BattleTech: The Prodigy
by Ulquiorra9000
Chapter 11: Inner Demons
Zeta facility, Goedwig
Lyran Alliance
February 2, 3073
"...and that's all for today's lesson," said Lane's war history tutor at long last. The middle-aged woman snapped shut her instructor copy of the textbook and smiled.
"I'll see you tomorrow, then," Lane grinned back as he stood up from his desk and stretched. "Thanks for the lesson." For the past week he'd been educated in all matters of war and discipline from the teachers here at Zeta facility, which made a nice break from Michael's brutal PT sessions outside.
"Actually," the tutor said, "Michael Lorin wishes to see you at the landing pad. He's got a plan in mind that will put our lessons on hold for quite some time."
Lane paused. "Like what?"
"I do not know. Report to the landing pad and Michael will brief you. You wouldn't want to keep him waiting."
Uncertainly knotted Lane's stomach as he put his textbook back on the shelf with the others. "Understood. I appreciate the heads-up."
*o*o*o*o*
On Zeta facility's ground floor, Lane strode through the lounge where he briefly considered getting a snack before meeting Michael. All this work definitely set his appetite into overdrive. Just as he reached out to press a button on the vending machine, Rose walked in. "Hi," she greeted.
Lane withdrew his hand from the machine and smiled. "Hi yourself. Just got done with a class?"
"Yeah. Greek," Rose said. "It's kind of hard to learn, though. I can barely do the basic lessons right now."
"Greek? That's way beyond me," Lane shrugged. "Anyway, I have to hurry. Michael wants to meet me at the landing pad for some reason."
A knowing expression crossed Rose's face and Lane didn't like it. "Oh. It's time for that."
Now Lane's sense of anxiety doubled. "What is that jerk planning now?"
"I can't tell you," Rose grinned, "but I can say that it'll put all your other lessons to shame."
"Wonderful."
"All I can say is, good luck. See you later! Much later." Rose slipped out of the room, leaving Lane bubbling with curiosity and concern. Just what was Micheal planning? Only one way to find out.
As soon as Lane walked out the facility's front doors and to the landing pad, he found Michael standing there next to an idling Soar VTOL. "There you are," the older man called out. "It's time for a very important lesson."
Lane stopped a few paces in front of Michael and saluted. "What's the mission?"
As an answer, Michael reached into the VTOL's passenger bay and handed Lane a bulky, camouflaged backpack. "This is your equipment. Your mission is to get back to Zeta facility in one piece."
Huh? Lane whirled around to stare at the four-story building as though expecting obstacles to suddenly appear between him and it. "Where's the challenge in that? It's right there."
"It won't seem so close once you hop on board," Michael said, motioning to the VTOL's waiting cargo bay. "Get in and we'll start the mission."
Lane hefted the backpack onto his back and climbed aboard, realizing just how heavy his pack was. What was in there?
Once Michael slid the VTOL's bay door shut and both he and Lane took a seat, the Soar lifted into the air with a roar of its rotors. Lane watched out the window as Zeta facility and the 'mech practice field quickly shrank away as the VTOL took flight. The vehicle dipped its nose slightly as it headed due west.
"Okay, Farlow," Michael said as he reclined in his seat. "This next assignment is the toughest we offer here at Zeta facility, but it's also the most educational on many levels. Your psych profile has been studied and this test has been deemed urgently necessary for you. It's the main reason you were sent here."
Lane checked out the window but found only pine forests and rivers. "Are we going to another facility first?"
"No." Michael shook his head. "Look, your performance with the Lionheart Braves has been solid and your instructors at the Strantor Military Academy noted your leadership potential. However, all that is muddied by something: your inner demons."
"Meaning?" Lane didn't like the sound of all this. What had he gotten himself into?
"It's been determined that you're held back by a morbid fear of death," Michael said bluntly. "The loss of your parents has shattered your sense of security and stability, and coupled with living in Ras Farlow's shadow, deep down you're afraid that you're next."
"That's none of your business!" Lane snapped. How could Michael talk about his family so casually? "My parents died pushing the Smoke Jaguars back where they came from in Operation Bulldog."
Michael's expression didn't change. "I am not doubting their merits as Mechwarriors or as parents. I'm talking about you. Right now, your subconscious is fighting that fear and sense of vulnerability by making you rash and headstrong. You act like you're indestructible, or like all your problems will go away if you're brave enough." His eyes flared. "That is not the case. These inner demons will continue to eat away at you until a raving mad berserker is all that's left. You fight like you're some prodigy but you're not. It's the job of us Lorins to stamp this reckless streak out."
Lane opened his mouth to hotly refute Michael's claim but he stopped. Was Michael right? Had Lane become a Mechwarrior just as a facade to hide the frightened child inside?
"I can't guarantee anything," Michael said slowly, "but this next exercise might do some good. Its goal is to teach you to value your own life and come to terms with the universe's dangers and problems. Once the test is complete, we'll see if you got anything out of this."
