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  The scar over Magnusson's right eye stood out in stark white contrast to his florid features. "I pray, Lady Romano, that you are staring at those mouldering 'Mechs when the Clans take your capital away from you. Then you can lament not believing the Fox when he was telling the truth. There is no way out unless you choose to trust us, Romano. Otherwise you will be caught in a trap of your own making. Remember that when the trap snaps shut."

  Thomas Marik rose again to speak, but Hanse barely listened. Our only chance to defeat the Clans is to band together. "Hang together or hang separately, as they used to say." He glared at Romano. All of us with out heads in the noose, and she's playing with the gallows lever. I hope to God the Clans are as divided as we are. If not, the days of the Inner Sphere are numbered, and those numbers have damned few digits.

  19

  Warrior Testing Center

  Strana Mechty, Beyond the Periphery

  21 July 3051

  Phelan Wolf twisted his gunbelt around and tied the holster down to his right leg. Turning to present himself to Natasha, he tried to force a smile of confidence. "Ready as I'll ever be."

  She returned the smile, but shook her head. "God above, your language has deteriorated."

  "It's the company I keep."

  Natasha slung her arm around his neck and guided him toward the 'Mech bay. "Look, kid, you'll do fine. I've got your 'Mech configured in a way that will do maximum damage. It's unique, like my 'Mech. I tagged your Omni with the name Lone Wolf."

  Despite the big grin on Natasha's face, the younger MechWarrior felt something was wrong. He nodded grimly. "I hope that name's not an omen. I know it's not traditional, but are we working together out there?"

  Natasha slapped the flat of his belly with the back of one hand. "You better believe it. The second I launch on one of your targets, it becomes a free-for-all." Her voice lost some of its jocularity and settled into a colder tone. "I need it like that because I'm going to have to ace my trio and kill one of yours to make these idiots sit up and take notice. Hope you won't mind me stealing one of your targets."

  "Take them all. They're small."

  Her laugh was half-hearted. "Can't do that. You'll have to take one to be put on active duty. That's the only way to get you in my unit." Serious again, she exhaled slowly. "On the other hand, only by taking four 'Mechs will I get a Cluster command. But if that's what it takes to get through the age bias, then I'll do it."

  "I have no doubt that you will succeed, Colonel," Phelan said, though Natasha sounded as though she were still trying to convince herself of that fact.

  "Are you so certain?"

  The young man nodded confidently. "I recall your once saying that old age and treachery will beat youth and beauty every time. Sure, we'll be facing warriors younger and faster than you, but none of them will take either one of us seriously."

  "Except Vlad."

  "Yeah," Phelan said as his mouth soured, "except Vlad. This isn't going to be easy, but if anyone can do it, you can."

  Natasha gave Phelan a sly smile. "Yes, I definitely want you in my unit."

  Halfway down the row of BattleMechs in the hanger, Natasha gave Phelan a gentle shove toward his machine. "Here you go, kid. Warm it up and check all the weapons. I'll be online on Tac 29. We won't be able to communicate once the test starts, but until they give the word, we can exchange data."

  "Roger."

  "Phelan, remember that we have some advantages. They don't know about the configurations of our 'Mechs, but we're running assault 'Mechs that'll outmass any one of them. They're running nonstandard heavies, so we can't be sure what we're up against. The most important thing for you to remember, however, is that this is live. The testers are volunteers who are willing to risk death. That doesn't mean you go out to smoke them, but if it happens, it happens."

  "I know that. With Vlad out there, though, I think they're going to be going directly after me."

  Natasha shrugged. "He'll let the others soften you up first, then he'll take you. Play smart and you'll be ready for him."

  "Thanks. Good luck."

  "Save the luck for the other guys. Old age and treachery will do fine for me." She threw him a wink and headed off to her own 'Mech.

  Phelan paused and looked up at his BattleMech as it stood there waiting for him. Six times his height, the war machine was painted black except in two spots. On the right hip, he saw the red wolf's-head crest of the Kell Hounds, the mercenary unit owned by his family. On the head was painted a mouth with sharp white fangs, war paint reminiscent of the markings on the 'Mech he'd lost when captured by the Clans almost two years ago.

