For a time that felt like forever, he knew the horror of freefall in a BattleMech.
The Lone Wolfhit the ground with all the grace and gentleness of a huge rock. The abrupt landing smashed Phelan down into the command couch and whipped his head back against a cockpit reinforcement. His neurohelmet prevented his brains from being spattered all over, but he still saw stars. His left arm jammed its elbow against the edge of a console, numbing it to the wrist. He bit his tongue, tasting blood from that and from where the neurohelmet mashed his lips against his teeth.
Sparks flew through the cockpit as monitors and control panels shorted out. Warning klaxons blared, then were choked off by a pop and a puff of smoke. Pouring in through the skeletal remains of the cockpit canopy structure, dirt and stones ricocheted off broken equipment and Phelan's battered body. One large piece cracked the viewport on his helmet as it bounced off to the back of the cockpit.
Then he heard nothing except the rattle of debris and the steady whispered rumble of the fusion engine. His left arm felt on fire as feeling returned to it, but a visual inspection showed only a small cut on the forearm. He brushed away the dirt that had pooled at his throat and started to unbuckle himself from the ruined 'Mech.
What stopped him was a bizarre and terrifying sound from outside. Thud, scrape, thud, scrape, it reverberated powerfully through the ground and into his 'Mech. To Phelan, it was the noise made by the deranged, one-legged maniac that haunted scary stories he'd heard as a child. As quickly as he clubbed that childhood fear down, another more insistent horror rose in his heart. That's Vlad. He's coming for me.
Phelan moved instantly to action. Working the right joystick around and pushing the 'Mech's foot pedals, he found power still going to his 'Mech's limbs. The total absence of monitors meant he had no idea whether any of his weapons were still operational. Without his battle array, he could only guess if a weapon was on target, but he knew that a 'Mech at point-blank range would be very hard to miss.
That's a point Vlad won't overlook.
Using his 'Mech's right arm, he pushed off against the ground. The Lone Wolfstarted to move toward the right, but caught only after a shift of a few degrees. Phelen pushed harder, but heard armor panels buckling, so he stopped. As he relieved the pressure on his right arm, the Lone Wolfsank back to its original position.
Despair clutched at his heart. I'm wedged in tight. I've got no weapons. There's nothing I can do. I'm going to die!
From somewhere deep inside, he heard a voice that could only be his own. If you're going to die, Phelan Kell, you'll die a man.
He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. Working his left arm around to ease its numbness, he waited.
Thud, scrape, thud, scrape. His pulse matched itself to the thunderous cadence of Vlad's approach. A thousand different plans for escape flashed through Phelan's mind and were rejected. He knew he couldn't run because Vlad would gladly hunt him down and kill him whether he were in a 'Mech or not. Calling out to Natasha would do no good. As nearly as he could tell, his radio was out, and during the test, it would be jammed anyway.
Vlad did not keep him waiting long. The Executionerpulled itself up onto the ridge and stared down at the Lone Wolf.From shoulder to foot, the entire right side of the 'Mech's body had been stripped of armor. Impact craters and laser burns dotted the rest of the 'Mech's hide like disease sores. Smoke drifted from the ruined half of its chest and hung over the body like a wispy cloak.
Vlad's laughter echoed from the Executioner'sexternal speakers. "So this is how it ends? I would have expected more of a fight from a warrioras great as you."
Phelan flicked open his helmet's face plate. "If you were any sort of opponent, I might have really put my best effort into it."
"A mistake, Phelan. I regret that I cannot offer you the luxury of learning from it. I would have let you live to wallow in your dismal failure, but I have not been given that choice." The Executioner'sleft arm swung its Gauss rifle muzzle in line with Phelan's cockpit. "You embarrassed Conal in the Grand Council and he has demanded your death."
Phelan snorted contemptuously. "If you had the balls God gave a sand flea, you'd come down here and slit my throat."
"Fortunately, Phelan, I have the brains God gave a man and I remember you wear a gun in the cockpit. Nice try."
"A warrior's got to try."
"A fitting epitaph. Too bad's it's too long to inscribe on the thimble they'll use for your remains. Farewell, Phelan."
Phelan swept his 'Mech's right aim up and dropped the boxy weapon pod down to cover his open cockpit. At the same time, he stabbed both command couch foot pedals to the floor.
The Lone Wolf'sright arm slammed back into the cockpit like a hammer. The canopy skeleton shattered and raked jagged pieces of metal through the cockpit. One sliced through the surface of Phelan's cooling vent, instantly filling the air with the acrid scent of 'Mech coolant. Fist-sized hunks of armor rained down from the weapon, their jagged edges nicking and cutting Phelan's arms and legs.
Once armor fragments stopped clattering around in the cockpit, the only sound in the eerie quiet was the bass undertone of the fusion engine. Vlad did not curse him or taunt him. He heard no sound of Vlad's 'Mech limping to another position. Could my kicking out with my feet have shaken the ground enough to knock him down?
Phelan peeled the Lone Wolf'sarm away from its face. Pressing the limb to the ground, he pushed off again and the OmniMech seemed to move much more freely. He rolled it over to the left, then gathered his feet under him. Slowly and cautiously, he raised the 'Mech to its full height and looked out over the edge of the trench.
The Executionerlay on its face. Still-glowing stumps and the bubbling burning ends of myomer muscles were all that remained of its right arm and right leg. The hole in the right side of the 'Mech's torso had expanded all the way to the midline and beyond. From it, Phelan saw a thick cloud of gray smoke, and the scent told him the Executioner's,gyro had been reduced to scrap.
Static crackled through the speakers in his neurohelmet, followed quickly by Natasha's nervously giddy laughter. "It's official, Phelan. The exam is over. Thanks for opening up Vlad for me and keeping him busy so I could line up that long shot."
Phelan shuddered. "Yeah, well, entertaining Vlad seems to be a specialty of mine." He felt blood trickle down from a scratch on his right arm. "I'm just glad you came along when you did."
"Why, Phelan Wolf, I think you're the first person outside the Dragoons ever to say that to me."
"And no one ever meant it more, I can assure you." Phelan's Lone Wolfslowly scaled the side of the trench. "I'm happy you got your quartet of 'Mechs, but I hope you'll understand if I never want to do this again."
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