Текст книги "Way Of The Clans"
Автор книги: Роберт Торстон
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18
Within the first minute of the Trial, the muddiness of the ground hidden by tall grass tripped up Aidan. When he scrambled to to his feet, the front of his jumpsuit was spotted with mud. Glancing back, he saw Joanna glaring at him. He would rather have seen her laughing, for that would have marked him as clumsy rather than inept. Marthe and Bret had gotten ahead of him, and he rushed to catch up.
"We should not stay so close together," Marthe said. "Spread out."
Bret and Aidan each moved away from Marthe, in separate directions. There were no paths in the high grass, no indications that any other cadets had ever passed this way before. Aidan guessed that Techs went over the site after each Trial, scouring and smoothing away any signs of the combat just past. Greenery was probably transplanted to hide scars not so easily removed.
Why was his mind occupied with irrelevant detail? he scolded himself. Must concentrate. Must be alert.
Grass and leaves were stirred up by a slight breeze, which was much less strong than the weather details of the recon survey had indicated. Perhaps that was why Aidan thought he detected suspicious movement in a high tree on his right, a slight twitching of some branches. Whirling, he brought his pistol up and fired where a branch still vibrated. A crashing sound and more activity of the branches followed his shot, but no one fell out of the tree. Then, when the branches stopped moving, they became utterly still. Although Aidan was sure he had disposed of one ambusher, he had no time to verify the kill. Continuing on, it occurred to him that he might have just wasted some of his laser pistol's charge on a large bird. He shoved the weapon back into his belt.
Suddenly he realized that both Bret and Marthe were far away across the field, leaving him alone and vulnerable. Suppressing an urge to run toward them, he decided instead to go on as he was, depending on himself. He rejected Ter Roshak's warning that cadets should cooperate at this stage of the trial. After all, the action of any one of them could get the others killed.
Better to rely on his own instincts and abilities. Aidan felt comforted by his aloneness and wanted no help from Marthe or Bret. His training seemed to have proceeded on a direct line from his sibko dependence to this sense of isolation at the Trial grounds. Having decided to reach for a significant triumph, what would be the point of letting Marthe and Bret get in his way?
As he ran forward toward the thick woods, he thought he saw figures lying in the grass, weapons held at ready, pointed at him. But he soon realized he was dodging shadows, flinching at animals. Taking deep breaths, a difficult process when running at a fairly high speed, he struggled to clear his mind, to force his eyes to see only what was there. Fantasies were of no use to a warrior– a thought he should offer to Dermot for use in one of his sententious lectures.
Aidan had almost reached the rim of the woods. Looking to his left, he saw that Bret was just entering the woods, while Marthe was nowhere to be seen, having no doubt already crossed the line. Aidan did not like being last, and he pushed forward all the harder, passing into the woods quickly enough to just miss being hit by a rifle shot. The shot took away some bark from a tree next to Aidan's shoulder.
Hitting the ground, then drawing the pistol from his belt, he crawled forward in the direction from which the shot had come. The forest floor was damper than the field had been, and it was suffused with peculiar odors. These puzzled Aidan at first, then he guessed that they were oil and burn smells, the residue of old Trials, the kind of battle traces that no sanitation and clearance squad could scrub away.
The sniper—obviously a freebirth for no trueborn would be so stupid as to fire so soon—shot again. He or she could not have known Aidan's location, so the shot was more nerves than sense. And it gave away the sniper's position. Again, the shooter was in a tree. Aidan wondered if that confirmed his suspicion about the first possible sniper.
Angling to his right, Aidan crept toward the sniper. Using techniques he had learned in hand-to-hand combat training, he stirred little greenery, rattled few fallen branches. The darkness of the woods would hide any small disturbances that were unavoidable. The sniper, apparently getting edgy, rocked the branch where he or she sat.
As Aidan came near the sniper's tree, he saw that it was a young woman dressed in camouflage fatigues. Seeing the back of her hand was against her mouth, he realized she was gnawing on her knuckles. And for good reason: she was looking for him and pointing her automatic weapon in the wrong direction.