  Phelan made a couple of guesses from the exterior about the weaponry arrayed in the machine. The blocky shoulders were dotted with missile launch ports. The right arm ended in a blocky weapon pod with three laser muzzles poking from it like stubby fingers. The left arm ended in a muzzle, but it bore none of the telltale circuitry he would have expected on a PPC or laser, and it looked nothing like the autocannon muzzle hanging from the weapon pod underslung on the torso.

  A box with six launch tubes was attached above the cockpit, just aft of the hatch. As he mounted the 'Mech, Phelan took a close look at it and decided it was a "fire and forget" packet of missiles. One shot and it's gone. The coding on the side of the launcher indicated that these were short-range missiles. If I have to use them, it will mean that things have gotten a bit dicey. Still, just like wearing this pistol, it's nice to have something for emergencies.

  Phelan dropped into the cockpit, sealed and pressurized it, then brought the 'Mech online. As he satisfied the computer that he was the pilot assigned to the machine, it gave him a full readout of the 'Mech's offensive capabilities. He saw a number of things that confused him, so he switched the radio to Tac 29.

  "Natasha, I have a couple of questions for you."

  "Ask away."

  "The LRM launcher in the left shoulder is loaded with Swarm missiles in its first twelve racks?"

  "Swarms are LRMs that will saturate an area with submunitions. Our foes will be grouped together like Siamese triplets at the start of this operation. Standard procedure is for them to engage us one at a time. You've shown how to really screw them up when you just start nailing anything and everything. The Swarms will ladle out damage generously."

  "But won't that get all of them attacking us at once?"

  Natasha's laugh survived computer modulation intact. "Of course. Would you prefer that they use a strategy that makes them comfortable or uncomfortable?"

  "Point taken. This LBX autocannon has Cluster loads."

  "Shotgun shells. It'll sand all the armor off a foe. Once you've softened him up, your lasers ought to cut him to ribbons."

  Phelan nodded to himself and studied the auxiliary monitor. "Gauss rifle in my left arm?"

  "Great weapon. It uses magnetic currents to launch a ball of ferrous metal about the diameter of a melon. Generates next to no heat and packs one hell of a wallop. The only problem is that its power requirements are fairly heavy. If you try to shoot it and the lasers at the same time, the computer will have to cycle and allocate power, so it will take a bit longer to get your salvo off."

  Phelan looked up and through his cockpit canopy and saw Natasha's BattleMech stride into view. It had the same bird legs as his 'Mech and a cylindrical body built up at the shoulder to accommodate missile launchers. On the 'Mech's right side, Phelan saw the stubby muzzle of an autocannon and a triangular configuration of laser muzzles in the chest. Both arms ended in slender sets of two weapon barrels in an over-and-under arrangement. Natasha's 'Mech was painted black, and the red hourglass marking of a Black Widow spider emblazoned the 'Mech's abdomen.

  Phelan smiled as he read the computer's name for her 'Mech. "Widowmaker? That's appropriate. Looks like you're loaded for bear, Colonel Kerensky."

  "For Wolves, Phelan. I know that isn't precisely the Kell Hounds color scheme on your 'Mech, but you're no longer a hound. You're a Wolf now—we both are."


  Phelan started his BattleMech forward. "Let's go prove it to the others, shall we?"

  * * *

  Two sets of three BattleMechs stood waiting to test the warriors. Their paint schemes allowed the outlines of the 'Mechs to blend with the red rocks and sandy terrain, but the visual trickery did not fool Phelan's weaponry. "I've got my three targets over on the left. I wonder which one is Vlad?"

  "It doesn't matter, does it?" Natasha's 'Mech moved slightly forward of Phelan's position. "Tell you what. I'll mark the 'Mech of yours closest to my set." She sounded tentative, then seemed to recognize it and uttered a soft curse. "Dammit, these young pups won't get to me."

  Phelan said nothing.

  "Sorry, Phelan. I don't like this, but there is no other way to make a difference. When we get the go-ahead, let him have it with your long-range weaponry. I'll toss a barrage of missiles at the Mad Dog, but I'm going to take one of my own targets with my beams."

  "Confirmed."

