Drop Zone Theta,

Einstein, Deep Periphery

12^th March 3068

 

Shifting around in his couch to get himself into a more comfortable position, Descartin Winters fired off a message to Frank and the other warriors.

“Frank, Deserk, leave the bargaining to me. There are too many of them for you to take on. Even if you win, it will be a Pyrrhic victory at best. I will try to get it down to a lance or star level fight, one which we have a better chance of winning. Another thing, get your remaining combat vehicles out. I will need them as insurance.”

Without waiting for their replies, he opened a channel to the to the Turkina now facing him and the rest of the Raiders. The assault mech was backed up by a whole trinary of omnimechs, all painted bright green with the Jade Falcon insignia riding high on their shoulders.

The way the Falcons moved had him really worried. They ran gracefully, in a style that only elite warriors could achieve after years of practice. He knew his own mech piloting had often been described in the same manner, but he really could not say the same for the other warriors of the Raiders.

If it came down to an all-out fight, the Raiders would be massacred.

He had to cut down on the forces participating in the trial. With luck, he could use the old ‘waste’ argument to get the fight down to a five on five battle, or even better, himself against Star Colonel Colbert Icaza. As good as the Falcon officer was, Descartin had never lost to anyone in single combat, especially when he started out in a fresh mech.

Not counting that stravag Archer on Luthien fifteen years back, of course.

“Star Colonel Colbert Icaza, this is Star Captain Descartin Winters, of Clan Goliath Scorpion,” Des used the formal, stilted speech favored by most clansmen, “I am willing to fight you, but I need to ask you a question first. Are you true to the ways of the clans?”

He was met immediately by a sputtering Colbert. “Have the toxins you Scorpions ingest gone to your head? I am loyal to the way of the clans!”

“Then why have you sent so many warriors just to gain possession of one simple machine?” Descartin asked slyly. “We of the clans abhor waste. By sending so many omnimechs to contest our claim, you are wasting precious resources of the clans!”

Before Icaza could get a word in, Des spoke again. “To help you reduce waste, I hereby bid myself and four other mechs to defend the key machine we have just uncovered. Will you accept?” He left just a slight hint of disdain in his voice, as if doubting the honor of the Jade Falcon in accepting the challenge.

Descartin’s plan was actually very simple. Goad the Falcons into a limited engagement, one in which the Raiders have a good chance of winning. After that, they would end up with a slight mech advantage, which would discourage the remaining binary of mechs from issuing another challenge. If they actually decided to challenge again, then Des would just throw zellbrigen out the window and use the full force of the Raiders, backed up by their remaining ground vehicles, against the Falcons. The point here was to buy time and hopefully conserve their mechs.

 

Star Colonel Colbert Icaza, not for the first time, wondered at the Galaxy Commander’s sanity in her latest orders.

After thrashing a heavy armor unit two days before, he had been instructed to proceed to Site Theta to wait for the mercenaries off the Nile to recover the last key machine. Once they had accomplished that, he was to challenge them immediately, and lose, granting them the last key machine.

Orders were explicit concerning his mechs. Any heavily damaged mech was to pull out rather than risk having it fall into the hands of the lucre warriors. Even with the salvage they were recovering from the battlefields, their supply of omnimechs were running low. His unit had been one of the few intact ones, while retrofitted Inner Sphere mechs were beginning to appear in the Galaxy’s patchwork TO&E.

He had not expected the battle between the mercs to occur, and his deployment was based on facing the Raiders at their full strength, not after they had already been hammered by the crazed Ragged Ones. He knew there was something very strange in the way the Ragged Ones had fought, but it was best to let the scientists handle such matters.

The offer Descartin Winters had made was a godsend. He could in good faith commit only a star of mechs, and minimize the amount of damage his forces will suffer in their loss. He was to lose, but also lose convincingly, and bleed the Raiders in doing so. A limited engagement was really the best way to fulfill his orders.

“Your offer is quite reasonable.” He answered after a short pause. “Very well, I shall fight five warriors of your choosing right here, right now. I bid myself, Star Commander Turic Helmer in a Black Lanner, Mechwarrior Veryn in a Cougar, Mechwarrior Wimo in a Hellbringer, and Mechwarrior Krantel in a Viper.”

 

Well, it was good that Icaza had accepted the bid. But no matter how Des cut it, the Raider detachment would be hurt. The Jade Falcon force had superior mobility, which was backed up by elite warriors. The Raiders would not have the advantage of numbers this time, and must contend with superior technology and elite enemy mechwarriors.

He came to a decision. “I shall oppose you with myself, Captain Frank in a Night Gyr, Star Commander Jean Posavatz in a Stormcrow, Mechwarrior Yoshino in a Huntsman, and Mechwarrior Deserk in a Nova.”

