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I, Kerensky
by Roguebaron |
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Old Connaught, Arc Royal,
Arc Royal Defense Cordon,
September 23, 3058
My lust had taken control of my decision.
“Attention! This is Star Commander Darien Kerensky of the Wolf Clan. I am bidding my segregation from the Wolf Clan under Khan Phelan Ward. I bring myself and my mech into this Trial of Possession, and I challenge anybody who would stand against me!”
This was unheard of, not within any Clan in any time. Trueborns were proud of themselves. They always regarded themselves as being superior to freeborns. The Wolf Clan regarded my motion to be a degradation of standard. Furthermore, the Trial of Possession was intended for two parties claiming the same thing as their possession. Never before a Trial of Possession be used to grant a quittance of a Clan warrior from his touman. It took a week for me to sway Phelan and Ranna to grant my wish.
I stood alone inside the circle of equal, wondering what in Kerensky’s name I was doing. I went through this Trial of Possession claiming something that had never been mine or any other Clanner’s. I was virtually negating every effort I made to find my true identity. My name would be scratched from the warrior’s list, and building me up would be remembered as the single greatest mistake Wolf Clan had ever done.
But the funny thing was: Evee made me think that those things were worth doing. She opened my eyes that trueborn’s black-and-white life was inferior compared to her colorful freeborn’s way of life. She sucked me into it and she ‘persuaded’ me, in a way that I could not possibly resist, to take a chance and live like what I was supposed to be: a human. She was a barbarian to Wolf Clan, but strangely enough I willingly chose to sell my soul to her.
“This is Mechwarrior Xander of the Wolf,” a Mad Dog prime stepped out of the crowd and into the circle. “You may be a blood-named warrior, but you are a disgrace to the Wolf Clan! I will crush you like a freebirth!”
“This is Khan Phelan Ward of Wolf Clan,” my once commander blared on the speaker. “I am very disappointed at you, Darien. You were born from our finest seed. You were trained in our best program. The Wolf Clan has high expectations in you. Now you want to leave your career for a savage life as a freeborn. Natasha Kerensky would be devastated if she learnt what you did. I should have just dismissed you as dezgra.”
I watched the 60-ton mech trained all its weapons at me. It would be any minute before Xander barraged me with everything he had got. I knew that I outweighed him by 35 tons, but he was the first of a string of mechwarriors that sought for instant glory. I had to minimize my damage against him. So I quickly aligned my twin LBX20’s, fully-repaired and fully-loaded, put the crosshair at the Mad Dog’s torso and fired off. A stream of fragmented rounds leapt from my nozzles and pounded the Mad Dog, chewing its armor like heated blades through butter, and overloading the gyros. The bird-like heavy mech swayed comically before slumping to the hard plaster, kicking off dirt and pebbles into the air.
“Yield,” I intimidated him to save me from further damage. “You are not a worthy opponent. I do not want to kill you. Yield, and you can still find glory when you are ready.”
“You talk like freebirth!” Xander hissed on the comlink while bringing his mech back on its feet. “Now die as a freebirth!”
My proximity alarm screamed. The young Wolf mechwarrior had me on his crosshair, and fired his missiles. I knew it was a rushed shot, so I sidestepped before the swarm speared the air where I had been a moment ago. His lasers followed his warheads; some raked me squarely on the center, raising a cloud of ferro-fibrous mist. I raised both arms to bring my ballistics to bear. My twin 250-millimeter cannons roared, vomiting fragmented shells that shredded Xander’s right arm and torso, setting them ablaze. My lasers made their ways toward the Mad Dog’s stripped torso, and the right missile launcher blossomed into an orange fireball.
Xander teetered in his mech, but he was a defiant mechwarrior. As soon as he regained his footing, he fired his missiles from point blank range. I flinched, but four missiles rammed themselves onto my right side. Several explosions jerked my mech, but I quickly regained control. Xander lit the air with his barrage of lasers, two of which perforated my left torso. A ton of armor was gone. I reversed but he charged me with his lasers, thinking that he could push me out of the circle of equal. I let him think that way, and right on the edge of the circle, I yanked my joystick hard to the left.
