![]() ![]() “ Dammit all! Those Hussars be moving up three streets over. She was a good pilot, no doubt about it, but she was an excellent commander, largely due to maximizing the use of the tools at her disposal. Others often scoffed at her ride, underarmed and underarmored compared to other ninety-ton ’Mechs, but her Tacticon B-2000 Battle Computer gave her unparalleled battlefield information. Then, with her Cyclops, Sleipnir-she was such a sucker for Norse mythology-planted in the middle of the bridge as sure as any foundation, she listened to overlapping comm channels and watched avidly as the skein of red and green arrows moved within the tight confines of Gomand.įingers played the BattleMech’s cockpit console as a maestro, drawing out details. The enemy ’Mech already forgotten, Major Ariana Winston breathed the acrid stench of her own sweat from long hours in the cockpit and snuck a quick sip of stale, lukewarm water from the straw stuffed under the edge of her tight-fitting neurohelmet. The cable sheared clean through the Wasp’s already weakened right leg with almost surgical precision, and the shredded leg parts avalanched down onto the uncaring bridge as well. Meanwhile the legs clipped one of the five-centimeter steel suspender cables of the magnificent Trandim Bridge, which stretched northeast across the Alba River and into the city of Gomand. The upper body hammered into the asphalt bridge, gouging troughs as it skidded for several meters before coming to a stop against an abandoned car. Benjamin Military District, Draconis CombineĪs the Cyclops’s Zeus-36 Mark III autocannon savaged the BattleMech, the twenty-ton Wasp in Fourth Proserpina Hussars colors separated in two along its waist with a flash of concealed secondary explosions and a puff of shattered internal structure. ![]()
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