Frank’s Night Gyr was still missing much of its armor, while Deserk’s Nova had been battered during his duel with the Blackjack. Tonnage wise they had a ten ton advantage, but it was easily negated by the Falcon’s edge in skill.

It had been an agonizing decision between Frank, Gerhard, Kety, and Qing, but Descartin had decided to go with his gut feeling. Frank might not be as experienced as the others, but Gerhard would probably push his mech too hard, too fast, while Kety would be outmatched in his Gallowglas, no matter how good he was. Qing’s Summoner was still showing signs of damage from the previous two battles, and was in an even worse shape than Frank’s mech. No, Frank was his best choice.

Des knew that Deserk and Yoshino could hold their own against almost anyone from the clans, while Jean was a Bloodnamed warrior, which placed her among the elite of the elite. The odds were still slightly stacked against them, but with some strategic pairing off, he could get a win.

What did the ancient sage Sun-Tzu say? Match the best horse against a moderate one, and the moderate one against a lesser, and so on? Descartin hoped he had gotten the match-ups correctly.

“Bargained well and done.” Colbert’s answer came over the headphones in his neurohelmet. Almost immediately, Des could see the five clan mechs advancing forward with the massive Turkina leading them, its low slung body gliding past the terrain. They were gradually splitting up, obviously bent on zellbrigen.

Very well, I guess we will just have to oblige them. Des gave out his own orders. “Jean, take the Hellbringer! Deserk, get the Cougar. Yoshino, you have the Viper. Frank, engage the Black Lanner at long range, and keep it there for as long as possible! I want you to hang on long enough for us to finish our own duels. I will not bullshit you. That is a Bloodnamed warrior you are fighting, and that effectively places him within the top five percent of warriors in the whole bleeding galaxy. You will lose, but hold it long enough for us to finish our own duels! I will tell you when it is time to disengage.”

“Roger that.” Frank did not entirely convinced, however. “No guarantees, but I’ll try. You guys had better step it up!”

With that, the five mechs of the Raiders went into action. As he moved his Nova Cat, Des noticed water droplets on his front HUD.

It was beginning to rain.

 

Deserk grimaced as his Black Hawk landed awkwardly after a jump. The Cougar had fired its autocannon at the apex of his jump, and it had been by pure luck that he managed to maintain his balance as the Black Hawk landed. The accompanying large laser beam had missed the legs of his mech by inches, zinging off into the clouds above.

The sky was pouring buckets of water on the combatants.

He took a moment to swing his twin PPCs in line with the Falcon mech. The water on his HUD was degrading his visibility, but sure of his targeting, he thumbed his triggers, sending two lightning bolts flashing out of the long barrels on the Black Hawk’s arms.

The Cougar seemed to have anticipated his shot, and managed to twist away in time to avoid one of the particle bolts. Pivoting on one leg, it ran its entire torso past the other PPC bolt, which sent one long jagged line on the armor. Blooms of steam bellowed from the wound as water was flash-boiled by the initial attack and subsequent rain hit the hot armor.

The Cougar finished its graceful turn and responded with a full spread of SRMs. The powerful warheads slammed all over his mech, crushing armor and giving Deserk a good shaking.

Keeping a steady hand on his control stick and stepping lightly on his foot pedals, Deserk kept the Black Hawk upright and sent another dual PPC salvo at the Cougar.

This time, both streams of electrons hit, devouring armor on the legs of the clan mech. The pilot did not seem too distressed by the hit, and fired all his weapons at Deserk.

Deserk was already reacting, working the foot pedals as he leaned the Black Hawk to the left and engaging his jump jets once he saw the many weapons ports of the Cougar flash. The laser beam caught the Hawk in its right arm, while some missiles nibbled away at its right leg. The autocannon burst passed just below the flames of the jets, while the other missiles sent huge clods of wet soil flying up into the air .

Zellbrigen was completely different from a normal general engagement. In a normal battle, warriors were often too busy trying to stay appraised of the tactical situation to try any fancy moves. In zellbrigen, where it was strictly a one-to-one fight, there was no overall battle situation to distract the pilot. Evasive moves and reaction times, as well as shot grouping ability, become paramount in such dueling battles.

Though it had been years since Deserk had been involved in a real mech duel, he had managed to keep up using the simulators on Outreach. The Wolf Dragoons, due to their clan past, had never forgot the skills that one-on-one dueling could impart. Skills that were coming into play now for Deserk.

As his mech flew into the air, Deserk triggered his pulse laser, sending a long line of laser darts stitching up the Cougar’s arm.

Unfazed, the Cougar continued to close the range, as it had the better short range weapons. It  was lighter than the Black Hawk, but actually outgunned the medium mech due to the use of endo-steel and ferro-fibrous armor in its construction, which the Black Hawk lacked. The Falcon scientists had outdone themselves this time.