My mech pivoted and turned 90 degree to the left. Xander, still charging me dead on, put a break on his mech before he stepped out of the circle. I resume walking in reverse while looping a bit to the left. Now Xander’s back was facing the edge of the circle. I lined up my crosshair at his left side and hit my alpha strike. The untouched armor on his left gave way to my scattered-shots, busting the internal structure. The momentum of the explosion pushed the Mad Dog behind. Staggering, Xander’s mech writhed to keep on its feet, and involuntarily stepped out of the circle of equal.
Like I said, I did not want to kill him.
“I claim victory over Mechwarrior Xander,” I proclaimed my triumph. “Is there anybody else?”
“This is Star Commander Aileen of the Wolf Clan,” a Summoner C entered the circle. “A lot of warriors looked up to you, Star Commander. Now that you wish to consciously disgrace the Wolf Clan, let me be the one that erases your name from the Remembrance.”
I did not have to read the specs of a Summoner C to notice that this variant was a brutal brawler. The mammoth UAC20 on its left arm could lay waste to my mech, and even though I could move past it, it could seriously hurt my mech. The big gun was my primary target.
The Star Commander opened up her attack by a zigzag while relentlessly pumped out her streak missile. I ducked but my mech caught several missiles on the hip, one fatally weakened my right kneepad. My speed dropped 10 percent. The Summoner hit its jump jets and aimed its left arm at me. I cringed, knowing that there was not enough time for me to escape this onslaught. But I did push my joystick to the left. Chunks of ferro-fibrous armor flew to all direction, following a deafening crunch. My right torso split into two, just above the rotating gyro. I smelled coolant, and I knew I did not have much time. I had to finish it quickly before I overheated.
Smelling blood, Star Commander Aileen nicked me again with her lasers. I keeled over, but her medium grazed my left shoulder. My mech staggered in its feet, coping with the sudden loss of mass, but I let it sway for a moment. I wanted her to press her attack, to build her confidence, so she would cook herself out. And it worked. She trained her weapons at my center and attacked me with all available weapons. Her right arm glowed, a second later my right torso lost another layer of armor. Another wave of Streak missiles sacked my midst, pillaging the armor. My armor tracker turned bright yellow. I held my joystick hard, keeping my mech standing. As I regained balance, the Star Commander aimed its UAC20 at my midst, then suddenly realized she could not take another shot without getting shut down. Excessive use of lasers, missiles, and jump jets had taken its toll.
“My turn,” I said, raising both arms while Aileen flushed about half of her coolant, trying to get her mech to firing condition. But the heat slowed her down. I put my crosshair at her UAC-laden arm, then fired my twin LBX20’s. Smoldering ferro-fibrous, fire, smoke, boisterous booms, all went up in one explosion. The Summoner rocked and twisted, its right arm dangled with only a few strands of myomer and cables. It realigned its crosshair, but I sprinted toward her right blind spot, firing my laser to keep her off balance. She swung her right hand, trying to slice me with her laser. One went flying above my head, the other zipped pass my right arm. I kept my movement, circling the 70-ton brawler, until I heard the clang, marking my readiness. As she eagerly turned toward me, I waited until I got a clear shot at her arm. My alpha strike consumed her upper arm in a brilliant flash. Burning shrapnel rained down the circle of equal, and when the smoke cleared, her right arm was gone, taking the laser weapons with it.
“I am offering you a chance of Hegira, Star Commander Aileen of the Wolf Clan,” I spoke through the external speaker while assessing my damage. “You cannot continue this battle with only one weapon. Wisely take my offer, and resume your quest for glory another day.”
“I would rather die, Stravag!” her reply was short, cold, and vile.
I checked my coolant level, and realized the container was only half full. I had to use my lasers wisely. Aileen launched her answer: six Streak missiles jetted toward me. I twisted to the right, letting the missiles slammed into my left side. The armor tracker went orange. But I could not afford another hit on my right. If the leaking coolant ooze caught fire, I would get shut down. I brought my mech to a complete stop and fired my laser at Aileen’s busted right torso, straight into the hole where her right arm should have been. The beam went deep into the reactor core. Blue sparks spewed from the Summoner before it disintegrated in a gigantic fireball.
