Ways Of Seeing Training Facility, Barcella,

Kerensky Cluster,

21^st July 3051

 

It was the day they had waited, had worked for, all their lives. The day they would prove themselves, or forever be relegated to the mindless, mundane ranks of the lower castes.

The day of their Trial of Positions.

Descartin looked around the waiting room, where the other members of his sibko awaited their turn to go to the mechbay, where they would get into their assigned mechs, and march out to their destiny.

The tension in the room was expected, but less familiar was the feeling of fear. Des glared at Feelia, who had started it when she had admitted her trepidation at the Trial. Then Lintya had come with her own fears, and suddenly everybody was sharing their worst nightmares.

Consequently, the confidence in the room had plummeted from its normal sky high levels like a sinking Dire Wolf in water, the seemingly rock solid arrogance of the warriors-to-be punctured as easily as a balloon.

Of course, only Des knew what a balloon was, and the comparison was appropriate, since the arrogance was only puffed up by a lot of hot air.

Feelia was right to be concerned, since she had consistently the lowest scores, but the others had no excuse for being afraid. Fearful, yes, but not so scared that their skills would be impaired. Des was feeling a bit nervous himself, but he did not let it grow as the others had. He suppressed it ruthlessly, but leaving a bit of it behind, allowing it to hone the edge of his keen senses, making use of it.

If I cannot suppress it utterly, I shall not let it overwhelm my senses either. Des thought to himself.

Unfortunately, that did not hold for the rest of the sibko. Descartin sighed, before he decided to help everybody.

“I always had a problem with missile trajectories. What if my opponent goes for a long range duel?” Nioco was saying.

“Then you deal with it.” Des cut in, his voice firm. The rest of the sibko turned to look at him.

He said, “This is the most important day of our lives. I do not blame you if you feel afraid to some extent, but to allow your fear to control you can only lead to failure.”

“We are all good enough. The scores from our mock runs and other tests can attest to that. All we need to do now is to believe it ourselves.”

“But they do not mean anything.” Deserk protested.

“They did to our instructors. Remember what Commander Varro Drummond and his staff said to us? They said they look forward to serving with us as warriors. If that was not a sign of their confidence in us, I will gladly fight a Dire Wolf in a Fire Moth.”

Des motioned everybody to sit in a circle. As the unacknowledged leader of the sibko, even though there was never any such official position as Cadet Leader or the like, everybody listened to him.

Once they were all seated, he said, “Close your eyes.” He closed his own eyes. “Picture yourself fighting in the Trial. Your opponent fights valiantly, and so do you. Lasers and missiles fly forth to shatter armor, the sound of thunder roaring across the battlefield.”

“Then you finally defeat your opponent. You face another mech, and you fight on. But you know, that you are finally a warrior of the clan, and you are presented with the daggerstar as you climb down from your wrecked mech after the Trial. Congratulations, warriors of the clan.”

“Now open your eyes.” Des ordered. As expected, their eyes were no longer filled with fear, replaced by eagerness and confidence.

“As you all know, two days ago, the ilKhan activated our clan to take part in the return to the Inner Sphere. I probably do not have to tell you that as newly minted warriors, we will all get to step foot on the blessed worlds our ancestors left. I most certainly do not have to tell you of the glorious battles we will have battling House Kurita, or showing up the Smoke Jaguars for the inept fools they are, quineg?” They all laughed at that.

“So then, we all know what is going to happen. All that remains is getting there.” He drew back his lips in a predator’s smile. “Let us show them what the Burning Tooth Sibko is made of, quiaff?”

 

Des marched his Timber Wolf across the rolling plains, his eyes checking his sensors constantly for any sign of his enemies. Three hundred meters to his left, Deserk was probably doing the same in his Summoner.

They were the last group to move out, the last pair to fight their trials. The others had all completed their trials, and Des hoped that everybody had made it through.

His Timber Wolf had been configured to suit his fighting style. He loved energy weapons for their range and durability, and had placed as many of them on the mech as possible.

An ER PPC protruded from each arm of the chicken-legged mech, while three extended range medium lasers rode in each of his side torsos. An anti-missile system rounded out his arsenal, placed in his right torso.

