Part II
Two days later, Larry slowly dressed for the morning. He then dragged himself down to the canteen for breakfast, but not even a good cup of coffee could get him moving any faster. The hangar lift to his ‘mech was a grace that saved him ascending a ladder. Climbing into the cockpit, he seated the neurohelmet onto his shoulders. Since it was a Dragoon model, it was less bulky and heavy than the average version used in the Inner Sphere -- another small grace for the day. Flipping a myriad of switches, even his Wolverine’s start-up sequence seemed lackadaisical. With effort he managed to move his ‘mech out into the field and join with his lancemates in the company's command lance.
The sky was a brilliant blue, without a cloud in sight, contrasting with the browns and reds of the rocky An Ting desert landscape. Spires of stone dotted the scenery, breaking up the vast flatland. As the sun rose into the sky, Larry knew it was going to be a hot day; his cockpit and coolant vest would shield him from that heat. He eventually came to a stop with the rest of his company. He leaned back in his command couch, closed his eyes, raised his hands, and in his mind’s eye practiced a piece he was learning. He was only vaguely aware of conversation happening over the comm.
“Hey captain, how’s that shiner?”
“Purple and tender. But don't worry, I’m still better looking than you.”
Absorbed in his practice, the chirping comm startled him. The voice of Larry’s lancemate, Mike Takata, chided him, “Hey Larry, wake up, man. This exercise isn’t going to run itself.”
Looking up he saw the rest of his lance moving ahead of him. He grabbed the controls and pushed the throttle to catch up. Everything felt sluggish, but knew it was truly him and not the machine. “Sorry, Mike.”
Lazy cabasas of battlemech footfalls on dirt and gravel played off the rocks as the company marched. Eventually, Captain Woomack stopped and called out to his company, “Alright, our goal in this exercise is to prevent the company of cadets from breaking through to the hangars. Their goal is to deliver a ‘package’ being carried by one of them. At least the DCMS procurement guys are giving us enough paintballs to practice today.”
“How generous of them,” replied James McLean, commander of the heavy lance. “Next thing you know, they might even give us enough toilet paper. I’m tired of crab walking.”
The whole company laughed until Woomack continued, “Careful now. That fop liaison officer Akuma might be listening. Anyway, the cadets have no idea where we are, only that we lie on their path back. They also do not know that we are going to ambush them, but hopefully they expect it. I plan on using the rocks to hide us. Heavy lance, I want you deployed to the left and ahead of us at Nav Alpha. Recon, I want you placed further off the path at Beta. Your goal is to flank them. Command lance with me at Gamma. We need to stop them in their tracks so heavy and recon can work their magic. Geiger, there is a choice rock formation here at Epsilon I want you behind. There is enough iron in those spires to fool with MAD, and it is just high enough to hide your Stinger. You can stand out of the cockpit hatch with binoculars. Let us know when they are coming.”
“Aff, captain.”
Four points on the tactical map lit up as Woomack finished, “Let’s make sure these cadets know what it means to be Dragoons!”
Following his lance, Larry joined with Captain Woomack in his Warhammer, Mike in his Thunderbolt, and Ihor Masnyk in his Phoenix Hawk. They stood quietly behind the spires and patiently waited. The cadets would be piloting Chameleon training ‘mechs that had far more weapons than heat sinks and relatively thin armor. They were designed to force cadets to watch their heat curve lest they drive their ‘mechs into shutdown at the wrong moment in a battle. While all the energy weapons were powered down and ammo bins filled with dummy rounds of paint for the day, the computers would be keeping track of damage and heat as if it were real. Despite the heat concerns, they were adroit machines at 50 tons. Equipped with jump jets giving them good maneuverability, they provided another lesson for young ‘mechwarriors on mobility in combat. For training purposes, the Dragoons maintained a full stable of the Chameleons: a rare accomplishment. Among the Great Houses, only the most well-funded war colleges could make the same boast.
Soon after the lances took up their spots, Steven Geiger reported seeing the cadets. “They are about five minutes out from you, captain. They are moving steadily, but slowly. Looks as though they expect an ambush.”
“Roger, Geiger. Let me know when they pass your position. Everyone get ready.”
Larry watched the seconds go by on his chronometer while he drummed a beat on the arms of his command couch. Three minutes later Geiger radioed again, “They just passed me. I’m strapping myself back in.”
Two minutes after that Woomack directed the command lance out into the middle of the path as the cadets closed to less than 700 meters. Upon clearing the rocks, warnings sounded disonantly in Larry’s cockpit as “enemy” targeting systems locked on and the HUD filled with twelve ‘mechs. Soon after Takata launched his long-range missiles at the advancing cadets. Woomack and Larry followed with PPC and autocannon fire.