“I claimed victory over Star Commander Aileen,” I said. “Is there anybody else that opposed me?”
“This is Star Captain Ephraim Vickers,” a Timber Wolf entered the ring. “You are a fine mechwarrior, Star Commander. It is a great loss for Wolf Clan that you die. But what must be done, must be done.”
This was a bloodnamed warrior in a very dangerous mech. I still outweighed him by 20 tons, but I had a coolant leak and chomped armor. One unfortunate shot from the fresh Timber Wolf could put me in jeopardy. I had to be really careful in my attack.
The Timber Wolf walked the circumference of the circle of equal, training all guns at me, sizing me up. I mimicked his move, walking in the same direction while putting my crosshair squarely at its midst. This game went on for about five minutes. Nobody started the fight. He knew I had a leak, and he knew I did not have much time. He wanted me to hit him first, because he was latching on to the leak on my right side. I had to start the fight quickly, but if I shot him, his counterattack could be devastating. So I stopped my mech and spoke loudly on my speaker, “Star Captain Ephraim Vickers does not have an intention to fight me. I claim victory over him!”
“That is nonsense!” Ephraim rebuked. “He is the one that does not fight me! He is dezgra!”
“I already scored two victories in this circle of equal,” I proclaimed. “Khan Phelan, if he does not start the fight soon, I demand my third victory.”
“Ephraim, start fighting or step aside for the next combatant,” Phelan replied.
My strategy worked. Ephraim was forced to draw first blood, thus exposing his weak side. His missile boxes flickered, sending a barraged of missiles. I pushed the throttle to maximum and flinched to my left, away from the warheads. Some missiles scraped my shoulder, turning the armor tracker to orange. I raised my right arm, trailing the Timber Wolf, and send him my answer. The scatter shot dug deep into the armor, pulling off cracks on its right torso. Its machine gun roared, followed by four strings of lasers. I heaved my joystick as far to the left as I could, bringing my mech running on the side of the circle. I fired my left LBX20, but the Timber Wolf ducked. For the first time in this Trial of Possession, I missed.
Ephraim continued on his assault, pumping out all missile orifices and discharged his warheads as soon as his weapons recycled. I jerked behind to dodge his attack, but half of the missiles sliced my left arm. Warning alarms wailed raucously for the loss of struts and actuators. The shockwave almost threw me off my feet. I gritted my teeth as tremendous tremors overwhelmed my senses. My control panel burst, my communication screen broke, spreading flaming LCD goo and acrid smoke all over the cockpit. The armor tracker on my left arm went blinking red. I knew what it meant.
Ephraim dashed forward, firing his lasers at my right knee. The kneecap split into two, spurting sparks and smokes, reducing my mech into a limping platform. I returned fire with my lasers. The twin barrel on my torso flashed in unison, discharging millions of joules. Ephraim rolled left in the nick of time, eluding the strands by a mere centimeter, then fired his missiles again, half of which plunged into my torso. The armor tracker went red as I strived to keep standing. My mech was a mess: only 15 percent armor remained on the center torso, left arm almost blown off, coolant leakage, and destroyed knee. I could not use my speed anymore. The only way I could win this round was frontal attack that negated most of Ephraim’s long-ranged weapons. I did, nevertheless, outweigh Ephraim by 20 tons. I had to use it to my advantage.
“Now I am offering you a Hegira, Star Commander Darien Kerensky,” Ephraim gloated. “Like I said, the Wolf Clan will be dearly bereaved if you die. Just forget your intention to live with barbarians, and work under my trinary. I will overlook all the disgrace that you made.”
“With all due respect, Star Captain, I refuse,” I spoke calmly. “I have chosen my future.”
Having said that, I hit my alpha strike. The Timber Wolf staggered hard to keep standing, but it quickly returned fire. Emerald beams lanced from the tubes, straight into my right torso. My tall mech swayed to cope with the impacts and loss of mass. His missiles flew again. I twisted to the left, sacrificing the armor on my right side. My head throbbed in pain as chain reaction consumed my mech, threatening to rip it apart. One of the missiles torched the leaking coolant. Major fire broke out, engulfing my right torso, raising the temperature several notches up. The fire destroyed the internal structure, and within seconds, I lost my laser on my right torso.