Aidan took a bead on her, surprised that his hand was shaking enough that he had to steady the laser pistol with his other hand. He had not felt any agitation, but the shaking did not worry him. Joanna had once said that, in a warrior, nerves that were too cool often meant too much numbing of the brain. What he did ponder briefly as he observed the unsteady movement of the pistol's barrel was the wisdom of choosing such a light personal weapon. The range he was sacrificing would be canceled out if his hand shook too much when he was close enough for a good shot. Getting the pistol under control, he gently squeezed the trigger, feeling in his hand the slight vibration of the weapon firing.
The sniper pitched forward. As far as Aidan could tell, he had hit her just behind the ear. She dropped onto the branch, setting it bobbing up and down, then fell to the ground with a quiet thud. Aidan stayed still for a minute, waiting to be sure that no members of the freebirth squad came to investigate the fall of a compatriot. When he was sure that all was clear, he crawled toward the fallen sniper, his pistol held steady now in case she was faking.
She was not faking. She was dead. Looking down on the slightly worried expression that remained on her narrow, birdlike face, he wondered why Ter Roshak, always so concerned with conserving and recycling materials, would put personnel at risk in the Trial. Perhaps it served to sharpen the warriors he turned out in successful trials, justifying the life lost. Still, was it worth this young woman's death?
Aidan had to work at it, but he knew he had to make his mind a blank. This tendency to reflect on events was useless to him, especially at such an important time, at the time of the Trial. The dead sniper was a freebirth, after all. Why should he care about what happened to a freebirth?
Searching her body, he found nothing he could use. He was tempted to take her rifle, but it might be cumbersome, so he decided against it. He would stick with the pistol. It had served him well, so far at least.
Having lost his sense of direction by now, Aidan had to use his compass to start back through the woods again. He moved slowly, prepared for another attack. Seeing some light ahead, he thought perhaps it was the end of the woods.
Off to his right he heard a barely discernible sound of laser firing. Going toward the sound, he came suddenly upon three freebirths, all turned away from him, shooting wildly. Looking beyond them, he saw that they had Marthe pinned down. She crouched behind a tree next to the clearing that would lead to the 'Mechs, not firing, obviously waiting for her attackers to expend their fire.
He could have left her there, getting a head start in his 'Mech and increasing his chances of winning. But this was Marthe, and they had grown up together, and there were still residual (if dormant) loyalties. Besides, Ter Roshak had emphasized that they should function as a unit.
So, with three quick shots, he killed the three free-births. They fell almost simultaneously. He came out from cover and stood over them, then looked toward Marthe. She had walked out a couple of steps into the clearing. They stared at one another wordlessly for a moment, and all Aidan saw on her face was bitter resentment.
19
Most Trial participants are not as efficient as Cadet Aidan in disposing of freebirth opponents during first-stage maneuvers, wrote Ter Roshak. He totaled five kills, the most freebirths ever lost to a single cadet in this ordeal. His shooting was, in fact, better than any of his target-range scores. But that can happen. Many a 'Mech-Warrior's abilities are best tested in actual combat, and no amount of organized measures will predict them.
I am sometimes accused of waste, perhaps the worst blemish on a Clan training commander's records, because I approve risking freebirths in Trial maneuvers. Why not just put in realistic targets, my accusers say, as we do? A target popping abruptly out of the ground has just as much effect against a cadet's alertness as a living freeborn leaping out from underbrush. I believe, however, that I have always been able to successfully defend my position. Once a cadet knows he is being attacked by metal-and-cardboard constructions, it is no longer a true challenge, but a game, a joke, every time he encounters another ridiculous manmade obstacle. It is these constructions that are the real waste—a waste of useful materials for a useless purpose. Yet if cadets defeat, even kill, freeborn trainees in the course of their runs to their Trial 'Mechs, they are honing their own skills and, as a bonus, raising their own adrenaline levels for the important battle to come. Facing a bit of danger helps one to face even more dangers. The cadets do not realize, of course that the game is slanted in their favor. Freeborn weapons have been doctored to make them unable to kill. At worst, stunning the cadet for a few seconds. Even with those odds, I rarely lose a freeborn with real promise in this part of the Trial and I have never lost a cadet. I say that the results support my methods.
As far as waste is concerned, the opposite is true. The Trial is better, its participants perform more skillfully, the training command turns out better and more aggressive MechWarriors. I am satisfied. And so are others, for I am grateful to note that more and more of my colleagues are adopting my methods.
