Battletech #11 - Blood Legacy by Michael A. Stackpole

Author:Michael A. Stackpole [Stackpole, Michael A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Fiction, General, Science fiction; American
ISBN: 9780451453846
Publisher: New York, N.Y. : Penguin Group, 1995, c1990.
Published: 1995-12-07T06:00:00+00:00

That's a point Vlad won't overlook.

Using his 'Mech's right arm, he pushed off against the ground. The Lone Wolf started to move toward the right, but caught only after a shift of a few degrees. Phelen pushed harder, but heard armor panels buckling, so he stopped. As he relieved the pressure on his right arm, the Lone Wolf sank back to its original position.

Despair clutched at his heart. I'm wedged in tight. I've got no weapons. There's nothing I can do. I'm going to die!

From somewhere deep inside, he heard a voice that could only be his own. If you're going to die, Phelan Kell, you'll die a man.

He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. Working his left arm around to ease its numbness, he waited.

Thud, scrape, thud, scrape. His pulse matched itself to the thunderous cadence of Vlad's approach. A thousand different plans for escape flashed through Phelan's mind and were rejected. He knew he couldn't run because Vlad would gladly hunt him down and kill him whether he were in a 'Mech or not. Calling out to Natasha would do no good. As nearly as he could tell, his radio was out, and during the test, it would be jammed anyway.

Vlad did not keep him waiting long. The Executioner pulled itself up onto the ridge and stared down at the Lone Wolf. From shoulder to foot, the entire right side of the 'Mech's body had been stripped of armor. Impact craters and laser burns dotted the rest of the 'Mech's hide like disease sores. Smoke drifted from the ruined half of its chest and hung over the body like a wispy cloak.

Vlad's laughter echoed from the Executioner's external speakers. "So this is how it ends? I would have expected more of a fight from a warrior as great as you."

Phelan flicked open his helmet's face plate. "If you were any sort of opponent, I might have really put my best effort into it."

"A mistake, Phelan. I regret that I cannot offer you the luxury of learning from it. I would have let you live to wallow in your dismal failure, but I have not been given that choice." The Executioner's left arm swung its Gauss rifle muzzle in line with Phelan's cockpit. "You embarrassed Conal in the Grand Council and he has demanded your death."

Phelan snorted contemptuously. "If you had the balls God gave a sand flea, you'd come down here and slit my throat."

"Fortunately, Phelan, I have the brains God gave a man and I remember you wear a gun in the cockpit. Nice try."

"A warrior's got to try."

"A fitting epitaph. Too bad's it's too long to inscribe on the thimble they'll use for your remains. Farewell, Phelan."

Phelan swept his 'Mech's right aim up and dropped the boxy weapon pod down to cover his open cockpit. At the same time, he stabbed both command couch foot pedals to the floor.

The Lone Wolf's right arm slammed back into the cockpit like a hammer. The canopy skeleton shattered and raked jagged pieces of metal through the cockpit.

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