But I refused to go down. For Ephraim, this fight was another contest. For me, it was my life. I was standing up for my choice. I raised my right arm and busted Ephraim’s left torso. I pivoted, brought my left cannon to bear, and hit the Timber Wolf just before it shot me. The sudden change in direction threw its marksmanship. Four strands of laser zipped two meters away from my left arm. He pounded me with his missiles, but at 90 meters, his long-ranged missiles were all but useful. I barked my right LBX20, and at 90 meters, the effect was devastating. The fragmented shells slammed into the mid torso, twisting the 75-ton mech. Smoke billowed from the cracked torso, a sure sign of internal damage.
Nevertheless, the bloodnamed warrior was relentless. He fired his lasers, hoping to catch me with a lucky sucker punch. Two of his lasers landed on my left leg, which was virtually untouched. I lined up my crosshair at the gaping hole on Ephraim’s torso and fired my laser. The emerald beam torched the ammunition feeder for the missiles. A series of reaction tore the Timber Wolf from inside, ripping its limbs and destroying the engine. The bird-like mech twisted and shuddered before crumbling to the ground.
“I claim my victory over Star Captain Ephraim Vickers,” I announced. “I demand…”
“A victor, you are indeed,” a familiar voice crackled in my comlink as a Warhawk stepped into the ring. “But this Trial is far from over. I am Star Colonel Ranna Kerensky, leader of 4th Wolf Guard Assault Cluster. I refute your demand, and I bid myself, my mech, and Wolf Clan’s approval to this Trial.”
“Does that mean if I win you would grant my wish?”
“If you win,” Ranna chuckled. “Do you really think you can win? You have lived with freebirths for too long that your skill has deteriorated. If your mech were any less than an Executioner, you would have been defeated. Might as well take a Hegira, Darien!”
“Neg, Ranna,” I firmed my grip on the joystick. “Fight me!”
Ranna was the last and the best warrior I had to fight. It was unfortunate that I had to do this at the worst of my mech. My left arm was almost gone, my torso was almost stripped from armor, and fire ravaged my right torso, rendering my laser useless. The more I thought, the more I accepted my disadvantage. With my mech’s current lacerations, I would not be able to fire my weapons simultaneously without excessive heating. And a short burst of Ranna’s PPCs would knock out my reactor. I had to shield my reactor at all cost.
As the Warhawk reached 20 meters, I slammed my feet on the pedal. My mech tottered on its limping leg, and I trained my entire guns at Ranna’s left torso. Reddish flames sprouted at my nozzles as I fired my lasers, followed by a blistering roar of my LBX20s barking in unison. I knew I had to take the initiative. The 85-ton machine jerked behind; its chest bleeding sparkles and coolant. Ranna’s left torso glowed and belched; her arms flailed uncontrollably, trying to regain balance that almost escaped her.
The Warhawk could withstand my alpha strike, mine would not withstand hers. So I dragged my feet around her, trying to get out of her firing arc. But my mech was almost done for. The last alpha strike spiked my heat level to orange. My eyes started to get obscured because of the heat and the sweat. Ranna pivoted and twisted as far as she could. My lasers almost came to the end of recycle time when two streaks of particle beam lanced my left arm. Blue sparks burst from my arm as my left LBX cannon flew a dozen meter to the left. The sudden loss of mass almost toppled me, but I tugged my joystick as hard as I could. My Gladiator veered hard to the right, and regained its balance.
A PPC was a dangerous weapon not only because it had incredible destructive power, but also it fried the delicate circuitries. My targeting reticule went out. So now I had to rely on my own eyes. Ranna aimed her left arm at my center, but I fired my right LBX20. My shot was not enough to do serious damage, but it was enough to scatter her aim. Two streaks of PPC beams flew above my right shoulder by a mere centimeter. The missed beams streaked through the void and despoiled a building. I followed up with my lasers to her midst, but they only singed two darkened spots on the squat, well-armored torso.
