"All of you unfortunates will wait at your 'Mech until I personally tell you otherwise. Am I clear?"
"Sir! Yes, sir!"
"I am so very happy." He indicated the poker circle. "These most gracious people will visit you from time to time. You may ask them questions, but you will not waste their valuable time. I will visit you as well, and you most assuredly will not waste my time. Understood?"
"Sir! Yes, sir!"
"As I am sure you have figured out, four of you will not be assigned 'Mechs. You four lucky souls will be drawing special manuals and will be accompanying the Old Guard to Hall A. Line up on Sttibel here. And—" Veck glared at them—"try not to break your new toys."
The "Sir! Yes, sir!" was very enthusiastic.
As he waited in line, Kelly looked over the battalion's 'Mechs, wondering which, if any of them, he would get. The owner-operator machines were easy to spot. Crews were still painting them in CSVB colors. There was Trahn's Raven, a battered old Vulcan and an apparently new Stricter. The front rank of four machines, two Cataphracts and two Commandos, were the 'Mechs that had made up the count's guard; the recognition shield welded to their left chests proclaimed that origin, but Kelly fancied he recognized them from the subtle individuality of their oft-repaired armor plating. Hard by the maintenance hangar, nine Lineholder's stood in three ranks of three, and another two were parked on the far side of the field. Further back he spotted the Vindicator and the two Commandos he'd fought in his test. Scattered around the field were the rest: a Javelin, a dilapidated Blackjack, a one-armed Caesar, a second Stricter, and a second Raven completed the count.
The number of Lineholders best fit the number of trainees, but it wasn't right on. And they were new, most of them. More than likely the newbies would get the older, less desirable machines. Gods, he hoped he wouldn't get the crippled Caesar, but better that than no 'Mech at all. On the other hand, most of the old stuff were light 'Mechs, and there was a school of thought that said you put your best pilots in the light machines. Did their commander subscribe to that belief? Of course all his speculation would be bootless if he was one of the four.
"Looks like you made it after all," said the force leader behind the table as he came to the head of the line. It took Kelly a moment but he recognized her as the tech he'd met after his test. She winked at him and held out a manual. "Offer still holds."
He barely heard her as he checked the manual's cover. Commando-5S it said. He'd made it! He hadn't gotten one of the "special manuals." Elated, he started across the warming tarmac without a backward glance. He was heading for his 'Mech.
JJ came running up behind him. Good. That meant he'd gotten an assignment, too. "What'd you get?" JJ whooped. "I got the Javelin. You?"
"Commando."
"You sure?"
Kelly didn't need to look at the manual to confirm. He'd been given a Commando. "Why do you ask?"
"Look."
JJ was pointing ahead to where two figures in crisp new CSVB uniforms were scrambling around on the Commandos Kelly had tested against. Kelly stared in shock. There had to be a mistake.
They had happened to come to a halt near Trahn's Raven, their shadows falling on the foot assembly where Trahn had his head stuck in a maintenance panel. He pulled his head out to see who was cutting off his light. "What's up, you guys?"
"Looks like Kelly's assignment is snafued," JJ told him. "He's got a Commando manual, but the two Commandos are occupied."
Trahn looked downrange at the two pairs of Commandos. "You don't have a problem, Kelly. You've got an honor."
Kelly looked at him, confused.
"Bua and Dok Li, the Old Guard Commando pilots have moved up to Lineholders. They're probably just clearing out personal stuff."
Kelly looked again. The figures, now climbing down the access ladders, that he had taken for newbies weren't. They were, as Trahn said, the Old Guard pilots, and they were heading toward the paired Lineholders. It was the new uniforms that had made them appear to be newbies.
"Good karma." Trahn went on. "To get one of those machines, you must have impressed someone."
The last vestiges of concern about how he'd been performing burned away in the fierce heat of joy over this proof that he'd done well. The day was getting better and better.
"Flush some coolant, Mr. Chill. You be too hot to pat on the back."