It is also significant that my command has the highest rate of success in training freeborns, which makes the occasional loss of a few in a valuable test situation logistically acceptable. Whether in war or peace, the strategy and tactics that result in either victory or the kind of loss that exhausts the enemy are all that count. Results justify, complaints obstruct. And I am successful enough to turn my head away from obstructions. I have heard that, historically, massacres and slaughters were condemned by people who thought of themselves as "right-thinking." I agree, but I believe that the Clan has countered the blame that such people imposed on events with a control of life as well as death. The number of warriors who fall is calculated precisely. No one should be killed unnecessarily,and that is the key word. There are necessary deaths, necessary massacres, necessary slaughters. That is what the right-thinkers did not realize. If the deaths of a thousand people further the scope and goals of the mission, those deaths are glorious. But one man's unnecessary death is the atrocity. We Clansmen have redefined such words as atrocity and glory.
Even the freeborns perform better knowing that they are part of the Trials of trueborns. Most of them are eager to attack a trueborn, even though they know that Clan society views freeborns as the more expendable of the two genetic categories. No, I see no waste. None at all. Nevertheless, Cadet Aidan's killing of five of the freeborns shocked even me. Then, when he was down temporarily, with a vengeful freeborn standing over him, representing the sixth potential slaying, I was tempted to abort the whole exercise. ...
20
Afterward, long afterward when he had time to reflect upon the entire experience, Aidan decided that it must have been a minor explosion that knocked him off his feet, perhaps from the kind of training grenade used on an obstacle course. Though its charge was light, it could have done some actual physical damage if it had landed closer to him, and it was strong enough to make him unconscious for perhaps one or two minutes. He came to with the sun, newly arrived in the sky, shining behind the towering figure of one of the freeborn ambushers. Even though the figure was in shadow, Aidan could tell that he held a pistol in his hand and was pointing it at Aidan's head. Whether or not the freebirth squeezed the trigger, Aidan was never certain. There was a possibly false memory of a whooshing sound by his ear as he rolled sideways and sprang rapidly to his feet. For once, all those sibko acrobatics, practiced endlessly in calisthenics and team tussles, stood him in good stead. He had not been the most adept at such exercises, but his talents were enough to catch this freeborn off guard before he could shoot again.
Not even trying to steady his own balance, Aidan thrust himself on his attacker, pushing him backward a few stumbling steps, then onto his back with Aidan on top of him. Aidan spotted a hand-sized rock next to his enemy's head and grabbed it. Just before he slammed it against the freeborn's forehead and knocked him cold, he was chilled by the look of icy hatred in the young man's eyes. He read it as the same kind of hatred that trueborns felt for this inferior class. It had not occurred to him that the hatred's intensity could be returned just as strongly, if not more so.
The look enraged Aidan. By what right did free-borns feel scornful of their obvious superiors, even if this one had been chosen to train as a warrior and was thus a cut above his own kind? As if bouncing the hatred back onto the freeborn, Aidan gave the unconscious man an extra blow against the side of his head. His body jerked abruptly and went still. Aidan thought he might be dead, but did not have time to verify the kill.
Standing up, he scrutinized the immediate vicinity, saw no potential danger. Without looking back at his latest victim, he started running toward the 'Mechs again. As he came to a slight rise, he saw Bret already lifting on a field howdah to his Summoner'scockpit. An arm of Marthe's 'Mech was already moving, indicating she was in her pilot seat and ready to engage.
Damn! If that stinking freeborn had not interfered with his progress, he would be piloting his own 'Mech right this moment. Now he was going to be the last to start off.
Lowering his head, Aidan began to run as fast as he could. His head was down because he did not want to watch the others get the jump on him, but he could not keep out the sounds. First came the rhythmic pulse of one fusion engine starting up, then the other, the clomp of one of the pilots testing out the footing of his or her 'Mech, the slight whir of the weapon system being positioned. He knew his ears were deceiving him, but he could have sworn he heard Marthe's muttered curses as she tested out her commlink.
Suddenly he was there, at the foot of his Summoner.Looking around, he saw that Marthe's 'Mech was already heading up the slight hill beyond which the.enemy waited. Bret's was just taking its first step.
