“Left arm armor damage 80%.” The computer droned as Des desperately swerved his Mercury to the right in a futile attempt to avoid the storm of missiles coming from a Wyvern.
The arm damage had been caused by a laser blast from the same opponent, which Des was sure had Secorra at the controls.
Recon nav pint beta, pick up the metal package, get out, and the test is over. Yeah right. Freebirth! Des cursed silently.
It was supposed to be a simple test. Instead Des found himself fighting for his life against a mech more than twice the mass of his 20 ton Mercury, and with a fully trained warrior at its controls.
The weapons were all operating at lower levels, but the shuddering of the mech from missile hits attested to the ferocity of the test, and the cracked cockpit plexiglass on one panel from a laser hit showed that even powered down weapons could be lethal. There was no better way to drive home the fact that this was no simulation.
As far as Des could make out, he had only one slight advantage, and that was the speed of the Mercury. Wyverns were city fighting machines, with a slow top speed and jump jets, but packing a lot of serious firepower.
Firepower that was sent his way time and again.
The location of the battle was not good for him as well. A narrow rocky pass with steep slopes on either side limited the utility of his speed, and forcing him to charge at the Wyvern in an attempt to get to the nav point.
He had approached the narrow pass when the Wyvern had suddenly powered up without warning. Retreat had not really been an option, and even though there were other ways to get to the nav point, it would have been relatively easy for the Wyvern to cut him off an every approach.
So Des decided to bite the bullet, and attempt to get the package while his armor was still fresh.
The Wyvern was perfectly content to stand and shoot at the oncoming Mercury, using its fearsome array of LRMs, SRMs, and lasers to pummel Des’ mech.
Des returned fire with his own lasers, and the sight of melted armor plating on the Wyvern was heartening. It still had more than armor to spare though, and the worst part of it was that the other pilot knew it too.
Goal is to get the package, not to defeat this monster! Des reminded himself. It was impossible anyway for him to beat the Wyvern.
Des grimaced as another piece of the battered Mercury was torn off, while a series of missile near-misses buffeted the light mech, forcing him to concentrate on keeping the mech upright as he finally saw a chance to slip past the Wyvern.
The enemy pilot had been too eager to shoot at his Mercury, only twisting his torso around but not actually moving the Wyvern in order to get a better shot. Des had managed to move his mech such that when he finally unleashed the power of the Myomer Acceleration Signal Circuitry, he would be in a position to get to the nav point and threaten the Wyvern’s rear.
Des thumbed a switch, and there was a deep throbbing emanating from under him as the myomer muscles went into an excited state, contracting and expanding much quicker than normal myomer, thus enabling the Mercury to reach incredible speeds.
The mech was already moving around at top speed when the MASC engaged, and it almost seemed as if a rocket pack was strapped to its back as it suddenly shot forward, whipping around in a tight arc to run around the Wyvern.
The Wyvern, momentarily thrown off by the sudden acceleration of the Mercury, could only trigger off a series of laser blasts which nipped at the heels of the fast moving mech, spraying up bits of dust and sand as the .
Des found himself sweating profusely as the Mercury dashed past the Wyvern, even as he used the right arm laser of the mech to fire into the Wyvern’s rear.
The Wyvern slowly turned around to deal with Des, but he had already sprinted away for the safety of distance. In fact, Des estimated that there was more armor on the Mercury’s rear than its front!
The Wyvern fired its long range missiles and its large laser at the Mercury, but Des managed to avoid the shots, running a zigzag pattern to confuse his opponent while keeping one eye on his rear view displays. The mech burst through the pass into a small bowl-shaped valley, surrounded by rock walls on all sides.
Another three hundred meters, he told himself. He could already see the package lying on the ground in the center of the valley, a large metal box, waiting for him to pick it up with the Mercury’s hands.
Except that his left hand actuator had already been shot off, and the other arm was hanging on by a few strands of myomer aided by a few grateful thoughts from Des.
Des concentrated hard as he leaned the Mercury’s torso as far to the right as possible, trying to maintain the mech’s balance while moving at faster than a hundred kilometers per hour. By inserting his hand into the close control interface glove, he extended the right arm of the mech down fully, and snagged the package as the Mercury sprinted past.
The Wyvern was in hot pursuit, but now that Des had managed to get the package, he had several other routes to use for his escape. There were at least three ways he could use to get out of the immediate area, not counting the pass where he had battled the Wyvern.
However, the thought of defeating the Wyvern tugged at his mind. What glory he would achieve if he could defeat the mech!
A full missile and laser salvo drove such thoughts out of his mind with a vengeance as the Wyvern cut loose, not willing to let the impertinent upstart get away.
Des nearly panicked, and almost bungled his retreat as he almost lost hold of the package, the box almost blasted out of the mech’s grip.
It was clear to him that defeating the opposing mech was not the objective of the test, even if it was one he could defeat. Getting away with the package was.