Kelly suppressed his grin. He gave JJ a punch in the shoulder, then was off like a homing missile, not skidding to a stop till he reached the broad, flat feet of the Commando. He stood and stared up at it for a few long moments, dumbfounded but happy. It wasn't big as 'Mech's went. In fact, it was quite small, just twenty-five tons. JJ's Javelin outmassed it, as did every other BattleMech model on the field. Slab-sided and blocky and lightly armed and armored though it was, this was his 'Mech.
He took hold of the dangling access ladder and climbed. The effort seemed negligible. He found the hatch was open, unsurprisingly. Halfway through the hatch, he did get a surprise. The cockpit was occupied. The auburn-tressed Liu was sitting in his seat. She looked at him, indignant. "What are you doing tracking mud on my 'Mech?"
"Huh. I think you're the one who's out of place."
"Really? You were assigned a Commando COM-5ST'
"Yes."
"Serial number 398-01487?"
"Ye—" He hadn't checked the serial number. He looked down at his manual and saw serial number 398-01486.
His face must have shown his embarrassment because she chuckled. "Thought so. You're next door."
"Guess I got a little eager."
"I understand. Could happen to anyone. Name's Samantha Liu. Buddies call me Sam. You'll probably qualify since I'm betting we're going to be lancemates."
"You got some info?"
"No, but I don't think the sentimental old farts in command are gonna break up this pair. Bad enough they're changing the lance's TO&E."
"I thought you didn't have a scoop. How do you know they're breaking up the Old Guard lance?"
"They're separating the 'Mechs, aren't they? Otherwise, we wouldn't have gotten assigned to them."
"How do you know we're not in with the Old Guard?"
"Two of us. Four of them. How many 'Mechs in a lance?"
"Got it. But maybe the Old Guard are splitting up. You know, each one to lead a lance. Harry Trahn says that Bua and Dok Li have gotten Lineholders."
"You don't break up a team without good reason, and new 'Mechs ain't it."
It made sense to him. "I guess we'll find out for sure when they announce the lance assignments."
"I expect we will. Meantime Veck gave me an assignment, and I need to be about it. Nice meeting you, Nameless Kelly."
Her jibe made him realize that he'd never given her his name. "Tybalt Kelly. But my friends call me Kelly."
"Hey, Mr. Chill!" JJ called from his perch on the Javelin's, shoulder.
"Mr. Chill?" Liu echoed. "Not a friend, I take it."
"JJ gives everybody a nickname." More loudly he called back, "What do you want, JJ?"
"Brass on approach."
Veck was indeed headed toward their part of the field. Liu hummed a few bars of "Trouble A'coming," an old standard that had become the theme song for the classic holovid 'Mech Combat! "Maybe you better move on over to your own 'Mech before old Veck decides you don't want it."
That was the last thing Kelly wanted. He backed from the cockpit, nearly slipping in his haste. Veck had dubbed the trainees 'Mech monkeys, but no monkey ever scrambled down a 'Mech faster than Kelly. Once he cleared the Commando's chest, he slid down the ladder like a navy rating. The friction burned his hands, and he knew he'd pay later, but he made it down and over to his own 'Mech before Veck arrived.
"Problem, Mr. Kelly?"
"No, sir!"
"You will find that many 'Mechs look alike, Mr. Kelly. The enemy may be using the same model as we do, and you cannot rely on silhouette alone. How do you tell an enemy 'Mech from a friendly when they look alike, Mr. Kelly
?"
That was an easy one. BattleMechs had an Identification: Friend or Foe system. "IFF, sir!"
"You wouldn't consider checking the serial number?"
Mouth dry, Kelly tried swallowing anyway. He made a strangled sort of sound.
"Carry on, Mr. Kelly. We will speak again before you leave the field."
Which they did, and Kelly was able to make a more creditable show of answering Veck's questions that time. Veck answered almost none of Kelly's questions and what responses he made were limited to technical issues. The laconic Veck and the equally uncommunicative veterans were a popular topic during the evening's brief hour of rec time in Hall A.