And his 'Mech, as if rudely signifying his single opportunity to be a Clan warrior, stood uninhabited. To Aidan, the Summoner's,face glared down at him, as though condemning him for slackness. Aidan stepped into the field howdah, which sensed his weight and immediately and smoothly rose to cockpit-level of the 'Mech. The cockpit hatchway was open, and Aidan virtually dived through it in his haste. He bumped his head lightly against the side of the hatchway. The bump hurt, but he ignored it as he stumbled over his own feet and nearly fell into the command couch.
21
Aidan could never have explained how or why, but he seemed to hear an eerie silence beneath the ever-present noise within the cockpit. All sensors were operational, and he only had to find his way into the command couch, don the neurohelmet, make the proper quick checks, and get the 'Mech itself moving.
A note was taped to a secondary screen. It read: "Welcome to your Trial. Now your real mettle is revealed. No matter that I despise every one of you, I wish you success, [signed] Falconer Joanna." Grunting, Aidan tore the paper off the screen, crumpled it up, and tossed it over his shoulder, where eventually it would be sucked into the waste system and cast out of the 'Mech in tiny shredded pieces. On the screen itself was the set of commands that would activate the 'Mech, a substitute for the checklist that a pilot would normally perform with his chief Tech. Aidan went through the steps rapidly, seeing on the primary screen that Marthe had already reached the crest of the hill and Bret was not far behind. He hadto catch up with them before they disappeared over the hill. It was a matter of honor. Nobody liked to bring up the rear, even less when you were so behind you looked like a straggler. During the forced marches of training, a straggler was ostracized by the rest of a sibko.
In the early training days of Aidan's sibko, the cadet named Dav, whose talent was artistic rather than physical, always had difficulty keeping up with the others. Although the sibkin revered Dav's gentleness and affability, they made his life a living hell until finally he kept up with them on the marches. (Dav never knew that Aidan and Marthe had secretly lightened his backpack before these marches, and was thrilled at what he perceived as his own achievement.) For a time, Dav had actually become a promising cadet, then the training became too severe for him and he flushed out. Like most of the other cadet washouts, he crept silently out of the barracks one night, but, unlike the others, he left behind a well-executed drawing of each of the survivors.
Satisfied that his neurohelmet guidance system was in sync with him, Aidan started his 'Mech on its first step without first testing the legs. It nearly became a costly mistake as the 'Mech wavered from side to side. Concentrating, Aidan executed a perfect second step, and the 'Mech regained balance. To an observer, the Summonerwould have seemed to stride surely and confidently up the hill, reaching the crest much faster than the other two 'Mechs had done.
On his primary monitor, Aidan surveyed the valley, pictorially divided into lines and grids, in front of him. Up ahead, Marthe and her Summonerwalked cautiously, the 'Mech's head moving slightly from side to side as she searched the terrain for her opponents. Bret's 'Mech was lumbering sideways, apparently having detected something.
From his high vantage point, Aidan saw activity beyond a clump of trees. Apparently Marthe had discovered it, too, for her 'Mech started moving quickly toward it, feet crushing greenery into flat, scarred swaths. Switching from grid picture to natural picture, Aidan saw a trio of 'Mechs, Marthe's three test opponents, emerge from cover behind a thick clump of trees. At the same time, Bret's opposing 'Mechs seemed to come out of the ground, though actually they were cresting a hill to Bret's left. And further away than this six, the three that Aidan knew were destined to be his adversaries burst out of a camouflage cover that had looked like a group of high rocks, but that his computer's secondary monitor analyzed structurally as merely a construction. One of them, a Hellbringer,lifted its left arm and pointed it straight at Aidan, a gesture indicating that this was Aidan's first opponent.
He cursed the distance between him and his Trial antagonist, who was too far away for Aidan to initiate his strategy. He could shoot off an LRM salvo, but it would either be blown out of the air or just pass over the Hellbringer'shead like a harmless balloon. He had to get closer, so he shifted his 'Mech to face the other 'Mechs directly, and took the first step toward engagement.
When Marthe fired the first shot of the contest, a cannonade of energy blasts from her right-arm PPC, the vibration rocked Aidan's cockpit. The shots were true, right on line with the torso of one of her opponents. Armor flew off in all directions, some of it as far as the feet of Marthe's Summoner,where it set off isolated fires that quickly burned out.