He had also given the Timber Wolf jumping capability, able to jump up to 150 meters, as well as ample heat sinks to jump and fire either set of his weapons without overheating.

His particle cannons were tied into his secondary Target Interlock Circuit, while the mediums were tied to his tertiary TIC. He figured he would not have to use the primary TIC, which would fire all his weapons, unless the situation got desperate, or advantageous of him to do so.

At least I hope it would not get desperate. Des had already formed up his own plan for the Trial, where he hoped to take down as many mechs as possible.

He punched up the map of the area on his secondary HUD again, checking for spots where he could employ the mech’s jumping ability to its utmost.

A pinging sound drew his attention to his radar screen. His opponents had appeared. Three glowing red dots appeared on the screen, each one britsling with weapons.

Des wanted to laugh once he saw the mechs of his opponents. A Hellbringer, a Gargoyle, and a Dire Wolf. They would probably attack him with the lightest mech, the Hellbringer, first, then the Gargoyle, then the Dire Wolf. A strategy for taking out all three mechs one by one came to him.

He launched the Timber Wolf into a sprinting run for a nearby clump of woods, taking care to remain just out of range of the Hellbringer, which had also started running forward.

His opponent fired first, two large laser beams nipping at his heels before a burst of autocannon fire chased Des into the woods. A swarm of missiles slammed into the ground, but all its weapons had missed.

My turn, Des told himself as he lined up his PPCs. Two particle beams streaked out in a flash of artificial lightning, one passing wide of the Hellbringer, but the other carving into its left torso.

First blood to me, Des grinned under his neurohelmet. Hellbringers were notoriously under-armored, and there was a slight chance of internal damage from his shot.

His belief was vindicated by a glow of intense red from the infrared spectrum display of the Hellbringer. Engine hit! Des exulted.

The duel was over, and everybody watching knew it. All that remained was for Des to pick apart the Hellbringer at range, and for the Hellbringer to try to inflict as much damage on the Timber Wolf before it was destroyed.

The Hellbringer continued to close, its weapons blazing out hot death. Des stayed in the woods, relying on the cover of the trees to shield his mech. The Hellbringer moved sluggishly, its heat levels slowing it down, and Des hoped, affecting the targeting systems.

He trained his PPCs carefully on the Hellbringer, and the Hellbringer fired just as Des pressed down on his secondary TIC.

The slight rocking of the Timber Wolf told him the Hellbringer’s ultra autocannon had struck home, but those hits were mere pinpricks compared to the sheer devastation of his PPCs.

One PPC slashed into the left torso, completing the destruction of the engine components there and the array of lasers placed there, while the other bolt of lightning slammed into the right. As before, it shoved past the armor and penetrated to the internals.

Only difference this time, was that it lit off the store of LRM ammunition there. A gout of fire erupted out of the Hellbringer, as the once formidable omnimech crashed to the ground.

One down! Des tried to tell himself dispassionately in his mind, but he simply could not keep the gladness and joy away from his heart. I am now a warrior of the clan!

Furthermore, he had suffered negligible damage in this first duel. True, he owed it to some lucky shots, but Des also ascribed to the adage that a warrior produced his own luck.

Let me see how many mechs I can take down. Des licked his lips in eager anticipation as he jumped the Timber Wolf to a set of hills a hundred meters away in response to the Gargoyle bearing down on him.

 

Deserk was not as happy as his fellow cadet. In fact, he was in real trouble.

It had an innocuous hit by his first opponent, a series of cluster hits from the Mad Dog’s medium bore LBX autocannon.

Unfortunately, one such cluster had somehow found a chink in his Summoner’s armor, and gone in to damage the engine shielding. Which did not bode well for him at all.

Even worse for him was that his ultra autocannon had decided to jam on only his second burst.

“Freebirth!” Deserk yelled as the status light for the autocannon turned red. He reached for the controls, and started dumping the ammunition for the now useless weapon out of the mech, rather than letting it remain for a potentially fatal ammunition explosion.

