Hanse burst from his suite, startling the two guards at his door to attention. Barefoot, he sped past them and down long marble corridors he'd not run through since the nearly forgotten era of games with his brother Ian. At the end of one corridor, he slapped the button to summon the elevator, but then dashed away impatiently and flew down the stairs. Three flights later, deep in the ground beneath the Palace, he reached his goal.
Chest heaving with excitement and exertion, the Prince flicked on the lights in the 'Mech bay. The cavernous room, bereft of the battalion of 'Mechs belonging to the Heavy Guards, dwarfed the sole 'Mech inhabiting it. Tall and humanoid, with a massive, pistol-like PPC in its left hand, the 'Mech looked down on him the way he imagined a warhorse might have regarded the knight who rode it.
Hanse was smiling as he sprinted across the open bay toward the rope ladder hanging down from the 'Mech's cockpit to the floor. It's been a long time . . . far too long.He eagerly scrambled up the BattleMaster'sbroad chest. They've brought the war to me because they've forgotten. They've forgotten that before I became Prince of the Federated Suns, a command couch was my throne, a neurohelmet was my crown, and the battlefield my domain. After tonight, no one will ever forget that again.
* * *
The BattleMaster'slong-legged gait ate up the five kilometers between the Palace and the NAIS campus like a cheetah chasing an antelope. Hitting top speed, Hanse sped his 'Mech through the Davion Peace Park, leaving two-decimeter-deep footprints behind him. Aware of his surroundings in the vaguest way, he avoided the monuments scattered throughout the park only because of the damage a collision might do to his 'Mech. Gone was the Prince who had presided over the tearful dedications of these memorials; the 'Mech's cockpit held a man whose sole concern was tactics and strategies of combat.
The flames billowing from the NAIS dormitories silhouetted most of the Death Commando 'Mechs and threatened to burn out his infrared display. Without conscious thought, Hanse shifted the scanning mode over to normal light as he barreled into the fray. The PPC in the BattleMaster'sleft fist cored the aft armor on a Panther,spitting armor-shards and melted parts out in its backwash. The Pantherpitched forward, then exploded when the fusion engine consumed its SRM magazine.
A Marauderturned around to face him. It stabbed one massive arm in his direction, but Hanse angrily batted it aside with the BattleMaster'sright hand. The Marauder'sPPC blasted into a small guard house, its cerulean thunderstrike blowing the building into brick dust and fiery splinters. The Liao 'Mech, having missed its first strike, pivoted to bring its other arm into play.
Sitting tight in the BattleMaster'scockpit, Hanse Davion shook his head. No way do you get behind me!He leaned his 'Mech into the Marauder,jamming into the thorax with his shoulder. The ungainly Liao 'Mech tottered, then landed on its back, clawing at the sky like an overturned turtle.
Seeing movement on the 360-degree display, Hanse swung back to the left. His PPC pistol-whipped the humanoid
Griffin
Alerted by frantic calls from the Marauder,the other Death Commandos turned from their wanton destruction to face the Assault 'Mech in their midst. Hanse cursed them silently. Damn! There are so many of them!Grim determination filled him, and outrage burned in his veins. To hell with the odds and the numbers. They've attacked my home. If I'm to die in this war, let it be here.
Hanse dropped his targeting crosshairs onto one Locustand fired all four of his forward lasers. The four beams focused on the birdlike 'Mech's chest, slicing it open like a surgeon's scalpel. The beams lanced through the fusion engine, letting superheated plasma leak from the 'Mech's heart like puss from a boil. In a flash of heat and brilliant light, the Locustvanished.
Hanse ducked his ponderous war machine to the right as the enemy returned fire. He ignored the shafts of coherent light that melted scars across the BattleMaster'sbroad chest as he discarded the shattered remains of his PPC. He barely felt the shower of short- and long-range missiles peppering the 'Mech's flesh, pockmarking it with craters. For all the thunder of explosions and the rainbow of lights that made up the Liao counterattack, none of it breached his defenses.
The BattleMasterreached out for and grabbed the right arm of the downed Marauder.Hanse set his 'Mech's right leg against the Marauder'storso, crushing armor and warping the other 'Mech's skeleton. With a heave of myomer muscles, the Battle-Masterripped the Marauder'sarm free. Sparks shot from the ruined shoulder, the metal and armor screaming as though the Marauderwere alive and protesting its maiming. Like Beowulf raising Grendel's severed arm, Hanse Davion brandished the limb triumphantly at his foes.
Except for those moments that burned into his consciousness from stroboscopic explosions or the harsh glare of a PPC's azure fury, the scene was a blur for Hanse. The BattleMasterlunged forward like a bear into a pack of wolves. A Stingerignited its jump jets in an effort to escape him. It rose too slowly on twin columns of ion flame, so the BattleMaster's shoulder hit it at the knees. Upended, the light 'Mech slammed headfirst into the ground behind the Prince of the Federated Suns, crushing the cockpit and killing the pilot instantly.
Charging into their midst, Hanse turned the Death Commandos into their own worst enemies. In such close confines, a missed shot almost invariably hit a comrade, and in a few cases, enemy pilots actually squared off against one another. Lasers shot through the chaotic fray, vaporizing armor of friend and foe alike. Only Hanse, fighting alone, could strike without fear of damaging an ally.
Twisting and turning with an agility that only a master Mech Warrior could wring from his machine, Hanse repeatedly presented himself as a target, only to fade before an assault. Wielding the Marauder'sarm like a club, he laid about with it mercilessly. An overhand blow crumpled the right side of a Centurion,spinning it into the arms of a Crusader.Whirling, letting the blow's momentum carry him full circle, Hanse brought the arm up, catching a Cicadabeneath its chin and dropping it onto its back.
The BattleMaster'scanopy shattered as an SRM burst against it. Hanse felt the stinging fire of shrapnel as pieces of the polarized glass sliced into his left arm. A trickle of blood slicked the command couch's left arm. Hanse narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip on the left joystick control. There it is, Mr. Green. I bleed for the Federated Suns. Is it not my right to demand the same from my people?