closed his eyes, praying they would give up soon – not that they would – any personnel going AWOL was a very serious matter indeed. Their search time was limited though, as they had to be ready to lift off tomorrow morning. If I can just stay invisible until then, he thought. When he opened his eyes again, it was to find shafts of early morning sunlight lancing through the trees into his cockpit. Squinting upward, he saw small patches of dark blue sky through gaps in the green canopy. Remembering where he was with a start, he listened intently for any external sounds but heard nothing except birdsong and the rustle of trees as the wind moved through them. Cold, fuzzy-headed and hungry, he went through the power-up procedure to bring the Lao-Hu fully on-line again.

Part 2: Another Time...Another Place

Outskirts of Port Racice, Tukayyid, Free Rasalhague Republic, December 5th 3066 As he carefully guided his Lao-Hu out of the woods, Laz tried to stay focused on carrying out his meticulously thought out plan. It was hard though. The elation that came with finally being free and having time to think opened all manner of previously closed compartments in his mind. Long-buried thoughts and memories sprang unbidden to the forefront of his consciousness, among them his earliest memories of childhood, many years ago and halfway across the Inner Sphere from his current place in time… He’d begun his life on the border world of Jonathan in the Capellan Confederation. He’d been just six years old when the pirates had landed and raided his hometown, in search of human cargo. With no local militia to speak of, the townsfolk had been left to fend for themselves as best they could. His father had been killed defending their farmstead, while he and his mother had been taken captive, along with many others. The raiders had intended to sell them at one of the illicit slave markets dotted throughout the edge of the Inner Sphere. The rulers of the Periphery States had tried, with limited success, to hunt down the slave traders and other pirates that plagued their territories, but with too few resources and too much space to cover (not to mention the high demand for cheap labour from many unscrupulous corporations), they were always going to be on the losing side. However, this particular trip was just the start of an epic journey. Initially, they’d been passed on to a trader from the Free Worlds League, who’d then sold them to a Lyran merchant. Shortly after, they’d been traded yet again and their new owners had bypassed the Jade Falcon Occupation Zone and headed for the barely charted regions beyond the Inner Sphere. Months passed as they’d jumped from system to system and they became used to their nomadic lifestyle. All that changed one day, when they’d been marched from the cramped, stuffy cargo bays at gunpoint and they’d found themselves at Penzance City spaceport on the world of New Cornwall in the Hanseatic League. Waiting for them had been a small fleet of buses…and more men with guns. They’d scarcely looked any better than the pirates. Not having any choice, they’d quietly filed aboard the buses under the watchful eyes of their new masters, where they had been driven to a large, grim-looking building in the heart of the city’s merchant sector. They’d been hustled into the converted warehouse and had been confined to cramped quarters until the day of the auction. The auction had been held in a large hall in one of the sub-levels – a stage had been set up at the far end with the rest of the space taken up by rows of chairs. As he and his mother had been led onstage, the young Lazarus had gazed fearfully round at the audience. His eyes had come to rest on a tall, powerfully built woman in uniform. Her striking looks had drawn his gaze. Her long dark hair, deep green eyes and fox-like features commanded attention and he found himself unable to look away. The crest on her jacket was that of a coiled snake, poised to strike. They had made eye contact and she had returned his stare thoughtfully. Mid-way through the bidding, she got up from her seat and spoke to one of the traffickers standing guard round the room’s periphery. The man had walked over to his boss, seated on the other side of the room and leaned down to speak with him. The head trader had turned to stare at the woman, rubbing his chin for a few moments in obvious consideration, before nodding. He caught the auctioneer’s attention and made a slashing gesture across his throat, then he pointed backstage before returning his attention to the noteputer he had been studying. The next thing Laz knew, he and his mother were being escorted backstage from where they’d emerged just a few minutes earlier, where they were introduced to the mysterious woman he’d seen in the audience. Star Captain Yelena Telinov of Clan Cloud Cobra had then led them outside to her hovercar and driven them to the spaceport. An Overlord-C class dropship had been their final destination. Lazarus and his mother had spent several days getting accustomed to their new surroundings while the Cobras had concluded their business on New Cornwall. Eventually they had lifted off, met up with a jumpship and began their journey to the Cloud Cobra enclave on Brim, deep in Clan space. Beginning their new life as Clan civilians, Lazarus’s mother had been inducted into the labourer caste where she’d worked on plantations not unlike those of their homeworld. Laz on the other hand, had been placed