Deserk feathered his jets, trying to maximize his jump distance before directing the last of the jump charge to his right leg, spinning the Black Hawk around in the air before it came down facing the Cougar. One leg nearly slipped on the wet soil, but Deserk managed to get it under control before he lost his entire footing.

One last exchange, Deserk told himself. The Black Hawk had lost all the armor on the arms, and was almost shorn of armor over the torso. He could not afford another laser or autocannon strike to these areas. He had to put down the Cougar with the next exchange, or his mech would be going down as well.

Uttering a quick prayer to the Kerenskys, Deserk unleashed an alpha strike at the Cougar. His heat levels shot up immediately, the total heat output from the combined weapons fire and the jump earlier too much for even the double strength freezers of the mech to dissipate. He could not see a thing on his screens as the steam issuing from his  raging heat sinks overwhelmed the sensors, both visible and infrared. It was so fast that he could not even see whether his weapons had hit the target. Moving the mech on sheer instinct, he waited for the internal heat to subside to a more reasonable levels, and more importantly, for the screens to clear before considering his next move.

He need not have bothered. A female voice came over his headset. It sounded dejected.

“This is Mechwarrior Veryn. I request hegira.”

Deserk did not hesitate. “Hegira granted. You have fought honorably and well.”

“Have I? I have lost to a filthy freebirth, a lucre warrior, and likely my chance at a Bloodname as well. How could it be honorable?”

Deserk smiled behind his neurohelmet. ”In fact, I am abtakha to the Wolf Dragoons. I was once Nova Cat. I gained my victory with a mech fifteen tons heavier. There is no shame. You have done your best, and sometimes that is all a warrior can hope for. You have your future ahead of you. A Bloodname is not the end all and be all in this world. Do not dwell too long on this defeat. Take it as free advice from a near solahma!” He barked out a laugh.

Deserk knew that he should not have given the enemy warrior any encouragement, but he remembered when he had been on the losing end in the past. It was simply advice to keep your head up, and concentrate on the next day. Clan warriors had a bad habit of sinking into a deep funk whenever they lost. As much as that would have benefited the mercs as a whole, Deserk as a matter of principle liked to face his enemies straight on, with everybody at top form. It was an inborn sense of honor, of chivalry that he had never lost, even in the Inner Sphere.

“Thank you. Your words contain wisdom, and perhaps I shall ponder them later. Do not forget that we will still crush you in the end.” The natural Falcon arrogance was seeping through again.

“I will not forget.” He grinned again, as he saw through the gradually thinning mist a Cougar limping away with one torso shot off and one leg with almost all its myomer missing. Maybe he should start a training school of his own when they returned to Outreach…

 

Star Commander Jean Posavatz cursed Descartin Winters for the umpteenth time in her cockpit. That was just about the only place she could do that without one of the Seeker’s retinue snitching on her. Her Stormcrow staggered in the rain as a PPC blast removed most of the armor on her right arm.

A year ago, she had been serving contentedly on Roche, guarding the Temple of the Nine Muses with Gamma Galaxy. Then one Star Captain had appeared out of nowhere and challenged her to a Trial of Possession for herself and her mech.

She had thought she was good, maybe even among the best twenty mechwarriors in the clan, but the level of skill that Descartin Winters exhibited was extraordinary. She had been blown out of her mech in just under thirty seconds. Bloodnamed warriors are not supposed to lose fights in less than a minute, even against another Bloodnamed warrior. She had felt humiliated, even after Khan Ariel Suvorov had personally approved the Trial and congratulated her on her plum new Seeker assignment.

Plum? Hah! Mixing with Inner Sphere money warriors was hardly an honorable assignment. Maybe the mission itself would bear great dividends for the clan, but did it really require them to ally with these filthy freebirths?

She threw the Stormcrow into a turn, closing on the enemy Hellbringer all the time in a tightening spiral. Lowering her mech’s shoulders at times and feinting with various false head actions had the Falcon pilot confused as to her true intentions. It also threw off the enemy’s aim at times.

It was all very simple for her, actually. Her Stormcrow packed a class 20 ultra autocannon backed by an array of six medium lasers. All she had to do was to survive getting in close. Then the duel would be over.

The Falcon pilot was not stupid either, and was trying to back away from the Stormcrow’s lethal autocannon. Unfortunately for the Falcon pilot, the Stormcrow was almost one hundred percent faster than the Hellbringer when one is running and the other just walking.

It was another ten seconds before Jean got within three hundred meters of the Falcon omnimech. Meanwhile, she had endured almost another full salvo of weapons fire from the Hellbringer, which was throwing off great gouts of steam as it worked to get rid of the excess heat. The sluggish movement of the mech told Jean that it was close to shutdown.

