"I'll say." Phelan smiled proudly. "Damn, it feels good to be back in a 'Mech. I wish Ranna could see me in this thing."
"She can."
Natasha's remark coincided with another Kit Foxmoving from behind a low hill approximately 450 meters to Phelan's right. It appeared just beyond the bar that marked the edge of his firing arc, and brought up an arm that ended in the muzzle of an autocannon. Phelan saw a flash, then felt his 'Mech rock with the impact of a volley. He fought to control it and kept the machine upright. Still, before he could bring his machine around, the other Kit Foxvanished.
"My God, she's using live ordnance! Is she crazy?"
All levity dropped from Natasha's voice. "No, she's just doing her job. I told you before. Simulators are for kids. Her shells are underpowered, just as are your lasers. That goes for the other two Foxeshunting you out there."
Phelan swallowed hard as the computer assessed the damage to his armor. "That stuff may be down-powered, but it still ripped up some armor. This is just a training exercise."
"You'll have to watch your step because you can get killed out here. That's the problem with simulator combat. Even if you screw up, you get another chance. But a real battle never offers that sort of mercy."
"But Natasha, that's crazy. Think about how many perfectly good MechWarriors you must lose in these live-fire exercises."
The tone of her reply was cold, but Phelan sensed that the anger was not directed against him. "Good, perhaps, but not perfect. And that's what we aim for. Son, sibkos start out with a hundred or more children, but by the time the majority reach your age, they're down to thirty or less. Some die and some just leave the sibko. I don't know if it's right, but that's the way it's done."
She continued on, a trace of anxiety seeming to edge her words. "The breeding programs keep producing better and better warriors, but sometimes I wonder if it makes that much difference. By the time you're ready to test out, I guess we'll both learn the answer to that question."
Phelan shook his head. 'The only answer we can accept is that, no, it cannot make that much difference."
"Maybe that's it, Phelan. What we'd have to prove is that someone who's been trained in a different system can match the Clans' best, and that one of the best from long ago is still damned good."
"I'll take one half of the assignment if you'll take the other."
"Bargained well and done." The fire returned to Natasha's voice. "And watch your contractions. You youngsters should really speak well, you know."
"I hear and obey." Phelan turned his 'Mech from the firing line. "You fighting in this exercise, or just along for the ride?"
"Today I am an observer."
"Then out of my way." Phelan wiped his perspiring hands on his cooling vest, then took hold of the joysticks again. "The odds are not quite to my liking, but I have never backed down from a fight. Let us see if your people are really as hot as they think."
* * *
Natasha watched the mechanical figures move across the quartet of screens without actually seeing anything. My God, they all move so flawlessly. Have the sibkos really come this far in the time I've been away?A slight chill ran over her and suddenly she began to feel her true age. The long decades of battles, death, and destruction descended upon her with all the weight of a DropShip.
"Natasha?"
Ulric's voice snapped her out of her dark thoughts. "My Khan." She blinked her eyes, then reached out and touched a button on the console, freezing the four images. Using another dial, she slowly brought the room's lights up, but not too bright. "I have been reviewing the battleroms for Phelan's first training run."
The Khan stroked his goatee. "And?"
"And I think the sibkos have done superior work turning out well-trained and disciplined MechWarriors."
"Indeed." Ulric gave her a small smile, as if to say he'd anticipated her answer. "How would you say Phelan Wolf stacks up against them?"
Natasha allowed herself a wry grin of her own. "He's rough around the edges, though I imagine that's more from inactivity than lack of skill or training. Our MechWarriors can outshoot him now, but that advantage won't last long once he gets used to the new weaponry. If Phelan had been in a 'Mech the equal of Vlad's, he'd never have been captured on The Rock. We both know that."
Ulric dismissed her statement with a quick wave of the hand. "Hypothetical. Will he be able to test out in four months, Quiaff?"
"I believe so."
"And will you?"
Ulric's question squeezed Natasha's heart. "Excuse me?"
"You needed to study those battleroms only once to come up with your assessment of Phelan's performance, Quiaff?I saw his talent right away, as did Cyrilla. I must therefore assume that your continued review was an attempt to assess the skill level of those against whom Phelan fought. I also assume that you were measuring them against yourself."
"I appreciate your concern, Ulric, but how can the fate of one MechWarrior be so important to you?"
"You would be surprised, Natasha, at the importance I attach to you and Phelan." He folded his arms across his chest. "In your case, my political opponents are opposed even to allowing you to test out as a warrior at your age. Of course, if you fail, I will simply tell them that courtesy demanded I permit you to try."
"How convenient."
"Your victory would help to demonstrate their pitiful shortsightedness. If you do, indeed, test out, I will need to know in advance in order to make the most of the opportunity."
Ulric's voice became less confrontational as he explained himself, but still Natasha felt as though he had her under an electron microscope. "You wear a Khan's mask well, Ulric. You do the House of Kerensky proud."
"Coming from you that is most welcome praise." He turned to face the bank of monitors. "So, is the Black Widow still as deadly as ever?"
Natasha's blue eyes narrowed into a killing glare, but Ulric did not notice. "As you know," she said, "Black Widows only kill their mates, not their offspring." She stabbed a finger at the monitor that contained Ranna's battle ROM image. "Ranna is very good. The others are adequate, which is to say better than the standards set forth by the Successor States."
"You avoid my question," Ulric said sternly.
Always probing, always searching. You are, indeed, a Khan.Natasha shook her head. "Not avoiding, my Khan, merely considering my answer. Watching their performance in a training exercise, I can judge them only as a spectator. I cannot say how they would perform in battle against me, and that is what you are asking me. Would I control the battle and force them into foolish moves? If so, all the training in the world would mean nothing. I would own them."
"So you need more input before you can answer, Quiaff?"'
"Aff." Natasha felt her stomach twist into a knot. Being a MechWarrior is not all reflexes and youth. Experience counts for more than the Clans have ever admitted. This I know to be true.
She looked up and saw Ulric staring at her. She had to force a thin smile. "Have no fear, my Khan. I will test out."
Or I will die in the attempt.
11
Wolf's Dragoons General Headquarters, Outreach