Des engaged the MASC system again, hoping that the myomers would not freeze up under such strenuous use. He could not see any other real alternative to getting away as fast as possible.
He turned into one particular pass away from the Wyvern, knowing that the Wyvern would not be able to keep up on sheer ground speed alone.
A flare of golden light from above informed him of his mistake, as the Wyvern descended on fiery jump jets right in front of him, flying over the steep walls and showing the advantages of having jump jets.
Freebirth, I forgot the Wyvern has jump jets! His mind screamed even as he calculated his chances of turning around and making a run for it again.
He came to only one conclusion. Extremely poor.
There were a few final options he could take, none of which were appealing, but he was already desperate, and desperate men take wild chances.
Using the right arm of the Mercury, Des flung the metal box at the Wyvern. His aim was true.
The Wyvern seemed shocked as the package connected solidly with its head, even denting one side of the human-like face. It stood there for several long seconds as the Mercury closed with all guns blazing, more to distract than to truly hurt. Then almost like a tree, the Wyvern slowly toppled over onto its back in a tremendous crash. The ground shook violently as a massive dust cloud erupted from around the fallen mech.
Des did not waste any time thanking his good fortune. He grabbed up the box again, and ran back to base.
“I have seen some extremely stupid ideas in my time, but this one beats them all!” Varro Drummond roared loudly, half in laughter, and half in mortification at what his cadet had done.
A sheepish Descartin and a furious Secorra were gathered in Varro’s office for the test debrief. By all standards, Des had passed the test, which would determine whether the cadet could move on to more advanced and powerful weapons like missiles, autocannons, and advanced electronics, as well as heavier and more advanced mechs.
Secorra was extremely angry, however, due to Des’ highly questionable tactics. Varro thought the large purple bruise on Secorra’s head also had a lot to do with his present anger. “He used physical combat! That is ground enough for disqualification!”
Varro remained calm in the face of his instructor’s outburst. “I do not recall, Officer Secorra, any direct physical contact made by the Mercury on your Wyvern. Therefore, cadet Descartin did not engage in physical combat, and thus the result stands, that he has qualified for the next round of training.”
Varro took a glance at Des as he spoke, and he noted the blank expression on the cadet’s face. Good, he knows when to be silent.
“Is there anything else, Officer Secorra?”
The big man shook his head, seething to himself. “Neg.” He hissed out the words.
“Then you are free to leave the office. I am going to have some words with the cadet.”
Varro waited patiently for Secorra to leave, and the look on Secorra’s face as he left the office was one of sheer fury at Descartin.
“Cadet Descartin, you have impressed many with your performance in the test.” Indeed he had, for no other cadet had ever faced such odds. In all truth, Varro had assigned the opposing mechs himself, with the other cadets facing old Valkyries, Panthers, or other light mechs that were only slightly more powerful than the 20 tonners they were using.
Only Descartin had been pitted against a 45 ton Wyvern in confining terrain, almost insurmountable obstacles. Varro had not actually expected him to succeed in the test, and was willing to let the cadet through with just a good performance.
But Des had exceeded even his expectations, beating all the odds and returning with the package that was the objective.
The Mercury that returned was a walking wreck, with burnt myomer strands protruding from all over the shattered armor.
Appearances could be very deceiving. The techs had already confirmed that the mech would be back to full operational status in just ten hours, which had surprised Varro greatly. Apparently the damage was mostly skin deep, with no damage to the really critical parts like the engine shielding or the massive gyroscopes. Actuators were relatively easy to replace compared to the nightmare of a fusion engine leaking intense radiation.
“So what should I do with you now?”
Varro asked the cadet standing stiffly at attention in front of his desk.
“The cadet believes he should
return to his bunk for rest, sir!” Des shouted.
Varro hid a smile. It was apparent
that the young warrior was exhausted, and tired enough to demand rest that was
denied to him but not to the other cadets.
The entire sibko of eight cadets
had all passed the test, an excellent record and a testament, Varro hoped, on
the abilities of his staff.
He got back to the matter at hand.
“I shall give you your rest, provided you could answer a few short questions.
This won’t take long, quiaff?”
“Aff!”
“What did you feel when the Wyvern
appeared? Be truthful.”
“The cadet was shocked, sir!”
“Why?”
“The cadet thought there was no
way past the situation!”
Varro smiled grimly. “And why did
you use the box as a projectile? That was supposed to be the objective of this
mission.”
“The cadet was desperate, sir! And
anything and everything can be a weapon!”
“In other words, you were also
considering physical attacks, quiaff?”
There was no reply.
“Quiaff?” Varro asked again with
an edge in his voice.
“Aff,” Des replied softly.
“At least you did not actually
carry one out. And even if you did, there are no written rules forbidding the
use of physical attacks, except for a psychological taboo against them.”
Des looked confused. “No written
rules forbidding physical attacks?”