Starting out aggressively seemed to be Marthe's choice of strategy, for she immediately shot off another volley, hitting the same spot and enlarging the hole she had already opened up in her opponent's armor. Aidan, impressed by her offensive, wanted to shout encouragement to her. The other pilot countered her attack by launching a short-range missile from the left side of his 'Mech's torso, near where Marthe's shots had hit so truly.
Bret was already on the defensive. With a kind of sixth-sense reaction, he expertly leaned his 'Mech's torso to the left so that a fusillade of PPC bolts flew past him. If Bret's Summonerhad had hair, it would have been trimmed a bit, a centimeter or two off the side. Bret fired a cluster round at his rival. Aidan, who could keep track of the others on a side screen, noted that the cluster round was reasonably effective, a real gyro shaker that missed much of the torso, but ripped off a section of the opponent's right knee joint.
Well, he wished Bret luck, but there was no point in keeping track of his battle when Aidan had one of his own to contend with. His foe, the Hellbringer,fired a PPC burst that fell short. Aidan launched a long-range missile salvo, but it was only a feint to lull the pilot of the Hellbringerinto expecting a conventional attack. The full flight of fifteen missiles at the very edge of their effective range, sailed over the 'Mech, which did not even bother to utilize its anti-missile system.
Aidan pressed his Summonerforward and kept his weaponry silent for a few steps. To his right Marthe's 'Mech was rocked by a hit to the center torso. He caught his breath, fearing that she might be toppled, but Marthe regained balance expertly, at the same time chipping the armor of her opponent, also in a Hellbringer,with a short-range missile attack launched from her left shoulder. She had reconfigured her 'Mech to replace its primary LRM-15 system with a heavy Streak SRM-6 mount. Quickly following up on her assault, she set her 'Mech into a run, going straight at the enemy, firing a medium laser that she had installed in the torso. The laser fire seemed to cut a smooth line across the chest of the Hellbringer,sending it rocking backward. Switching to her LB-10X autocannon, she lay down a barrage that caused a series of explosions in the foe's torso. The explosions sent up clouds of smoke. The smoke momentarily obscured Aidan's opponents, too, a stroke of luck that he had not bargained for. He was sure the cheer he let out would have confused any commlink listeners.
He used the smokescreen to help him execute his primary maneuver. As he fired his jump jets, he rose above the smoke, flying over the terrain between him and his trio of rivals. Doing so, he noted that the 'Mech Marthe had attacked was falling, apparently onto its back. Aidan felt his own energy surge with the certainty that Marthe was about to make her first "kill," qualifying her as a MechWarrior who, if she could now finish off a second one, could enter the command structure at a higher level. Her success heightened his own confidence. They had been so close for most of their lives. They looked alike, had the same skills and talents. Whatever one did, the other could surely do, too.
Pushing his 'Mech's jumping capability to the maximum, Aidan flew over his trio of Trial opponents, each of whom was now beginning to turn his 'Mech's torso to follow his flight. As he rose to zenith, Aidan realized he was momentarily vulnerable, but he counted on the factor of surprise to protect him. The last thing expected of him at this point was to try to get behindhis antagonists. He felt the usual wave of dizziness at the high point of the jump, just as his 'Mech started to come down, but not so much that he could not get his weapons ready for the assault that would come as soon as his 'Mech's feet touched ground. Diving down, his 'Mech straining a bit from the drag and weight of all its armament, Aidan verified that the large pulse laser he had configured as an additional right-arm weapon was still at full charge.
He brought his Summonerto a smooth landing on both feet, scattering a number of small animals in all directions, and quickly angled its torso so that it faced the Hellbringerdirectly. Bringing both arms up to a level parallel to the ground, he began firing rapidly at the other 'Mech with everything he had. A surge of heat assailed him in the cockpit, but he had figured he could endure the excess without risking dangerous levels. Everything depended on how quickly he finished off the Hellbringer.
A quick check of his short-range scanner showed that the Hellbringerwas just standing its ground, less than three hundred meters away, as Aidan's Summonerclosed in. The barrage from all Aidan's weapons except the LRM had created many charred and smoking areas in his foe's armor. Glancing at his long-range scanner, he saw that Marthe had indeed beaten one of her opponents, and that Bret, whose battle was going on nearby, was holding his own.