Kelly nabbed a bottle of brew and retired to where he could catch the evening news. JJ joined him and together they watched Lady Romano Shu defend the count against allegations of profiteering and improper trading actions.
"Lady Shu's making a hash of that ENN interviewer," observed JJ.
"She's got truth on her side: The count's no fool for letting her be his family's public face."
"And a fine face it is." JJ raised his bottle in salute. "Good-looking and rich. Some people are born lucky."
"The lucky one is the guy who lands her."
"Like you could?"
"Why not? I hear she likes Mech Warriors."
"You are talking about the unattainable, Mr. Chill. Don't bother setting your sights on something that's out of range. Plenty enough targets nearby. Which, I might add, is where I'd thought you were aiming. And if I'm wrong, say so, 'cause I surely wouldn't mind that target hand-off."
Before Kelly could demand that JJ explain himself, the vid screen blanked and Romano Shu's delicate features were replaced by the concerned visage of the ENN weekend anchor person.
"We interrupt this report to bring you a news bulletin. Though reports are fragmentary and contradictory, ENN has learned that there is trouble in Severagol."
8
Severagol
County Shu, Epsilon Eridani
Chaos March
7 December 3061
"Welcome to Severagol," the sign at the outskirts had said. "Home of Superamalgamations, a division of Amalgamated Eridani Mining Company."
The broad flange at the rear of the Axman's foot clipped the post, snapping it at its base. The 'Mech's pilot didn't notice, busy as he was surveying the town and watching for a reaction to his approach. Everything looked quiet. Bringing up his magnification, he spied on the garrison's motor pool tucked away on the west side. Pools of illumination revealed mechanics working on a stripped-down tank. Identifying the vehicle as a Goblin Infantry Support Vehicle, he grinned with satisfaction at the twinned good news. The Goblin's scheduled maintenance was going on, which meant that the defenders didn't know he was coming. It also meant that when the alarm went up, he would not have to face their heaviest and best-armed vehicle.
It was good to know that the informers weren't double-agents. He hated walking into traps, even more than he hated the soggy climate of this forsaken planet. The forecast was for heavy rain. The lowering clouds that hid the moons and the rising wind promised prompt fulfillment of that prediction. Not before he finished his business, he hoped. Afterwards, it could rain; he'd even welcome it since it would do a lot to wipe out his trail. But that was the future. Right now . . .
The Axman raised its right arm. The hatchet it had originally carried in its battle fist was long gone, left twisted and unreparable in the wreck of a Black Knight on a far away world. It had been replaced with something suitable, the large laser that had been the primary armament of that fallen Knight.
Ruby light speared through the night. The visual component of the beam was not necessary to the weapon's destructive or targeting capabilities, but it did give a MechWarrior a satisfactory feeling to see the shaft of carnage he was unleashing. The Axman's pilot grinned in savage glee as the scarlet beam gashed open one of the mining company's fuel storage tanks.
Kilojoules of energy coursing through the contents were enough to ignite the fuel oil. It exploded spectacularly, sending plumes of flame skywards. Jagged shards of the tank walls whizzed away into the night. Some even found the Axman, only to ricochet away from the ferro-fibrous armor. Some civilian vehicles near him were not as well protected. Small fireballs joined the first.
That ought to keep the local emergency services busy.
As he was considering igniting a second tank to add to the fun, his commo squawked to life with the voice of his nervous comrade in this little venture.
"Slash & Burn, this is Snatch & Grab. You are lit up like a New Year's Celebration. Suggest you move your butt before you get it shot off."
"Ain't nothing likely to do that in this burg."
"They're supposed to have tanks and APCs."
"The big turtle is taking its nap. The little ones ain't got no more than a sting." Even assuming the defenders could mobilize their vehicles before the raid was over, they didn't stand a chance against the sixty-five-ton Axman. "Ain't nothing to worry about but your bucket of bolts breaking down before you make the snatch."
"Which I can't do until the path is clear."
Wind-sucking coward.
