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Angel 6
by David Wainio |
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Stark Hills near Holth Forest
Tukayyid
19 May 3052
Ghost Bear warrior Malek came down in a whoosh of jets and the clang of metal feet on the hard rock. The armored Elemental solider scanned the crevasse below and banged the side of his head area with the claw that made up one hand. That helped a little as the fuzz playing across his viewplate cleared a bit. Earlier in the day a PPC bolt had splintered a tree next to the Elemental warrior. The feedback from the close strike had fried some of his sensor gear. He’d been getting weird ghost images and false readings every sense the near miss.
There was the stravag Spheroid scout ‘Mech just where the Star Captain had said it would be. Considering the likely footing down there Malek elected to clamor down the slope rather than risk damaging an ankle or knee by jumping. He sunk his claw onto the bottom of the cockpit hatch and pulled at it. The battered hatch came away entirely in his ‘hand’. A quick inspection showed battle damage to the hinges. He pulled himself up and looked within only to find a burned out mess.
He dropped back to the ground. His orders were to ascertain the fate of all the freebirth pilots. This one had not ejected but might have somehow exited through the broken hatch. Although from the pounding that this lightweight machine had taken it seemed highly unlikely that the pilot within could have survived long enough to be killed by the internal fire. Fire or weapon blow throw, either way the freebirth was almost assuredly dead. Malek glanced around to see if there was anyplace a cowardly Inner Sphere MechWarrior might crawl to and hide in but his onboard electrical problems grew suddenly worse. An ear piercing wail assailed him and wincing in pain he jumped for the top of the ridge. His view cleared somewhat and the howling stopped as he regained the ridge top. Something inside that burning husk was interfering with his messed up sensors. Stupid IS techs had never learned to properly shield anything anyway. What little electronic shielding that smoldering wreck below had started with was now probably burned away.
“Star Captain Toren Bjorn. This is Point Commander Malek. Target designate Tango Six is confirmed dead. Moving to the next grid coordinate”
Quina
Terry stirred as his name intruded on his dreamless slumber.
Wake up
With a groan Terry opened his eyes but it was dark outside now.
“Do you hear that?” asked the whispered voice.
“Huh?” Terry felt nauseous and groggy. His throat was raw, his leg ached like the devil. “whatisit?”
Then terry picked it up too. Voices. Very faint. Calling to each other.
“Search teams,” whispered the voice. “Ours. Turn on your emergency beacon and use the flare gun.”
“Hector”? asked Terry groggily as he pawed at his survival kit. He didn’t remember bringing it from his ‘Mech but he must have. After all, it was right here at hand. In the darkness be
managed to give the tracking cylinder the half twist required to activate the short range beacon. Then he grasped the smooth grip of the flair gun.
“Easy where you aim that thing. Okay, that’s good. Let it rip.”
Terry was too tired to sit up. He was aiming the one shot gun down towards his feet but angled up. He pulled the trigger and the yellow flair jumped out spitting sparks. He suffered a few minor burns about his waist by firing it that close to his body but was beyond caring. The burns were mere pin pricks against the agony of his throat and leg.
In the brief glare of the flair Terry caught a quick glimpse of Hector. The shadows and streaking light conspired to make it look as if half his face was lost. Although even as Terry lay back clutching the fired pistol he was already doubting that he had seen Hector at all. It was probably just the rounded bulge in the boulder supporting his metal lean-to.
Don’t give up on us he thought he heard someone whisper as he drifted off into his pain filled haze once again. |
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