I shook my head as sweat stung my eyes. “Not today, but soon.”
Janella had turned Andrea to face me. Her ’Mech had been painted gray, with blue highlights on legs and arms. It didn’t have the fierce designs some other Mech Warriors favored, instead retaining the subtle tones that had belonged to the machine since a Wolf Clan warrior had brought it into Republic service nearly fifty years earlier.
“I’m done, too, thanks. We’re coming back in.” Her voice revealed a bit more weariness when she flicked over to the tactical sideband we’d been sharing. “It was good to get this workout, but I wasn’t focusing.”
Damn, woman, if you can shoot like that when you’re not focusing… I nodded. “Well, when they have your stats from this run worked up, I think you’ll find you blasted the hell out of everything here. Going back to your taking down my ’Mech on Helen, you have a nice string going.”
“Dusting that ’Mech on Helen was just varminting.”
“Ouch.”
“Sorry, my dear, but it’s true. You were running down an alley, couldn’t maneuver. Had you been standing still you’d not have been a much easier shot.”
“Given the way I was shooting here, even facing you down I’d not have been much of a challenge.”
She laughed, and it was good to hear those rich tones enter her voice. “Mason, you’re in a brand-new ’Mech. You’re the first pilot, and this is a new design and that was your shakeout run. We’ve run this course before and you might not have been hitting as you have in the past, but you handled that beast very well. It’s quite mobile and does have power.”
She was right. The Mad Cat III–which some wags had designated Miffed Kitty—was a variant on the very successful Mad Cat design from the Clans. Being lighter than its predecessor, it ran faster, which I favored. It did lack some of the punch of the Mad Cat II, but I’ve long been of the school that suggests being able to move and avoid damage is preferable to taking a beating to administer one.
Janella’s Andrea ran seventy-five tons, which brought the Tundra Wolf up into the heavy class, but the way she could make it move you’d have thought it was an under-armored light ’Mech. Her ability to shoot and judicious use of long-range weaponry meant that she picked her enemies to pieces before they closed. By the time they got to her– if they got to her—their armor was so ragged that a well-placed shot could cripple them.
“I will admit, my lady, I do like this ’Mech a lot. Next time you come save me, bring it instead of that Black Hawk. And bring Andrea.”
She sighed. “I wanted to bring Andrea to Helen, but we had no reports of heavy weaponry being deployed. The Centurion was not a bad little machine. Against AgroMechs you don’t need much more.”
“Provided they don’t start arming them.”
“Good point, though the modifications needed to get them combat operational will be expensive.”
I didn’t reply to that comment because I knew where it would take us. On the train down from Santa Fe we’d gone over some of the material we’d been briefed on the previous day. Neither of us had slept well thinking about it all and the commoline between her billet and mine was fairly active, even though we’d agreed to sleep apart so we’d not be keeping each other awake.
Consuela or Victor, in their wisdom, had scheduled us for a run at White Sands. Because I am a Ghost Knight and keeping my identity a secret is important, I was sent down under an alias, with records that made it look as if I was Janella’s bodyguard. Since she is a Knight, they restricted the range, making it our private playground until whenever we were done. Anyone wondering why would assume it was at her request, and I’d go unnoticed, which is exactly what everyone wanted.
While allowances are made for Knights off on missions, I was actually two months overdue for my performance evaluation. Janella was more up-to-date, but was close enough to her due date to let her make the run when I did. I also suspected that some folks wanted to see how I would do in the new ’Mech, especially after the way I lost my last one.
The run was good for more than clerical reasons. White Sands is beautiful in a Spartan sort of way, but then I find deserts fascinating because they are so unlike the forests in which I grew up. The place was completely steeped in history, too, with the first nuclear bomb having been tested at Alamogordo, and I was pretty certain that placing a testing range for BattleMechs here had not been accidental.
And I knew the creation of the Boneyard definitely had not been.
I liked to think Stone had ordered it into existence, but I also saw the hand of David Lear in its creation. To the west of the testing center, between it and the San Andres Mountains, a cemetery for broken ’Mechs had been created. They came in every configuration and color scheme, from every House, Clan and mercenary unit I’d ever heard of. Legless ’Mechs rested on their sides or backs. Others stood there with broken arms resting at their feet. On more than one occasion the ’Mech’s battered head lay on the ground or sat askew atop pitted and chipped shoulders.
Stalking past it I always felt a chill running down my spine. Here, in this place, the most devastating weapon known to mankind had been created. In the shadow of where it had been detonated waited these battered engines of war. Just as mankind had realized using nuclear weapons was folly, so perhaps would we someday learn to eliminate the need for BattleMechs.
When I’d first come here an old MechWarrior guiding me out to the range taught me a rhyme whose authorship was lost in antiquity. “As you are, so once were we. As we are now, you shall someday be.” Every one of those ’Mechs had been piloted into combat by someone just like me. They’d had the myth of their invincibility proven a lie one day. Some of them lived to profit from the experience, but many more paid a fearsome price for it.
Looking at them now I realized I still clung to the idea that I was not going down. That was ridiculous, after all, since I’d been shot out of my last two ’Mechs—Maria being an exception. Digger’s going down had been a wild ride, but little more. The other ’Mech, well… I squinted but couldn’t quite see its twisted carcass amid those roasting in the sunlight.
We guided our ’Mechs into the hangar and crawled out of the cockpits. A tech came over to me with a noteputer and had me sign off on various forms. She smiled at me and I wondered if the clerk who’d fixed my room in Santa Fe was a cousin of hers. “We’ll be getting the name painted on her soon, sir. You sure you want Ghost?”
I nodded. “That’s it.”
She frowned for a moment. “Not a good omen. Why would you want it?”
I shrugged, peeling off my cooling vest in the same motion. “Prince Victor Steiner-Davion’s unit in the Clan war was called the Revenants. Revenants are Ghosts. Maybe some day I’ll be good enough to have been a Revenant.”
“You pilots.” She shook her head, but her broad smile didn’t die. “You want it, it’s done. I’ll even make sure they do a good job with the painting.”
“Thanks.” I gave her a nod, then cut along the catwalk to Janella. She finished signing off on her forms and beamed a smile at me. “My score puts me in the ninety-eighth percentile for those tested this year.”
“Good. My score indicated I have a future in a service industry where if I do anything more than shoot someone a nasty glance I’m overmatched.” I traced a finger along her jaw, then leaned in and kissed her.
She smiled. “Now that was directly on target.”
“It was a ranging shot. Should I fire for effect?”
Janella blushed, then hooked her arm in mine. “First, my dear, we are going to get a lot of water to rehydrate, and some food. Then we are going to shower.”