Deserk backpedaled the Summoner away from the Mad Dog, firing his LRMs to force it at a distance. The Mad Dog seemed content to engage in a long range battle, relying on its LB-5X and ER PPC to chip away at the Summoner.

Deserk had only his own LRM-10 to serve as his reply, but he used them as best as he could, whittling down the Mad Dog’s defenses before his LRM ammo ran out. There was no way he was going to close in onto the Mad Dog with its 6 SRM-6 packs before he had damaged it as much as possible.

Both mechs danced around each other for long moments, exchanging relatively light weapons fire as they tried to get a lucky salvo in.

Deserk fired only when he was sure of a hit, but this also meant that the Mad Dog also had a better volume of fire, especially with the ER PPC.

That weapon could fire forever. Deserk snarled in frustration. And I cannot stay at long range when my LRMs run out either.

He ducked the Summoner down just in time to avoid another particle beam, then jumped out of the way, encouraging the Mad Dog to fire another shotgun cluster at the rapidly moving mech.

All or nothing. I cannot keep this up forever. Deserk thought to himself, then he decided to take a gamble. I have to close in, but stay just beyond the range of those SRM packs.

He moved the mech forward this time, but took care to halt at a hundred meters away, just short of the range envelope of the Mad Dog’s SRMs. He got lucky this time in that the Mad Dog simply stood where it was in a ‘stand and deliver’ posture, instead of closing to better use its missiles.

Deserk grinned at his small piece of fortune as he fired all his weapons. The streak system managed to get a lock first, sending six SRMs streaking towards the Mad Dog like sharks scenting blood. Three medium lasers followed, with only one hitting the Mad Dog, scarring the right arm armor.

The ‘fire and forget’ streak missiles had a much greater impact. Three of them exploded on the left arm, throwing off the Mad Dog’s shot with the autocannon on that arm. The rest chipped off armor all over his opponent.

What was surprising was the destination of the cluster rounds from the Mad Dog.

“Melee has been initiated.” The computer droned out as the shells hit a Dire Wolf in the rear.

Freebirth! Deserk cursed again.

 

Descartin jumped his Timber Wolf away from the Gargoyle, taking advantage of his greater mobility in the hilly terrain to stay at range and snipe at his opponent with a steady series of particle beams.

The Gargoyle was singularly unsuitable for such a battle, packing a fearsome array of medium lasers and a super heavy ultra autocannon that would tear apart Des’s mech if it ever got within range.

If it ever got within range, which Des was taking great pains to avoid. His tactic had paid great dividends, allowing him to slash away a huge chunk of the Gargoyle’s protection.

He would tease and bait the Gargoyle, forever trying to close in, but unable to because of Des’s ability to jump away just when it was in a position to corner him.

If they had been able to communicate, Des was sure the Gargoyle pilot would be cursing him over the comms with the vilest epithets in the clan vocabulary. Clan warriors, quite simply, do not use such hit and run dezgra tactics.

Their loss, Des remarked silently, as he ran the Timber Wolf down another hill, before spinning around quickly to target the pursuing Gargoyle, which had just crested the hill to skylight itself against the sky.

A perfect target.

Des thumbed his secondary TIC as soon as the targeting cursor glowed red, and sent two electric streams flying through the air towards the Gargoyle. One particle bolt sheared away more of the torso armor, while the other slashed into the damaged right leg, its fragile myomer already peaking out from the melted armor composite.

The Gargoyle staggered, and Des guessed that it had lost some actuators on that limb. That would definitely slow down the normally fast assault mech.

His opponent limped down the hill at a fraction of its former speed, while Des edged away slowly, knowing that there was no way the hobbled mech could keep up with the Timber Wolf, taking the time to place his aim squarely on the Gargoyle to ensure his shots hit.

Des waited impatiently for his PPCs to finish their recharging cycle, and fired them the second the weapons were ready. He intended to finish off the mech with this salvo, aiming his PPCs low to take out the Gargoyle’s legs.

One PPC shot missed, but the other did hit the Gargoyle again on its shattered right leg, burning its way through the thin layers of myomer and the structural steel alloy that formed the bones of a mech.

The Gargoyle crashed to the ground, and its pilot signaled defeat, leaving Des with almost untouched armor and a hunger for more targets.