The sounds and sights of combat jolted Larry. Although pretend, the release of adrenaline finally allowed him to shake off his torpor. His movements sharpened, the fog lifted from his mind, and he finally felt awake.
The return fire from the cadets culminated in poorly aimed laser attacks that would have only glassed the sand if they were at full power. Masnyk’s large laser, however, managed to score a direct strike on the midsection of one of the Chameleons. Weapons fire was fast and free in the opening exchanges. As the distance closed, the cadets were beginning to score hits on the command lance, but the difference in skill continued to show. The veteran Dragoons constantly side-stepped and weaved to avoid shots, as if dancing to a beat only the experienced could hear. Then the rear of the cadet column suddenly stopped and turned. Heavy and recon lances had closed the trap catching the cadets between all three lances.
The cadets seemed confused and their responses were erratic -- pausing then firing at whatever target they could. One did manage to peg Larry with a large laser that burned into his ‘mech’s left arm. His computer simulated the damage, but there was still plenty of armor. In reply, he fired his autocannon, the range and heat profile of which was ideal for desert combat. The training shells stippled the head of the Chameleon with green paint across the cockpit glass, stunning the cadet. Larry wondered if the cadet would realize that the sensors a ‘mech carried more than made up for the loss of cockpit visibility. Using the opportunity, he closed the distance and fired his short-range missile rack mounted on top of the left shoulder. Four of the six missiles hit, splattering more paint across the arms and torso; a split second pause before adding his medium laser. Heat rose in his cockpit as he fired it, but the Wolverine was an overall cool-running machine. The laser burned into the right arm. Having made his mark, he backed off a bit to cool down.
As the battle continued, something clicked in the cadets’ strategy. Although still taking the worst of it in the exchange and having lost three of their own, they organized their fire by concentrating on targets. Anderson’s Locust took several bad hits; its light armor no match for the lasers of the Chameleons. Van Zyl’s Crusader succumbed to a simulated ammunition explosion. Panher’s Wolverine took enough shots to the right side that he had lost his arm and accompanying autocannon. And Masnyk ended up with a fused hip in his Phoenix Hawk, leaving him with only his jump jets for mobility. By jumping and spraying his machine guns, he hoped to make himself a hard target -- until a clumsy landing on the opposite knee put an end to that tactic. In response to the casualties of his company, Woomack ordered them to tighten the noose on the cadets lest they break out.
Just when it seemed that the fight was hitting a tipping point and the cadets would collapse under the pressure, three rushed toward the command lance. The leading pair screened the majority of weapons fire for the third. One then collapsed from a seized leg. The second and third cadets, with only 60 meters to go before colliding with the captain and Takata, fired their short-range weapons and initiated their jump jets. They leaped over the battle line landing behind their veteran opponents. The second cadet turned and fired, covering for the third, who immediately ran for cover and ducked behind a rock formation.
“Bastek!” Captain Woomack’s voice bellowed on the comm. “That cadet must be the one carrying the package. You’re currently in the best position to intercept.”
Without hesitation, Larry turned around and trusted his lance to protect his flank. “On it, Captain!”
As he passed the cadet that had stayed behind to cover the other’s escape, he fired his laser and missiles. He aimed hastily and missed the Chameleon, but could not wait to see its response. Instead he pushed his throttle to the max. On the flat terrain, his run could reach 86 km/h. It was slower than the Chameleon’s, but he knew the heat build-up would be taking a toll on the cadet’s speed. There was a quick chirp in his right ear. He looked at his radar. A caret showed on his display briefly before disappearing. Then it reappeared.
The cadet Chameleon was using the rocks for cover on their escape to the hangar. Larry smiled at the good use of terrain by the cadet. Running hard, he pulled up parallel with his prey. He fired his pistol-mounted autocannon. The salvo was a near miss as the cadet ducked behind a spire, the rock exploding into gravel and dust. There were plenty of kilometers left, but they were traversing them quickly. He pushed down on his foot pedals, ignited his jump jets, and landed behind the cadet. He maintained his rhythm and was running as soon as he touched the ground. He fired his medium laser, which burned directly into the back between the ‘mech’s hunched shoulders.
The autocannon reloaded with the sound of a drum as the shells chambered. He raised his arm to fire, but the cadet had other plans in mind. The Chameleon’s jump jets ignited, propelling it to the left. In mid-air it turned and fired its small lasers and machine guns. The range was long for those knife-fighting weapons, yet they still connected. Dummy bullets bounced off Larry’s cockpit glass. The ‘mech landed facing its original direction and continued its flight to the hangar.
“Damn, that was good,” Larry said to himself with surprise.
The comm chirped over Woomack’s company frequency, “Bastek, have you stopped that cadet?”
“Not yet, cap’. Working on it.”