“Aff. It was strictly an unwritten
taboo laid down by the Great Founder. However, he was also flexible enough to
realize that some opponents might not follow these rules, so it was not cast in
stone, so to speak. Using such tactics would result in a loss of honor in the
eyes of the clans, but some warriors are willing to pay the price for success
if it can bring them victory.”
Understanding dawned in
Descartin’s eyes.
Varro continued, “When you get
back to your bunk and meet up with the other cadets, you will find out that
your test had not been entirely fair to you.”
“The cadet wishes to know why,
sir.”
“Simple. The others faced only
light mechs, equipped with few weapons, making it easier for them to get the
package. You were the only one that faced a medium mech, one that was well
suited to close in fighting in the hills.”
Varro could see Des trying to hold
his anger in check, his jaw muscles tense as he replied, “The cadet thinks it
was not fair to him. What if he had failed to accomplish the mission?”
“You would have passed to the next
stage of training anyway, just as long you had done as much as you could.”
“Then why?”
“Because I wanted to see how well
you would do in an impossible situation. If we had given you a standard test, I
have no doubt you would have qualified easily.”
Varro leaned over his desk to
stare into Des eyes, “I wanted you to know that nothing in the clans is ever
easy. From now on, you will be pushed harder and further than your sibkin. If
you can measure up, you will be one of the best warriors in the clan. If you
cannot, you will wash out. Are you willing to accept such a challenge?”
Des stared back defiantly. “Aff, I
accept.”
“Hey! He is back!” Deserk
announced as a sweaty and drained Des tramped up the stairs.
The sound of clapping could be
heard all the way to the parade ground as the sibko gathered around Des. A
bubble of noise surrounded him on all sides.
“I saw the ROMs, you were great!”
“How did you ever think of using
the box as a weapon?”
“That Secorra got what was coming
to him!”
“Quiet!” Des suddenly shouted,
exasperated at the amount of attention he was having. “I am practically dead on
my feet, and do you all not have any other better things to do than to pester
me?”
The sibko shrank back from his
voice, all of them scrambling away to their own tasks.
“You know, they were just
concerned, that is all.” A nonchalant Deserk, seemingly unworried about Des’
temper, leaned back against a nearby wall. “You were the last one out, and we
all thought you did not make it after we learnt that you were facing Instructor
Secorra who was using a Wyvern.”
“No confidence in me, quiaff?”
Deserk nodded slowly. “Aff. You
are good, but realistically speaking, it was not fair for you. What if you had
failed?”
“I did not.”
His friend persisted. “What if you
had?”
Descartin sighed. “Commander
Drummond said that as long as I had put up a good fight, I would still qualify
for the next stage.”
Deserk’s ears perked up. “He
really said that?”
“Aff.”
“So that must mean that he wanted
you to fail the test, but you ruined it all by succeeding anyway. So what
happens next? You do know that one way or the other, we are all depending on
you to lead us through the next few years, quiaff?”
“I go on. Commander Drummond
intends to push me as hard as possible, so you all might get caught up as well.
As for being the leader, why me?”
“Because you have not failed us
yet, and those tips and hints of yours are coming in very handy.”
Deserk paused, “Oh, and we all
have been given a day off for rest. Lintya and the others plan on taking a
shuttle to the city tomorrow morning, and Jazelyn had already granted us her
permission. Want to come along?”
“Sure. We have not left this stravag
place for a long time. A trip to the city might be interesting.”
“It is settled then. I will go
tell them.”
Des slumped to the wall just
outside the bunk, bone weary after the events of the day. Then he felt a
strange prickling at the back of his neck, a sensation of danger.
He spun around to see Secorra
facing him. The big man was a menacing sight, his fists clenched, an expression
of rage on his face, his teeth pulled back in a snarl.
“Instructor Secorra, do you
require anything?” Des’s words were respectful, but his tone was not.
Secorra growled, “I have enough of
being made to look like a fool by a barely grown whippet of a cadet! Tomorrow,
we shall settle the score between us once and for all!”
“What are you talking about, sir?”
Des asked mockingly.
“I know from Jazelyn that your
sibko is going to the city tomorrow. I want you to be at Firm Street at 1100
hrs. You will be there, or I shall break one of your fellow sibkin, if not now,
then in the future.”
“Is this what it all comes down
to? You just cannot get over your defeat, quiaff?” Des scoffed. “So be it.
Bargained well and done. I am sick of seeing your stupid face. We need a new
instructor who can finally teach us proper skills instead of insulting us all
the time.”
“You try to bid like a warrior,
but you are not one yet. You will pay!” Secorra said as he left.
Des went back to get his stuff,
thinking all the time. He wants to fight outside the training center because
he knows that Varro would disapprove. I doubt Jazelyn would know either. Either
way, I am committed. I had better wash up and rest. The fight is going to be
important. I do not want to lose.
Because if he lost, he would probably be dead.