She lazily drifted the targeting reticule over the Hellbringer, and loosed everything she had at the enemy mech.

The results were impressive, to say the least. The thin armor of the Hellbringer simply collapsed under the storm of metal Jean spat out, while the three lasers that hit completed the job.

In the falling rain, Jean saw the enemy pilot eject as the Hellbringer exploded when its engine went critical. She pitied the poor warrior. It was never a good idea to eject in such wet conditions. The Falcon was lucky there was not a single pathogen on the entire planet. As good as clan medical technology was, they had yet to cure the common cold.

One down, plenty more to go. Jean found herself wishing that she had taken one more swig of necrosia in the morning as she marched her mech to the next nearest duel.

 

The Huntsman moved swiftly to one side as a flight of missiles dug into the ground it had just exited. It replied with two pulse laser bursts, the darts tracking through the air, one stream making its way past the pouring rain to hit the rapidly evading Viper on its left leg.

Yoshino Ihara had originally been destined for a life of service in the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery, but the Nova Cats had come a-calling on Avon while he was on leave from the Sun Zhang Mechwarrior Academy before his assignment to the Dieron Regulars.

He took his family’s hereditary Atlas out to oppose the invading forces, and had managed to destroy two enemy mechs, a light Kit Fox and a medium Stormcrow before falling to Descartin in his Timber Wolf.

When Yoshino woke up in a hospital two days later, he found the clanner patiently waiting beside his bed. Des made him a bondsman on the spot. Yoshino remembered laughing right into Descartin’s face.

He had not cared what they thought of him at the time though. Disgraced, he had tried to commit seppuku, but Descartin and Deserk somehow found out about it, and they stopped him just as he was to plunge the blade into his own belly. That was followed by a messy brawl, and in the end Descartin managed to convince him to live on, and suggested that there might be other roads of honor to take.

Fifteen years on, Yoshino had gained an appreciation for clan ways, but he would always remain an outsider. After their ‘stay’ with the Ghost Bears, he had pledged his fealty to Descartin, though the clanner had laughed out loud when told of this. In the end, he had accepted just to prevent Yoshino from considering himself ronin, a warrior without a lord.

Yoshino had followed Descartin on his journeys through the clans since then, always ready to back up the other warrior. He realized he had slid into the role of Toto to Descartin’s Lone Ranger, but never mentioned it because the clanner would not have recognized the cultural reference anyway.

Des had offered him several opportunities to return to the Inner Sphere, but Yoshino had refused every time. While he had hailed from a mechwarrior family, his parents had been killed in battle when he was about to graduate. He sworn revenge against the pirates who had done the foul deed, or more specifically, Vance Rezak. That was one reason for his decision to stay alive instead of slitting his own belly.

The family estates he owned as a minor noble were untouched by the new governors under Clan Nova Cat, and were presumably still his, as long as he was still alive. The combined actions the Star League carried out against the Smoke Jaguars and the migration of the Nova Cats to the Inner Sphere had put Avon back into Draconis Combine space. The money from the estates were perhaps the only reason he had for going back, which in turn was outweighed easily by his obligations to his chosen lord.

As he crouched the Huntsman down to present a smaller targeting profile for the enemy mech, he knew that he had learnt more about mech combat and tactics with the clans than if he had stayed with the DCMS. At one point, when they were with the Cloud Cobras, Des was even a Star Colonel, and he was a Star Captain! Lofty rank for someone from the Inner Sphere! The Cobras had put them in charge of an OPFOR unit to hone the skills of the other Adder warriors against Inner Sphere tactics. Strangely, it was not long before they were ‘traded’ to the Coyotes in a mock Trial for some reason Des never bothered to tell him. Not that it mattered anyway.

One day he would seek his revenge on Vance Rezak, but at the moment, he figured he could do humanity a service by aiding Des Winters. There was a sense of destiny swirling around the man that Yoshino could perceive. The only other person he had met with such an aura was Frank Meronac, and Yoshino had yet to puzzle out his true purpose.

As the Huntsman was rocked by missile which had managed to get through the anti-missile defense system of the mech, two laser blasts sizzled past above his cockpit. If Yoshino had not crouched the mech when he did, the shots would have skewered the cockpit and there would not have been enough of him left to fill a test tube.

He purposely fired his medium laser to the right of the Viper, bringing up the enemy mech short as it veered to that side, then followed up with another large pulse laser burst that tracked unsuccessfully between the Viper’s legs as the Falcon pilot feathered his jets just enough to avoid the shot. Yoshino continued on his march to his own right, maintaining his own distance from the clan pilot.

The two elite warriors had been dancing around each other for more than four long minutes now, stabbing and feinting at medium and long range with their weapons. The Viper pilot was a marginally better shot than Yoshino, but the armor of the Huntsman was quite a bit thicker than the Viper. The Viper also had a much, much, better movement rate.