The Warhawk flexed its feet to change direction sprung out of the building and fired its missiles. At only 50 meters apart, Ranna’s long-ranged missile performed just like a short-ranged Spheroid missile. I dodged the poorly aimed warheads easily and rolled to the right to take an aim at her mangled left torso. My LBX cannon blasted, but somehow Ranna expected this. Her Warhawk twisted left, missing most of my fragmented shells, then stretched its right arm and fired its twin PPCs. The bluish light strands slammed into my left torso, grilling my last remaining armor and incinerating the internal structure.
My eyes were obscured by sparks and smoke as a vigorous quake enveloped the cockpit, nearly throwing me out of my seat. My innards felt like jumping up to my throat. Warning message stabbed my ears, and acrid smoke filled the cramped cockpit. For several minutes, I did not know what was real and what was not. When everything calmed down, my vision was a mix of red stars and blurry sight of consoles in the cockpit, but I could see where I was standing. My entire left torso was gone. My speed was reduced to 20 percent. I had only half my weapons, and a paper-thin armor. And my coolant had drained dry, and what was left caught fire. My mech was a complete mess.
I felt like my wish to be a human would end as a plain Wolf Clan mechwarrior that died in the circle of equal. Just like Star Commander Aileen, Ephraim Vickers, or any other mechwarriors that I might have killed during many trials that I had won. It never dawned on me that I would throw my life for a dream. Yes, a powerful dream, but a vain one. I should have known that I would always be a Clanner.
But my mech was still running, probably drinking the last bit of juice. I had one last chance to answer Ranna. I knew the chance of winning this duel was close to none. Her fresh Warhawk was no match against my dying mech. But at least I would die with honor. I put the 85-ton assault mech under my targeting reticule and raised my remaining arm. Ranna flinched to my left, but it was exactly what I wanted. I twisted a bit and fired everything I got left. The emerald beam streaked through smoke, and stabbed Ranna right on her left torso, while my fragmented shell ripped the internal structure apart.
I never believed in luck, but after today, I would never question its existence anymore. Ranna’s left torso disintegrated in a yellow fireball, shuddering the assault mech. The Warhawk jerked behind, and its wobbly knees could not cope with the abrupt change of mass. It crashed to the ground, squirming vainly as the ammunition bins tore up its torso from inside.
It looked like the fight was over, but I knew Ranna was an ace. It was not over until she yielded, or until she was dead. I did not want her dead. She was an irreplaceable member of Wolf in Exile, and her death would severely hurt the Clan. So I whipped my mech, bringing it close to the Warhawk, and shoved my right cannon at her midst, pinning her to the ground.
“Yield, Ranna,” I spoke through my external speaker.
“You stravag!” Ranna spat. “Go ahead! My splash explosion will take you down with me!”
“I am already a lost cause to Wolf Clan,” I emphasized on each words. “But you… you are Wolf’s pillar of defense. Think of the future of the Wolf Clan. Think of Phelan. Think of how the balance of power would shatter if you die. You are too valuable to die, Ranna. Yield, and just let me go.”
There was a long pause. I understood what was going through her head. As a Kerensky, Ranna had her pride. But so was I. I guessed it was not too humiliating for Ranna to lose from another Kerensky. Her reply came in short but firm burst, “Aff. I yield.”
I could hear myself heaving a deep, long breath. As I climbed out my mech, Phelan met on the ground. His eyes told me that he was hurt. “Well, there you have it,” he said somberly. “You won your freedom. It is a shame that you leave us, Darien. This day will leave a dark page on the Remembrance. I just hope that none will take your path.”
I did not know what to say to him.
“Now go and claim your prize,” the khan stepped back, then turned his back on me. I stood there waiting for him to assist Ranna, then walked away from the scene. Deep inside, I felt bad. I was a Wolf. I was a Kerensky. I was using up my privileges to do a thing I was not even supposed to think about. Phelan was brokenhearted, and it was because of me.
However, I could not lie to myself. The Wolf Clan was not my home anymore. I had found a new home, and I won it fair and square in the circle of equal. Not even Phelan could deny me from going home. No, it was not Engadine, not Hogye, New St. Andrews, or the Inner Sphere. I had found my home in Evee. |
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