Again stomping the pedals and burning his jets, he jumped inline with the Chameleon. His trajectory would have placed him just behind it, but the cadet came to a full stop as soon as the Wolverine left the ground. Instead, the cadet now had an open view of Larry’s backside. Before he could do anything, two medium lasers lashed his back nearly exposing vital components. Another hit there could end this exercise. As he turned his ‘mech to face his opponent, he saw in his 360° view that the Chameleon dipped behind a cluster of rocks.
Larry paused for a moment. The cadet had made a sound decision by disengaging. The Chameleon had to be boiling at this point. It needed time to cool down, to bleed off the excess heat that would affect the myomer musculature and computer processors. After all, it needed speed to escape. However, in the attempt the cadet had positioned themselves away from the hangar. It was tempting to continue to chase the cadet, but they had shown themself to be cunning. There was too much risk the Chameleon would simply bolt to the opposite side as soon as he made his move.
“Sorry, pal, I’m not in a mood to run circles today.”
Backing away from the rocks, he put himself well outside the jump radius of the Chameleon. His own heat had climbed but was nothing compared to that of the cadet’s ‘mech. Flipping to infrared, he saw the heat eddying from below the rocks. The waves stood out brightly against even the desert heat, and marked the ‘mech. As he waited, the radiating behind the rocks decreased steadily. When it matched the ambient temperature, he knew the cadet would soon make a move. Waiting any longer would only invite the possibility for the rest of Woomack’s company to arrive and corner it. And there was not enough armor for a stand-up fight against the Wolverine. There was only one option.
When the Chameleon broke from cover, it was to Larry’s left at an over 90 km/h sprint. He worked to track it. His targeting reticule briefly flashed from red to green, but not to the warm gold of a lock. He just could not turn fast enough. He pivoted and gave chase, the gap widening as the seconds ticked by. He fired his autocannon, but missed his quarry. He fired his missiles, but they too missed, exploding paint around the feet of the fleet ‘mech. His medium laser connected only to graze the left shoulder. The chase continued, but the cadet did not retaliate. Their goal was only to make it to the hangar to deliver the package and victory.
A small plateau jutting from the desert blocked their flight. Rather than slow, the cadet vaulted the Chameleon over to the other side. Reading the distance, Larry knew he could not clear it, but jumped anyway. Landing atop the plateau he skittered a few scant meters from the opposite edge. He then saw the hangar and was shocked that they both had covered so much ground in so little time. There was no way he could catch up with the cadet, who was almost to safety.
"Bastek!" again called the captain, "what is your status?"
He did not answer. Instead, he planted his right foot forward and raised his autocannon. He aimed at the back of the fleeing cadet. His reticule seemingly refused to change from red to green until by force of will it finally did.
The cadet advanced closer to the hangar.
Green to gold, then green again. The distance increased. The finish line that much closer.
“Bastek, report!”
The reticule finally turned gold and stayed gold with the sweet tone of a high G#. He fired the autocannon. A quintuplet staccato beat rang out with shells impacting the rear centerline of the Chameleon. Paint stippled the back of the ‘mech. It went limp and fell face-forward plowing the earth. Simulated or not, at the speed of a full-out run nothing was quite like a gyro hit.
As Larry jumped from the plateau and started running toward the downed cadet, Woomack called again. “Bastek! Status?”
“Cadet is down, captain. It was a hard fall. Checking now.”
“Good work. Keep me updated.”
Physical combat was prohibited in training sessions; only dummy rounds and powered down lasers were utilized. Despite these precautions, accidents could happen. Injuries could happen. Mechwarriors trained for falls, but they could still cause a concussion or worse. The last thing Larry wanted on his conscience was an injured cadet. His heart was racing so hard it thumped like a bass drum in his ears. He did not even feel this way before gigs anymore. He opened a direct channel.
“Cadet! Cadet, are you hurt?”
It was a nervous moment before her response came through. It was strained and raspy, "I'm okay. Just had the wind knocked out of me, sir."
He breathed a sigh of relief and his bunched shoulder muscles relaxed, "Good." He changed frequency and radioed the captain. "She's okay, cap. Target successfully intercepted."
"Nicely done. Drinks on me tonight. Disengaging training protocols."
Larry subconsciously turned his mech to face the cadet in the downed Chameleon. "Think you can stand?"
Her voice was firmer, more stable now. "My world is spinning a bit, but I can," she replied, and the mech's movements matched the voice as it rose. The front revealed scuffed paint, torn armor, and cracked canopy glass. Larry felt a pang in his chest when he saw the damage. After all, she was a Dragoon.
"Those were some nice moves out there,” Larry said. “If you weren't in a training ‘mech, I would have been in a lot of trouble. What's your name?"
Despite the digitization of her voice over the comm, Larry could hear the smile she wore. "Kathy. Kathy Keegan."