Weapons wise Yoshino had the advantage, his configured twin large pulse lasers giving him excellent hit ratios, while two Streak SRM-6 packs promised great pain for anyone who closed in. A medium laser was tacked onto the left torso as an afterthought, while the AMS provided point blank defense against missile attack. From what he had gleaned from his readings, and the blurred outlines of the Viper, the enemy mech mounted a LRM-10 rack and an extended range large laser, ideal weapons for fighting at range. It was an even match in battlefield terms.

The rain was wrecking havoc with their visible sensors, while the Model Ones Mark Ones, or more simply their eyes, were next to useless in such conditions. Infrared mode works best in such circumstances, but the downpour was affecting the missile flight trajectories. Yoshino even had some of his streak SRMs missing the target when there was once an opportunity to exchange close range fire.

The Falcon pilot did not seem to have such difficulties, slowly shaving armor off the Huntsman with his laser and missiles. That was often negated by Yoshino’s use of his large pulse lasers, arguably the best weapon for dealing with fast moving mechs at range.

Yoshino triggered his jets, angling for a position on a small hill nearby, where he could employ his pulse lasers more effectively. The Viper responded by jumping further away, where his pulse lasers could not hit. Yoshino, having anticipated such a move, changed his path in mid jump to land within range of his weapons, only to meet another hail of missiles from the clanner.

The AMS clawed away five of the missiles as the gatling gun used up the last of its ammo. The remaining missiles chewed into his left torso, breaching the armor there. A large laser blast melted the last of his center torso armor, and went to work on some of the internal structure. Thankfully for Yoshino, there was no component damage.

Yoshino had fired his own pulse lasers at the Viper as he landed, and both shots hit. There was a sudden explosion as one ruby burst finally penetrated the Viper’s left torso and set off the LRM ammo in that location. The Viper staggered as it lost not only the entire side torso, but also the left arm as well. In a remarkable show of skill and determination, the Falcon not only maintained his consciousness when others would have collapsed from the neural feedback, but also kept the mech on its feet.

The mech remained where it was, the pilot trying to shake off the shock from the ammo explosion. Yoshino found himself wincing in sympathy. He had been on the receiving end of an ammo explosion before.

The battle was over. Yoshino opened a channel to the Falcon pilot.

“Do you wish hegira?”

A breathless voice, tinged with obvious pain, replied, “Aff. Hegira it shall be.”

 

Frank Meronac knew when he was outclassed. And this was definitely it.

After three minutes of action, he had only managed to score three hits on the Black Lanner, while the clanner had destroyed his left arm and all the armor on his legs. The Night Gyr was now hobbling around with its leg actuators on the right leg all shot up, and even the jump jets were out of commission.

He had no illusions about his ability. While he had scored seven kills so far in the campaign, all came through plain luck and superior technology. They had also mostly occurred at short range, where even the greenest warrior could hit his targets and score kills.

This Falcon was smarter than most, and he seemed to know he was facing a weak opponent. He hung at the limits of his PPC’s range, moving constantly to throw off Frank’s aim, and lashing out with his PPC to send armor on the Night Gyr into ruin. Frank had tried jumping constantly away from the clanner to reduce the number of hits he was suffering, but it had proven to be useless. The enemy pilot was a damn good shot.

Actually, Frank wasn’t so bad himself. He would never have graduated from the Dragoon’s Outreach Mercenary Training Command Basic Mech Instruction Course otherwise. He had wanted to go for advanced instruction which included dueling and tactical training, but his funds had run out by then. He had tried working at the University of Outreach Hospital to raise more cash, but the pay was mediocre and would not do anything to improve his combat skills. On the advice of his instructors, he took the job with the Raiders.

His instructors had recognized his raw ability, but he was told that experience, the one thing that separated rookies from the veterans, could only be gained on the field of battle.

And he knew that experience, more than anything else, was the difference between the Black Lanner pilot and him. He had only been a mechwarrior for less than a year!

As he dragged the Night Gyr further away from the enemy mech, Frank fired off a large laser blast, more to keep the clanner away than to score a hit. The Black Lanner did not care, however, and continued to snipe at him with the PPC. It had not even utilized the LRM-20 rack yet!

The electron beam plunged into the left torso, melting internal structure. Two of the large lasers mounted there slumped in their mounts, rendered useless by the negatively charged leptons.

For ten more seconds, Frank tried to evade the deadly accurate shooting of the clanner. He had the distinct feeling the clanner was toying with him, and wanted the Night Gyr in repairable condition.

All of a sudden, it launched its LRMs in one volley, the missiles angling for his mech in the heavy rain. Frank tried to move out of the way, but his damaged actuators had made him about as mobile as a rock.