The Axman stalked away from the conflagration it had started. Its pilot took it along a path that put it back on Snatch & Grab's route. There were people on the streets now, drawn out by the explosion. The smart ones disappeared as soon as they caught sight of the Axman. The stupid ones stood and gawked or ran about in panic. The stupidest ones were removed from the gene pool by the ponderous tramp of the BattleMech.
Their own fault.
The only opposition he faced was a cop who futilely discharged his weapon at the BattleMech. The pilot obliterated the fool with a single shot from one of the Intek 4 cm lasers on the Axman's right wrist. He reached the railyard without further incident.
This was a place where the main line met with the narrow gauge tracks that ran to the mines in the mountains the way veins ran to a man's heart. Just before sunset a long-haul freight train had pulled in, too late to be unloaded, too late even to have its cars rerouted along the local sidings. Most of what it hauled was bulk goods to supply the town and empty hoppers for Severagol's mining output, but two of the tank cars hauled something special: the coolant that kept BattleMechs operating. The cars carrying that liquid treasure were easy to pick out by the vapor locks and warning signage.
Ripe for the plucking.
"All clear," he signaled, settling in to wait. His scanners picked up the approaching CargoMech well before he laid eyeballs on it. It was an ungainly looking four-legger, all struts and beams and myomer bundles. At speed, it wallowed like a drunken elephant. The control box and crew platform swayed back and forth as the machine paced forward. It was a wonder that none of the no doubt green-faced scavenger crew were tossed overboard, but those doughties were clinging to their positions tighter than they ever hugged their mommas' skirts. The machine slowed as it entered the railyard, the better to negotiate the cramped quarters.
The pilot took his Axman away from the prize, to give the CargoMech room to work and to look for a place that would give him the vantage he wanted. He found it next to a pair of grain silos where he could command the most likely approaches to the railyard.
Behind him, the CargoMech sidled up to one of the tank cars. Lifting its port legs in unison like some insectoid sumo wrestler, the CargoMech straddled the train. Snatch & Grab released the grapple clamps and they snaked down, each one ridden down by a pair of scavenger crewmen. They were brisk and efficient as they secured all the clamps then released the connectors on the tanker. The crew stood away as the tanker car was swayed up to nestle against the CargoMech's torso. The 'Mech took a side step then moved forward over the second tanker. Machinery whirred as the grapple clamps shifted into position to haul in the second tanker. The scavenger crew went to work securing the second tank car as the Axman' s external mikes picked up the racketing sound of internal combustion engines and clanking treads.
> Someone had called out Severagol's meager defense force.
But did they know yet what they were defending?
Zeroing in on the disturbance, he cursed. Three Vedette medium tanks were hauling ass down the road from the militia armory. What happened to the old Galleons that were supposed to be making up the rest of the Goblin's lance? The militia's upgrade to the Vedettes wasn't supposed to occur until next week. While the pilot pondered whether he was looking at betrayal or mere misinformation, the militia tanks rumbled closer. He cursed again as the Vedettes took the turn that could take them to the railyard. There were plenty of other destinations they could be making for, but the pilot couldn't count on them heading elsewhere.
"Loot secured," Snatch & Grab reported. "Recovering my scavenger crew."
"Do it fast and clear your butt out of here."
"What's going on?"
Snatch & Grab sounded panicky. No surprise there. The CargoMech didn't have a BattleMech's sensor suite. He wouldn't know about the approaching enemy, but he'd already fretted about the possibility. The Axman's pilot was in no mood to be soothing. "Lock it up and haul butt. I catch you looking back and I'll shoot your eyes out."
"I knew, I knew it! There's troub—"
"I said move! Ain't no trouble I can't handle." Nevertheless he was relieved to see the CargoMech stride away from the rails. He was even more relieved that he didn't get any more whining, which meant he could concentrate on the problem without distraction.
The pilot scoped the Vedettes coming in from their isolated vehicle park as making 70 kph, faster than his Axman could travel. They'd have to slow once they reached the more congested streets of the town, but they'd still be nimble. Hounds like these could harry him more easily than he cared.
Initiation to War Page 5