Two down, one more to go, he told himself. Yet there was a whisper in his mind, urging him to initiate a melee, and go for four kills, which had never been accomplished before. He ignored the treacherous voice, focusing on the speck that was his next opponent.

Let me see now, Des thought as he shifted the Timber Wolf to face the Dire Wolf approaching him, close in, or stay far?

He toggled his sensors through all the mechs present, just to see how Deserk was doing. And he realized his sibmate was in trouble. The red glow from the Summoner’s engine, as well as the three opponents still remaining on Deserk’s side told him that much.

But he could not help Deserk, since they did not agree beforehand to allow each other to shoot their targets for four kills.

 

“Impressive, is it not?” Varro Drummond asked the tall woman standing beside him. “He had taken out two of his assigned opponents already, yet he had suffered little damage, and must be thinking of attaining his Star Captaincy.”

Oathmaster Biccon Winters grunted in response, her attention firmly fixed on the holotank showing the progress of the Trial of Position.

She replied, “His last opponent is no fool. Star Commander Gayle has a balanced loadout on her Dire Wolf which Cadet, neg, Star Commander Descartin will find difficult to exploit.”

They watched as the Timber Wolf moved to open the gap between the two mechs. Evidently, Descartin was seeking another long range duel.

However, the Dire Wolf could afford to play the same game. Gayle staked out a hilltop early on, and proceeded to just stay there and trade fire with the evading Timber Wolf.

The weight of weapons fire clearly favored the Dire Wolf, which had a staggering array of weapons to choose from. Four ER large lasers, two medium ultra autocannons, an LRM rack, and another four medium pulse lasers had earned it the fitting name of Daishi, or Great Death, in the Draconis Combine where it had appeared and fought with such devastating effect in their return to the Inner Sphere.

On their own, none of the Dire Wolf’s weapons were as hard hitting as the Timber Wolf’s dual ER PPCs, but they hammered Descartin relentlessly, a storm of metal and light that washed over the heavy omnimech wherever it went.

Descartin managed to keep his footing throughout the battle, despite his armor losses, replying with his own weapons, hitting more often than not. As she watched, Biccon silently agreed with Varro that Descartin was almost surely the finest warrior of his generation, even if he had a slight tendency to use dezgra tactics.

Out of nowhere, a burst of cluster rounds suddenly struck the Dire Wolf. The damage was negligible, but according to the rules of the clan, whenever a mech that was not involved in the present battle, or a mech that was assigned to the other candidate was hit, the Trial would turn into a melee.

The battlefield suddenly fell silent as everybody tried to digest this new development.

Then the Timber Wolf started sprinting for the Mad Dog that was about to cripple Cadet Deserk’s Summoner.

“What is he doing?” Varro leaned forward, trying to analyze the Timber Wolf’s movement.

“I believe he is taking advantage. Maybe we shall see one candidate achieve four kills today.” Biccon answered coolly.

 

Deserk tried to move his mech away from the Mad Dog when it dashed forward, but to no avail.

The massed ranks of SRM launchers burst in gouts of fire as 36 SRMs were launched towards the Summoner.

Round after SRM round hit the Summoner, tossing Deserk around in his cockpit like a rag doll with the impacts. His head rang incessantly with SRM hits on the mech’s cockpit, and by the time the fourth missile hit, he knew no more.

 

The Timber Wolf sprinted in its trademark half leaping, half prowling style towards the duel about to be concluded. Descartin hoped he would get there in time.

Since a melee had been initiated, he could interfere in the other duel without any loss of honor. It was truly a lucky break.

He was not so sure his mech could stand up to much more punishment, though. The Dire Wolf had stood and slugged it out with him, pitting its formidable armor against his mobility. In the end, Des had inflicted more damage, but it still did not close the protection gap.

The Timber Wolf’s torso was stripped bare of armor, on both the front and the back. The legs had some semblance of armor left, while the arms are almost barren of ferro-fibrous material.

Des saw the Mad Dog about to deliver the coup de grace to the unmoving Summoner, moving in and aiming its PPC at the head. The mechwarrior quickly leveled his own PPCs and fired.