The missiles went in all over the mech, destroying engine shielding on the left torso and claiming several heat sinks on the right. More importantly, they finally snapped the ‘bone’ holding up the right leg.

As the Night Gyr collapsed to the ground, Frank heard the most welcome words he had ever heard in his short mechwarrrior career.

“Frank, this is Descartin! Punch out!”

Frank did not need the instructions to be repeated. Putting his hands to the side of his couch, where the ejection ring was located, he pulled hard. The top of the cockpit burst open, and he was flung out into the air while the Night Gyr was still falling to the ground.

He was immediately assailed by the rain drops falling pell mell from the sky, a battering force as the couch struggled to gain altitude aginst the rain. He did not wait to reach the apex of the flight path, and quickly pulled out his parachute. The chute opened up as the couch started descending, and he hit the wet, soft ground moments later.

As he pulled himself free from the parachute, he saw the Black Lanner heading towards the other mechs.

 

Des did not take long to finish his fight. As Jean Posavatz could attest, it was impossible to beat the elite warrior in a purely one on one battle.

The moment the Turkina came into range, Des fired his PPCs and large pulse laser into its left leg while he charged forward. The clanner replied with his twin gauss rifles and a full spread of long range missiles, leaving the Nova Cat with less than half of its armor left.

Des was not worried about his lack of protection. In his one attack, he had already destroyed all the armor on the Turkina’s left leg. He was determined that the next exchange of weapons fire would put the Turkina down for good.

To Star Colonel Colbert Icaza’s credit, he knew it too, and he lifted off on his jump jets. Using his jets to turn the mech quickly, he tried to shield his wounded leg from Des’ deadly marksmanship.

It was to no avail. Just before the leg was completely shielded by the undamaged right leg, Des triggered another salvo of PPC and laser fire at the exposed leg.

This time, the Turkina’s leg was broken cleanly through the upper thigh, and Colbert, unable to balance his jets properly to compensate for the loss of so much structure, crashed to the ground.

As the Turkina struggled to lever itself off the ground with one massive arm, Des marched the Nova Cat up beside it, and without a word kicked out at the supporting arm.

The Falcon mech crashed back to the ground. Des coldly aimed his weapons over the arm he had kicked, and burned it off completely. The Turkina was now helpless.

Des did not even bother to contact Icaza. No communication was required for the man to know he had lost utterly, within the short space of twenty seconds.

Checking his status screens, Des moved his mech to a nearby rise in the ground, where he could observe Frank’s duel.

As the other warriors reported in with their own successes, Des held off from telling Frank to bail out. He wanted the other warrior to win on his own, even though it was highly unlikely. Once the Night Gyr lost its leg, however, Des got Frank to eject. With four warriors against the single Falcon left, the result was a foregone conclusion.

“Star Commander Turic Helmer, please surrender.” He informed the Falcon. “Your compatriots have been defeated, and you are all that is left, against four of us. Victory is impossible. I shall grant you hegira.”

The Black Lanner stood impassively for several long moments, before the reply came.

“Aff. Your offer is accepted. We have lost, and there is no need to waste a mech in fruitless combat. It is far better to have my machine repaired, and return to fight you on more even footing the next time.”

The Black Lanner begun to retreat, while three of the Falcon omnimechs moved forward to drag their Star Colonel’s helpless Turkina back to their camp. Des allowed them to go. There would be more opportunity for salvage later. Besides, the Raiders were going to have trouble just repairing what they presently had!

 

“Sorry, Frank. It’s gonna take quite a while to construct a new leg and arm for the Night Gyr. We are thinking of cannibalizing one of the Marauder’s legs. That will require quite a lot of work, as we need to convert the chicken leg to a normal manwalker type.” Denilson talked while he was busy running a diagnostic on that very same Marauder leg.

“No problem. Any other mech I could drive in the meantime?” Frank was anxious about having a ride. Any mech would do, as it was far better than to stay exposed on the ground in case of another battle.

“Well, there’s the Mad Cat, but it’s also missing a leg. It’s your choice. You want the Marauder leg for the Mad Cat or the Night Gyr?”

“Put it on the Night Gyr. I’m used to that mech now. I can’t afford the time to get used to another mech.”

“Wilco, boss. In the meantime, there’s the Jagermech that needs only a new head. It should be operational by tomorrow. You can take it for the time being.” Denilson turned his full attention back to his work, while Frank went to look for Lorik to see if the scientist had found anything behind the Ragged Ones’ attack.

True to their word, the Falcons had left the final key machine to the Raiders. The Raiders had also searched the caves the Ragged Ones had hid in, and found a store of special autocannon ammunition, as well as more supplies for their dropship and mechs.

