BattleTech: Shrapnel, Issue #4 (BattleTech Magazine) by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Catalyst Game Labs
Published: 2021-03-14T05:00:00+00:00

The sun was already setting as the two headed to the felled giant. Large hunks of armor were torn away, and sharp protrusions jutted out all over, but otherwise it had made the jump from the stars in surprisingly good condition—that is, until it fought the other one. Konily eyed his captain, watching him move about the head of the machine with some familiarity. It made him uncomfortable, but oddly envious. Some other facet of this man he’d known most of his life was now just barely visible to him.

“Don’t reach into any of those tubes coming off it, and stay well clear of the limbs, just in case,” Urgun said, scaling the dune to the back of the head. “Here,” he said, gesturing to the side of the cranium. “Every cockpit has a hatch.”

“This is a vehicle?!” Konily gasped.

Travelers far off in the steppes beyond the mountains, and still farther away in the old cursed kingdom, used vehicles. Groundcars, gyrocycles, hovertrucks—all ancient technology that was harder and harder to come by. The tribe had seen them on occasion, but they had none.

“No, no, it’s much worse,” Urgun said. “Good, this hatch looks bent but not jammed. C’mere and help.”

Almost immediately, Konily was beside his captain.

As Urgun gave the count the three, they heaved back, and the door hinge shrieked and gave, tossing them back against the sand as it swung open. The captain pulled out a flashlight, a tool for strict emergencies only due to the shortage of batteries, and prepared to shine it into the cockpit. Konily was already at the hatch.

“Wait, it might be bad in there,” Urgun cautioned him, knowing that a pilot after combat could be a horrific sight, but Konily gave no start.

Through the one-way cockpit glass, the sun lit up the inside, bathing it in speckled light that glinted off the cracked displays, broken metal, and helmet visor. The pilot lay with her head back, arms limp on the sides of the control chair, with drying blood all over the lower half of her face and bulky vest of tubes. Her hair was tucked into her helmet but did not seem long. Her face suggested an age of maybe seven years, but it was hard to tell with the visor down.

Reaching slowly into the cockpit, pulse racing, Konily held his finger out under her nose and waited. He whipped his head around to his captain, eyes wide.

“She’s alive!”

“Unbelievable,” the old guard replied, climbing to look in the cockpit. “Well, we can’t move her. Her neck could be broken.”

“Out…” came a deathly croak from within, and the two men jumped.

Konily peeked back in, recomposing himself. “Are you—are you okay? Can you move?”

The pilot lazily rolled her head to the right and weakly gestured with an arm. “Get…me out…”

It was well after dark before the two of them managed to carry her down to the rapidly cooling sand, where she lost consciousness again. Soon after, they agreed there was nothing to be done, at least until morning.

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