Both shots missed, but they did pass by the forward leaning portion of the Mad Dog, causing it to draw up short in surprise. The Mad Dog quickly twisted its torso around, and fired its cluster autocannon.

Des braced himself consciously for the hit, the damage screen tracing out new red areas on the profile of the Timber Wolf as the mech shuddered with the impacts.

The Timber Wolf shook off the hits, and dashed into range of Des’s medium lasers, firing them for the first time in the battle. The Mad Dog was pummeled by at least three hits, but was still more than capable of dealing extreme harm on the Timber Wolf.

Meanwhile, Des could see the Dire Wolf chasing him doggedly, intent on finishing their battle. Not that Des had any intention to abandon that duel, but he had other things on his mind.

Conscious of the risk he was taking, Des slipped his Timber Wolf between the Mad Dog and Deserk’s still unmoving Summoner. He mixed his weapons this time, configuring his quaternary TIC on the fly to enable him to fire one PPC and three medium lasers in one sequence.

Des had never expected to get into a situation where he would need both the striking power of a PPC and the tandem shot effect of the medium lasers. Configuring his TIC during the battle itself would take some time, time which he desperately needed if he was to defeat the Mad Dog before the Dire Wolf got within range of its own heavy array of guns.

It was simply a brutal slugging match between the Mad Dog and the Timber Wolf now, a matter of who would get in the more telling hit as they stood and blasted away. There were no thoughts of evading, no flinching from the fire.

For twenty long seconds they pitted their firepower at each other, the Mad Dog forgoing the use of its SRMs by refusing to close in and allow the Timber Wolf a highly advantageous alpha strike with its full energy complement, while Des on his part was more than wary of exposing his mech to the devastating SRM salvos.

He kept a part of his attention on his rear screens, however, waiting for the any motion on the part of the Summoner.

This time, the weight of fire favored the Timber Wolf, but one arm was soon shot away by the Mad Dog’s own PPC.

Des got back by blowing away one entire torso of the Mad Dog, which severely hampered its ability to fight back, especially with the loss of the PPC.

Then the Dire Wolf finally managed to crest the last hill, and as his alarms started blaring with warnings of massed target locks, Des saw the Summoner stir with a twitch of its arms.

All or nothing now! This should do it! He decided as he fired his primary TIC, seeking to put down the Mad Dog once and for all. PPCs and medium lasers stabbed out towards the Mad Dog, puncturing into its various locations and more importantly, cutting apart the engine shielding of the omnimechs.

That was the last thing he did when the shape of the Dire Wolf spewed out a wave of destruction, just after a salvo of laser bursts spat out from the Summoner behind him.

He felt the Summoner’s lasers hit first, but he knew he had already attained the rank of Star Captain when the Mad Dog exploded in a gout of fusion flame as its engine went critical. Star Captain Descartin grasped his seat’s ejection handle, and pulled hard.

 

Deserk came to groggily in his cockpit, his head lying on the half-shattered controls. He looked up into the HUD through bleary eyes to see the vague shape of a mech with its rear facing him.

I want to be a warrior. I have to be a warrior! It was an opportunity. He urged his shaking hands to grip the firing studs, only to discover that his LRM launcher was destroyed, leaving only his lasers and Streak SRM pack.

They should be sufficient, his befuddled mind told him as he fired them at the mech. The shape of the mech collapsed, and an ejection seat could be seen flying away from the shattered hulk.

A full second passed before he realized that the mech was Descartin’s Timber Wolf.

“Freebirth!” He muttered before he recovered enough to pull on his own ejection handle as the Dire Wolf turned toward shim, with all its prodigious firepower.

He wondered how much time he would have to enjoy being a warrior before Descartin killed him.

 

It was shamefaced Deserk who accepted the daggerstar designation of a mechwarrior from Varro Drummond in a short and perfunctory ceremony in the mechbay of the base. The entire sibko was there, celebrating as they had achieved the impossible.

Full graduation for an entire testing cohort.