As he entered the cargo bay Lorik had appropriated as ‘his research lab’, he was struck by the sight of the four key machines hooked up together, with countless wires running between them and a computer Lorik was working at.

The elemental raised his head as Frank entered.

“Ah, Frank! When are we going to lift?”

“It’ll be a while yet. I suggested, and everybody agrees, that we had better get everything squared away before we go to our next location. I want to go in the next time with our mechs at top condition, not half dead like today.” Frank sighed. “We nearly got wiped out there just now.”

“Well, that’s good news for me, because I’ve just figured out how the machines work, and what happened to the Ragged Ones! ”

Frank was excited by the news. “Hold on a sec.” He pulled out his communicator, and quickly informed the others.

Within three minutes, the core leadership of the Raiders were all gathered in the cargo bay, seated on chairs facing Lorik, who was the only one standing. Besdie him was a projector screen. Frank got the distinct feeling he was back at the NAIS attending a lecture.

“Some preliminaries first.” Lorik started. “What you are going to hear may contradict every scientific principle you have learnt in the past. I know it might be difficult to accept, but this is something beyond perhaps our wildest dreams.” At that, he laughed as if at some hidden joke. “Just accept what I will tell you, quiaff?”

Privately, everybody wondered if the elemental had lost it.

Before anyone could reply, Lorik plunged on. “Everybody knows there are four fundamental forces in nature. Gravity, electromagnetic, weak and strong forces. For centuries, we have tried to put together a Grand Unified Theory that could properly explain every single particle and phenomenon we observe. Even the discovery of the Kearny-Fuchida jump drive did not change matters much, as it did not refute the existence of the four forces.”

“That has now changed. From the reports of the Star League scientists, they had recovered several artifacts that operated on a paradigm different from anything we ever had. It took long years of research before they finally discovered the existence of psi, the fifth fundamental force.”

Frank was nearly floored by that statement, while the others were looking around quizzedly. Forsen, as a merchant and a jumpship operator, knew more than most, and he was frowning as well.

“They actually had to grab psychically active individuals off the Star League to test their theories, which was confirmed beyond a doubt by their experiments. I will not go into details now, but suffice to say, the artifacts responded to non-physical stimuli, and directly by the thoughts of the test subjects.”

“Psi exists all around us, yet no one has thus been known to be able to control it fully. Living matter somehow contain, or gather more psi than inanimate objects. I cannot figure out which is it yet, nor why this is so. While living matter has more psi, sentient living matter has even more.”

“Psi permeates all of space and time as well, linked in a manner which we are unable to uncover. However, reports suggest that individuals sensitive to psi may be able to perceive events in the future. I suspect this is the basis for the visions that appears to the Nova Cats, the Coyotes, and the Goliath Scorpions.” Descartin snorted at this, while Deserk spoke up.

“Lorik, there has been some parapsychology experiments conducted at the University of Outreach on the Nova Cats bondsmen taken by the Dragoons. The scientists didn’t tell us much, but I had been able to get hold of a report that had conclusions very similar to yours. I don’t know why they stopped. The reason they gave us was because the results and the methods were unscientific.”

Frank chipped in with his own opinion. “I agree with Deserk on some points. I went through some of the same articles on that subject when I was in the hospital, and scuttlebutt was that the project was abandoned when some big shot applied pressure on the researchers, not because they gave up on their own.” He turned to Deserk and smiled. “The hospital and university staff are well known for being gossip-mongers.”

Lorik cleared his throat loudly. “Ahem. Let us get back on topic. Psi was suspected to be an integral part of the alien civilization. Yes?” Frank raised a hand.

“Fact or conjecture?” He asked. He was slipping back into his ‘student’ mode.

“Uhm, conjecture, unfortunately. There is no certain proof, you see, only some artifacts and items that we have uncovered. Anyway, once they realized that there was an alien base somewhere on the planet, they started trying everything they knew to get in. Various electromagnetic frequencies, heavy weapons, naval bombardment, and even a nuke or two.” Everybody stiffened at the mention of nuclear weapons.

“It wasn’t long before they finally translated enough of the written material left behind that they were able to discover the key. It was written that the base was left behind ‘only for the ones that are living’. That’s the closest translation they got. Since there was a strong correlation between sentient life and psi, I think the scientists picked up on that and decided to give that angle a try.”

“These machines are used to extract psi energy from people, and somehow translate and magnify it into psi energy that could be interpreted by the alien base. I still haven’t figured out how the process works exactly, but rest assured that it does not harm the subject providing the psi. It seems that the psi energies of people can transmitted such that they can somehow convey the person’s state of mind and former experiences. This is probably the best test for a sentient, living being. A machine, for example, doesn’t have the amount of psi needed, nor the ‘memories’ that could activate the transmission process.”

“Then what happened to the Ragged Ones?” Yoshino asked.