  Ulric's voice boomed through the speakers in Phelan's neurohelmet. "Natasha Kerensky and Phelan of the Wolves, this is your testing time. Every aspect of your performance will be examined and evaluated. The rating generated by this process will determine your duties until the next testing period. Defeat no enemies and you will lose your status as a Warrior. Defeat one and you will be given a 'Mech assignment. Defeat two and you will earn the right to be a Star Commander. Three kills will earn you the rank of Star captain. Do you understand this, Quiaff?"'

  "Aff."

  "Very well. Natasha, your targets are designated by red triangles on your tactical scanner. Phelan, your targets are blue squares. Your foes already know that defeat here will not reflect negatively on them in any official way. Natasha, Burke Carson is one of your opponents, and Vladimir of the Wolves is set against Phelan. As both of you know, this is very important. Neatness does not count. You have won as long as you are operational and your enemy is not. Even if you have to drag yourself off the battlefield with your arms, you will be victorious."

  Ulric's voice lost power as he opened lines to all the 'Mechs on the battlefield. "Let the testing begin!"

  Phelan dropped the crosshairs on his battle array down to cover the torso of the 'Mech sandwiched between his and Natasha's group. He hit both buttons on top of the targeting joysticks and tightened down on the trigger under his left index finger. He felt a rush of heat as the 'Mech rocked back with the recoil.

  Natasha's flight of LRMs reached the Mad Dog first, so Phelan's missiles screamed into the roiling fireball already consuming the 'Mech. LRMs sprayed the whole torso and peppered its head, blasting armor into ferro-ceramic splinters. Phelan saw the 'Mech stagger slightly, then the Gauss rifle's silvery ball projectile slammed into its left shoulder. The impact crushed armor and spun the massive war engine to the ground. It rolled back toward one of its teammates, but that pilot deftly danced his machine out of danger.

  Phelan pulled his BattleMech back, taking cover behind a low hill. A glance at his secondary monitor gave him a status report on the downed 'Mech, making him shudder. "Computer shows his cockpit was hit. He's dead or wounded, just for a test."

  Phelan worked around to the left, splitting off from Natasha to engage his own testers. Clearing the low hill, he saw one of his targets standing over the damaged 'Mech while the other headed straight toward Phelan's low hill. The computer identified that OmniMech as a Warhawk.

  Stepping up onto the hilltop, Phelan spitted the 'Mech on his crosshairs and fired a second barrage. The twin missile flights bracketed the incoming Clan 'Mech. Missiles exploded armor on the Warhawk's arms and legs, with minor damage to its right flank resulting from two errant warheads. The Gauss rifle's sphere hit the barrel of the PPC mounted in the left arm and skipped along it to slam into the Warhawk's elbow, but it failed to damage the gun before it discharged its particle beam.

  Both of the Warhawk's two arms ended in weapon pods that housed particle projection cannons mated with pulse lasers. The PPC's azure beams sizzled out and stabbed into Phelan's Lone Wolf. One lashed the 'Mech's right arm, flaying armor from shoulder to elbow. The other beam burned a jagged scar down the Omni's right leg, dropping steaming sheets of armor onto the hilltop.

  Phelan's body jerked hard to the right as he fought the controls to keep his 'Mech upright. He moved the crosshairs back on target as the Lone Wolf recoiled from the damage the Warhawk had done. He let it move in forty meters and dipped his 'Mech's right arm as though it had taken more than just damage to the armor. Just how contemptuous of me are you?

  The Warhawk's pilot kept coming and brought its weapon pods up to fire. One PPC beam shot over the Lone Wolf's head, but the other whipped across it like a blue scourge, vaporizing armor and the canopy on Phelan's 'Mech. A stinging mist scorched his exposed arms and legs, but the cabin's depressurization blew most of the molten glass back out. Sparks shot from two or three panels and a secondary monitor died in a puff of smoke.

  The computer calmly informed him that his life support systems had been destroyed, but Phelan knew that was of little concern on a hospitable world like Strana Mechty. The pulse laser fire to the Lone Wolf's left arm had done nothing but melt armor. I have to end this now, or I'm in a serious world of hurt. He forced the pain of his arms and legs away, then let the Warhawk have everything at point-blank range.