Never had such a feat been accomplished, and as usual, the attention was all on Descartin for his three kills, and probably four, or even five if he had not lost his senses and gone for a slugging match with the Mad Dog. Star Commander Jovre was haranguing him for his uncharacteristic lack of tactical sense, Warrior Lintya was trying to defend a bemused Descartin from Jovre’s scathing analysis, while Star Commander Petra was excitedly describing her own Trial to Warrior Ori.

Deserk was too ashamed to face Descartin, and there was more than a bit of fear that Des would kill him for betraying the implicit trust between sibkin.

Then Descartin walked towards him with a what seemed to be a sinister smile on his face, and Deserk felt his stomach tighten up with fear.

“Listen to me! It was a simple mistake! I did not mean it!” Deserk shouted in defense, holding up his hands to ward off the anticipatory blow from Des.

He was more than a bit confused when Des burst out laughing.

“Of course I knew you were going to fire! That is why I showed you my rear in the first place!” Des said with a huge grin.

“Huh?”

“I was less than confident of defeating the Dire Wolf, so instead I decided to take advantage by destroying your opponent, the Mad Dog.”

That did not sound right to Deserk. He suddenly realized what Des was doing in the battle ROMs when the Mad Dog had been about to finish him off, in a flash of inspiration.

“You actually saved my life, and my career, by taking out the Mad Dog!” Deserk exclaimed. “Do not deny it. You were not doing it for yourself, but for me. What ever possessed you to do that?”

Des sighed, “I just want everybody to get through. It was not completely altruistic, as I have said, since the Mad Dog was a easier opponent than the Dire Wolf.”

“But you could have finished me off first, then concentrated on the Mad Dog without having to stand in place. You could have ended up with four kills, and maybe five by destroying the Dire Wolf!”

“Maybe, but I do not think that is important.” Des’s eyes blazed with conviction. “Killing four mechs might win me a high position, maybe a Star Colonelcy. But that would have left the clan short of one capable warrior.” He looked at Deserk.

Deserk shook his head. “Capable? I could not even defeat a Mad Dog in a heavier mech!”

“Pure bad luck. Anyone who saw the record would have agreed with me. None of that was your fault. In fact, if you had not done enough damage to the Mad Dog, I would not have had the third kill either.”

“But your chance to make legend…”

“Warrior Deserk is right, Star Captain.” A voice suddenly broke in from the side. The two warriors turned to see Oathmaster Biccon Winters.

“Oathmaster.” They greeted her by bowing their heads slightly.

She continued. “I had just received word from Khan Severen Leroux that Natasha Kerensky of Clan Wolf had just killed four mechs in her Trial of Position. If only you had done the same, we would be able to claim that their bloodnamed warrior is only the equal of one of our cadets.”

Descartin bowed again in apology. “I am sorry for failing the clan.”

Biccon’s mouth twitched at the sides. “You have not failed, although some may certainly see it as such. But you sacrificed your chance at greater glory for your sibkin to progress, and that is a rare trait indeed.”

Deserk and Des looked at each other. Des admitted, “I thought it would be for the greater good of the clan.”

“If only more warriors thought that way.” Biccon commented dryly. “In any case, I suppose I might as well give you your new assignments now, since you are both going to the same unit.”

“Star Captain Descartin,, Warrior Deserk,” both men straightened their shoulders to stand at attention, “you have both been assigned to the 449^th Assault Cluster, Alpha Galaxy, under the command of Star Colonel Thadeus Nostra. You will report to him tomorrow morning at 1100 hrs at Vision Seeker Base.”

“Aff, Oathmaster.” They answered in unison. There were hints of happiness on their faces, since they both knew Alpha Galaxy was the cream of the clan’s touman, and will surely participate in the return to the Inner Sphere.

“Good. Meanwhile, enjoy your last night here. I doubt you will ever come back here again.”

“Aff.” They answered again as she walked off.

“So what now? We have a whole night to relax, quiaff?” Deserk asked.

“Aff, but let us go look for our vineers first.” Descartin smiled. “Of course, you can have a piece of my Timber Wolf, or what is left of it!”

An exasperated Deserk could only sigh at that. He had a feeling Descartin would be needling him about this affair for a long, long time.