"Cadet Aidan!"
It was Falconer Joanna's voice. He should have known she would interfere. There was supposed to be no communication until the Trial was over, except where Trial rules came into effect.
"You have violated the enemy line. The judges consider it a brave but foolhardy move, and you should know that all three of your rivals may now engage you—that, in fact, all 'Mechs in the field are now eligible to fire. According to Trial rules, you have initiated a melee. I hope you knew that risk when you took the chance, for it may now decide the fate of your fellow sibkin as well as yours."
Of course he had known, but he would not give her the satisfaction of revealing his strategy. An unexpected melee was designed to throw off everybody in the field, including his cadet allies, who would not like the change in situation any more than the MechWarriors assigned to the opposing 'Mechs. He would show her.
After checking his heat scale to be sure he did not risk sudden overheating, he fired one last shot at the Hellbringer,then suddenly rotated his 'Mech's torso abruptly to face an enormous Warhawkthat was just completing its turn to join the skirmish. Next to it, the third and largest of his opponents, a massive Dire Wolf,with its apparent crouching stance and sizeable weaponry, was still in the process of turning. He would try for the Warhawkfirst.
With his pulse laser, Aidan aimed for the joint that connected the Warhawk'sright arm to its torso. Disabling the arm would rob the 'Mech of nearly half its weaponry. He knew from study that a Warhawk,in its primary configuration, concentrated too much of its armament in its arms. Aidan yelled as his shots rang true. The enemy 'Mech's right arm suddenly dropped, still connected but rendered inoperative.
As he had hoped, the Hellbringerclosed ranks, edging in toward the Warhawk.Between them was a large rock. It was time for his calculated risk. Using the left-leg jump jets for a quick leap backward and sideways, Aidan simultaneously released a long-range missile barrage, aimed downward so that it would land between the two enemies, impacting against the rock and sending enough shreds and shrapnel against the two 'Mechs to send them both to the ground.
Even with the jump, his 'Mech was still rocked by the explosion. The Summonercame down on one foot and toppled sideways. It was all he could do to keep his 'Mech upright. Checking his sensors, Aidan learned something about the experienced pilots in the pair of 'Mechs. They, too, had each jumped sideways, away from the impact. The explosion had riven a great hole in the right side of the Warhawk,but it remained upright and functional, despite the extensive torso damage and its disabled right arm. The Hellbringer,however, had fallen onto a patch of trees, which held it over the ground at an oblique angle.
All right, Aidan thought, now it is time to finish off the Hellbringer.Then, with any luck, he would whirl around and get the Warhawk.The latter 'Mech had jumped far enough out of the way to be effectively out of the action for at least a few seconds, especially as it was now showing Aidan its already-damaged right-arm side. The Dire Wolfwas still positioned poorly for encounter.
Any hope that the Hellbringer'spilot was hurt or unconscious because of the fall was dashed when Aidan saw the 'Mech's knees bend into a kneeling position to push itself away from the top of the clump of trees. Its torso rotated ominously toward Aidan's charging 'Mech. Despite the extensive torso damage, verified by the way armor pieces littered the countryside around the Hellbringer,all its weaponry appeared to be functional. PPCs in both arms were blasting at Aidan.
With the 'Mech kneeling, however, Aidan still had the tactical advantage. He managed to maneuver out of the way of some bursts aimed at his 'Mech's right knee. Bringing his own weaponry to bear on the ill-positioned Hellbringer,he rocked it with another salvo of coherent light and elementary particles.
He moved in for the kill. Every one of his senses seemed heightened, almost as though he had developed another two or three. His damage-control screen showed only a few ineffective hits from his adversaries. With a sense of victory expanding his chest, he looked at his heat scale and saw there was no time to lose. He had to act now, or else find a quick retreat to cool down and recharge, giving the second and third opponents a chance at him. He saw that the Warhawkwas, in fact, already getting into position for a good shot at him.
He figured two bursts from his right-arm pulse laser should be the fusillade that earned him qualification as a MechWarrior, and he lined up the Hellbringerin his sights.