  One flight of missiles missed its target, but the second blasted armor from both arms, baring the myomer fibers and workings of the PPC and pulse laser of the Warhawk's left arm. One of the trio of pulse lasers mounted in the Lone Wolf's right shot wide of the Warhawk's body. The other two ruby beams carved armor from the center of the 'Mech's body and its right flank, leaving parallel smoking scars.

  Muzzle flashes from the autocannon strobed into the Lone Wolf's cockpit, and the pungent odor of high explosives filled it. The cloud of metal chewed into the Warhawk on its right side and blasted a huge chunk of armor from the Omni's right arm. The Gauss rifle's ball whistled from the muzzle, catching the Warhawk in the right arm. The limb shivered under the impact and the armor shattered like glass.

  Phelan's left ring finger tightened on the SRM launcher button. The six missiles shot from their box and raced at the crippled Warhawk like sharks heading for bloody water. Three missed the Omni, but the trio that hit did serious damage. One augured into the left arm and exploded, scattering bits and pieces of 'Mech skeleton. Subsidiary detonations sent chunks of PPC and pulse laser whirling away. The missile striking the right arm hit higher up. Though it nibbled away at the 'Mech's ferro-titanium bones, it did no damage to its weaponry.

  The last missile aimed for the Warhawk dead-center, but it detonated prematurely. A boiling cloud of liquid fire washed over the 'Mech and clung to it like a fiery blanket. The pilot tried to pull away from the flames, but the Warhawk had been hammered so badly in a such a short time that it was grossly off-balance. The 'Mech clawed at the earth to remain upright, but succeeded only in raising a cloud of dust. With the screech of stressed metal and the staccato popping of armor plates breaking, the Warhawk crashed to the ground and broke off its own left arm.

  Phelan now looked for the 'Mech his computer had named "Executioner." He couldn't find it on his screen nor could he see it through his viewport. He immediately knew Vlad was its pilot. Dammit! I'm naked here and I don't know where he is.

  The young MechWarrior started his Lone Wolf forward. He stepped down hard on the Warhawk's right knee, snapping the joint. He pumped one round from the Gauss rifle through the 'Mech's right shoulder, sending the Warhawk's arm pinwheeling off in a shower of sparks. "That means you're going nowhere."

  Realizing he had yet to face his deadliest enemy, Phelan's guts started to flipflop. As Natasha had predicted, Vlad had let the others batter the Lone Wolf before he chose to engage it. Convinced that mobility and a continued, long-range duel gave him an edge, Phelan headed down the hill and back toward the Mad Dog's wreckage.

  Adrenaline jolted through his system as he saw movemen
t on his battle display. The Executioner appeared in his aft arc. Phelan cursed the loss of his secondary monitor and shunted a data feed to his auxiliary monitor. Immediately, the computer filled it with an information scan of the OmniMech. He saw that each arm mounted a Gauss rifle and each side of the torso was arrayed with one large laser and two medium lasers.

  Unable to fire any weapons. Phelan cut hard to the right, making the Lone Wolf do a hop-jump that bounced him forward against the command couch's restraining straps. A silver ball skittered through the space he had just vacated. It skipped across the rocky landscape, bouncing off outcroppings of sedimentary rock, striking sparks wherever it actually hit. A second or two later, another Gauss rifle projectile whizzed over the Lone Wolfs head.

  "Shit!" Phelan shot forward, pushing his 'Mech for all the speed it could muster. He broke to the left, then back to the right. He knew that would make him a difficult target to hit, but did not find much comfort in that. I used this same tactic when I fought Vlad for the very first time. It infuriated him because I refused to stand and battle it out like a "civilized" warrior.

  Knowing how much Vlad hated him, Phelan had to admire the man's control. When Vlad fired his first shot, the Lone Wolf had been well within the optimum range for all his weapons. Instead of letting loose with everything, the Clansman had carefully triggered one Gauss rifle and then the other. He's taken the name of his 'Mech to heart. This is not to be a slaughter. He intends it to be an execution.

  Phelan hunkered the Lone Wolf down behind a small mesa and readied all his weapons systems. With all his missiles and the ammo for the autocannon, he could be in big trouble if Vlad managed to get damage through his armor. Touching off a rack of missiles or starting the autocannon ammo exploding would destroy the Lone Wolf from the inside out. Packing only energy weapons and Gauss rifles, Vlad didn't have to worry about explosive ammo getting hit.