in an experimental program run by the Clan’s scientists, designed to see if freeborn children could be trained as Clan warriors. Lazarus had excelled in physical and combat training and had absorbed the Clan teachings as naturally as breathing, eventually becoming the leader of his ‘sibko’. In due course he had been assigned to the 185th Cobra Fang, in which he’d served quietly, without distinction, until the chance to compete in a Bloodname Trial had presented itself. He’d grabbed the opportunity with both hands, brutally blowing away the opposition, finally winning and claiming the Bloodname Jamal for himself. Since his instructors had only ever used his first name, he no longer remembered his original surname. As far as he was concerned Lazarus Jamal was his true name. In any case, his success had marked him as a ristar and promotion to an elite front line unit soon followed. The next and perhaps most bizarre twist in his life had come three years later when Victor Steiner-Davion had led Task Force Serpent to Strana Mechty and fought the Trial of Refusal that put an end to the Clans’ conquest of the Inner Sphere. The then Star Captain Jamal had found his unit part of the force sent by the Cobras to fight against Victor’s forces. It had been a case of incompetent leadership on his superiors’ part and inexperience on the part of his fellow Clansmen, really. His Binary had been tasked to fight a company of the Davion Heavy Guard in the arctic wastelands of Strana Mechty. His unit had no experience of fighting in snow and ice and had fared badly at the hands of the veteran FedSuns unit. Lazarus and a handful of survivors from his unit had been captured and taken back to New Avalon for study and evaluation. After months of humiliating captivity, performing tests under the watchful eyes of the NAIS scientists his potential had been spotted by a visiting high-ranking Davion officer. The officer had arranged his transfer to Robinson where the fledgling Rapid Response RCT had been forming, for trials with hundreds of others, mechwarriors, officers, mercenaries – even hotshot kids with their family mechs. As he had with the Cloud Cobras, Lazarus had impressed the ISDF officers overseeing the project and was offered a place with one of the front line companies. Dispossessed, disillusioned and with his life turned upside down, he had accepted at once – for no other reason than it gave his life purpose once again. As one of the top-scoring recruits he had been assigned to the Nighthunters, based on Orestes in the FRR - about as close to the Clan Occupation Zones as it was possible to get. The Lao-Hu stumbled into a pothole, throwing the machine off balance and shaking Laz from his reverie. He fought to keep the mech upright and brought it to a halt just yards short of one of the main roads leading out of Port Racice, one of Tukayyid's main cities. Conducting a quick systems check, he brought his weapons on-line and began a slow patrol up and down a hundred-metre stretch of roadside, waiting impatiently for a target. He didn’t have to wait long. A large station wagon that had most definitely seen better days came cruising out of the city. Until now shielded by the thick row of trees and bushes that grew at the roadside, Laz stepped out into the middle of the road and turned to face the oncoming car. The driver, alarmed at the sight of the 75-ton war machine suddenly blocking his path, slammed on the brakes and swerved, skidding into a tangle of bushes on the opposite side of the road. Laz used his HUD’s zoom facility to get a closer look at the driver. The man was slumped over the wheel and appeared unconscious. He walked his mech back into the cover of the trees before hurriedly dismounting and running across to the vehicle. Drawing his hand-held laser as a precaution, he slowly opened the front passenger side door, just in case the man was faking it. Laz needn’t have worried – the man was out like a light. Checking for injuries before tying him up with his coat sleeves and belt, Laz lifted the unconscious driver over his shoulder and strode back to his mech. With a considerable effort he climbed back into the cockpit and dumped the man unceremoniously into the cramped space behind the command couch. Reversing the Lao-Hu into the treeline and turning awkwardly in the confined space, Laz scanned the terrain, which was dotted with isolated farmsteads, until he found one which appeared deserted. He pushed the throttle to the stops and the machine responded to his actions, bounding along at a bone-shaking run, though he knew it appeared far more graceful from the outside. It took a matter of minutes to cover the several hundred metres to the rather forlorn collection of buildings that had once been part of Tukayidd's prosperous farming community. Jamal carefully backed the mech into one of the large barns before powering down and exiting, carrying the driver with him and hiding the still-comatose man behind some rusted machinery. Wedging the huge crooked wooden doors shut, he covered the distance back to the car at a brisk jog. When he got back to the road he was relieved to find that no-one appeared to have taken an interest in the abandoned vehicle. He jumped into the driver’s seat, slammed the door shut and put the car into reverse. He gunned the still-running engine and reversed out of the hedgerow, back wheels spinning and kicking up dirt, before swinging the vehicle round and heading into the city…