“Uncontrolled psi energy is quite dangerous. As I have told you before, it could bring visions from the future and the past. It could also conceivably drive people mad. The same sentience that enables us to have more psi also makes us more vulnerable to it. The Ragged Ones were victims of negative psi energy.”

Some of the Raiders could be seen edging away from the key machines as they heard this.

Lorik did not seem to notice, as he said, “From their engineer’s notes, his last remark was that he was simply activating the device. He found out where the input gear of the machine was, and ‘strapped’ himself in, as it were. After that, presumbly they went crazy. Here is what I have pieced together, from the reports done on emotion states and psi, and the readings I have obtained from the key machine that the Ragged Ones had.”

Turning to the to his computer, he punched some keys. A graph appeared on the screen.

“Here is the psi readings of someone in emotional distress. The report from which this was taken from indicated that the subject was in mortal fear at the time.”

He punched another key. The previous graph shrank to half the screen, while another graph appeared below it.

“The graph below is the last psi input the machine had. The similarities are striking, as you all can observe. However, I contend that this was not the mindset of the engineer of the Ragged Ones at the time. It was probably one last remnant of the Star League scientist that used this machine last.”

“Huh? Then why didn’t it take the psi of the engineer and amplify it?”

“He didn’t calibrate it properly, simple as that. In the end, the machine modified the psi energy to resemble the previous input, while the engineer supplied the psi energy which was adjusted to the previous input by the machine. The psi output drove the unit mad.”

“By the Founder! Is it a weapon then?” Des asked.

“Neg. The previous effect was quite simply, a fluke. While there was a small chance that this would occur, the chances were actually quite small. The psi energy could have been modified in any number of ways by the machine. There could be any of a thousand possible effects taking hold in such a case. I might add that psi is still hardly understood, and the people who know it best are all dead. The Ragged Ones were unlucky to have been afflicted with paranoia.”

“Why do you figure that?”

“They hid in caves, didn’t they? The Star League scientists who used this machine last was also probably holed up in some underground base. The prevailing emotion here, is fear of an enemy, and a strong feeling to hide. That same fear was transmitted to the Ragged Ones, a fear so strong that they decided to hide in the caves, and incidentally, fight you whne they felt they had no other choice.”

“What fear was it?” Someone asked.

“Fear of the Spidercrabs.” Frank answered. “For the Ragged Ones, it was fear of the Falcons, or maybe anyone they saw as a potential threat. Remember, the Falcons use the Fenris in their forces as well. That could be why they attacked Bryan.”

“Then how are we going to use these machines without possibly turning the rest of us into maniacs, or worse?”

Lorik fielded that one. “Psi operates on many levels. The one they use to open the base door is probably one that should have minimal effect on sentient beings, just enough for the alien base to pick up, and hopefully, open the doors.”

“So how long before we can get into the base?” Forsen asked.

“I’ll be honest with you. I’ve found out how the machines transmit their signals, but not how the signals are arranged. Is it a simple process where six machines are hooked up, and one transmits after the other? Or do they all transmit at once? You get my meaning?”

Everybody nodded.

Lorik continued, “I think it won’t be long before we find out how the sequence works. In the meantime, we will have to uncover the location of the base soon.”

Frank’s communicator suddenly beeped. As he lifted it up to his ear, the others waited anxiously to see what was the latest news.

They saw Frank speak back to the communicator with ‘yes’, ‘no’, and ‘do what you gotta do’. They also saw Frank’s mouth split into a wide smile. Frank turned to the assembled personnel as the communication ended. It was clear that he had difficulty keeping a poker face, while the people in the room were dying to know what he had learnt.

“People, we have some bad news, some good news, and some very, very good news. Bad news is, Captain Karen Winslet was killed in action by the Falcons. We, as in the mercs of Outreach and Galatea, have lost another company of mechs, two of vehicles, and three of infantry today. Good news is, the Warriors won, and are now led by someone called Robert Feehan. Their key machine is also now with the Arch Lancers.”

He grinned suddenly. “Best of all, the Arch Lancers have found the alien base!”

 

The machine intelligence at the bottom of the ocean stirred again. The events of the past few days had been very promising. The primitive machines the flesh beings had used to gain entry into its target had fallen into the hands of two factions, one of which had landed near the gates.

It wondered if the flesh beings would be able to figure out the combination for using the machines, that living, breathing, thinking beings are required to open the gates. It had been a precaution on the part of the long dead civilization that the owners of the machine intelligence would not be able to plunder the riches in the base.

It deduced that the day where it would finally accomplish its goal was drawing ever closer. It begun to move more of its units nearer the location. It would throw more units than the flesh beings had in its very first assault. Losses are acceptable, as long as it accomplished its objective.

Once the gates are opened, the machine intelligence would unleash hell.