Sighing a shaky breath, Lane sat back in his seat and pursed his lips. "Fine. You're right. Can you at least tell me what's going to happen?"
A grin crossed Michael's face. "You're about to find out. We're starting our descent now. Just remember what your objective is."
"Reach Zeta facility," Lane recalled, then checked out the window. There was still nothing; just wilderness. The VTOL was touching down at the base of a pine-forested mountain with a huge lake nearby, along with some canyons and rocky bluffs. What was the meaning of this?
"Don't worry, this is the right LZ," Michael assured him as the VTOL touched down. "Deploy, Private."
Cautiously, Lane slid open the passenger bay door, unbuckled his seat straps and hopped down onto the pine forest's floor. The Soar's rotor winds rustled the trees and bushes all around it.
"The test starts now, Farlow!" Michael shouted over the VTOL's noise. "Good luck!" With that, he slid the bay door shut and the vehicle rose into the sky.
"Wait!" Lane called out, but it was too late. What would he say, anyway? This test is what Michael wanted, so there was no point in arguing.
When the VTOL was out of sight and the sound of its rotors faded away, Lane found himself standing in the middle of a forest clad in just a white tee, camo pants and boots with a heavy backpack for supplies. Now he saw the challenge in this exercise: survive a wilderness trek all the way back to Zeta facility. Lane tried to do some math in his head but it was no good. How fast was the VTOL flying, and for how long? How much ground could Lane cover in an hour or a day? Too many unknowns. He just knew one thing.
It was time to get going.
*o*o*o*o*
The forest trip was anything but silent: birds chirped, wild animals yowled and insects buzzed as Lane hiked across the forest floor. Shafts of gold sunlight poked through the forest canopy and the air was warm but not stifling. At least it wasn't raining.
As Lane kept going, though, his pack somehow seemed to get even heavier and by the time about an hour had passed, he sat on a mossy fallen log in a small clearing and set the pack down beside him. Time for a break and inventory check. He unzipped the pack's main compartment and started taking things out.
The first thing Lane found was a rolled-up sleeping bag complete with a pillow. He tossed it onto the soft, dry dirt and dug up more stuff. There was a thin but tough nylon rope about eight meters long, a box of matches, a stainless steel survival knife, a few packets of food, a canteen of water, and a basic first aid kit.
Then Lane checked the other, smaller compartment and pulled out a submachine gun.
"No way!" Lane gawked at the weapon in his hands. It was a recent model: the Sunhawk 7K, a weapon specifically commissioned by the Lorin family for infantry work. The weapon was so well-designed that Lyran infantry units soon requested thousands of copies, and now the Word of Blake infantry had to contend with this beauty during intense house-to-house firefights. Lane turned the weapon over in his hands, admiring the shiny black metal and the curved ammo magazine. Lane detached the magazine and found soft plastic dummy rounds inside, similar to the ones that Michael's pistol used. Non-lethal. Hmmmm.
Just as Lane snapped the magazine back into the weapon, he heard a rustling in the foliage. He froze in place, ears alert for any further sounds. For a few seconds there were just forest noises. Then he heard the methodical rustling again and determined that it was probably a person. Was someone else taking this test too? He could use a partner. "Hey! Is someone out there? Hello?"
There was no reply, but the rustling footsteps sped up and were definitely coming toward Lane. He checked his weapon again and considered the fact that it used dummy rounds. Not much good for hunting large wildlife, but definitely useful against a hostile person during a controlled combat setting.
Lane listened to the rustling a few more seconds before he made the connection. This visitor was unfriendly.
"Crap!" Lane scrambled to stuff all his items back into his backpack as the stranger kept coming closer. He had sloppily put the items back into the backpack but he managed to zip the pack closed anyway and heaved it onto his back. Then he carved a path toward a cluster of berry bushes, his Sunhawk trained for combat while his heart thudded in his chest. No doubt the stranger was a Lorin agent assigned to make things... challenging for the new guy.
Hidden in the bushes, Lane held his breath as the bushes across the small clearing rattled from the stranger's presence. A man in camo body armor stepped into the clearing, his face hidden by a helmet and a shaded visor. He too carried a Sunhawk 7K in his gloved hands and the weapon was poised for action as he swept the clearing. The man stepped perilously close to Lane's bushes but paid them no mind as he went on his patrol route.
Lane tightly gripped his weapon as he weighed his options. Should he ambush the agent and overwhelm him? Then again, Lane didn't know whether the man had backup in the area and during his training at the academy, Lane had never been a great shot with handguns. Plus his weapon wasn't muzzled, so the gunfire would definitely draw attention. I'll have to let this guy go, Lane decided. Violence will be a last resort for this exercise.
Finally, the man walked off into the wilderness due west, heading in the direction Lane had come from.
Wow, that was close, Lane thought as he slowly rose from his cover and slowly made his way east. His heart was still racing from the close encounter. I get the feeling that that won't be the last goon that Michael sends after me. As he stepped over a stream, his stomach gurgled. Plus I've got some other things to consider. He grinned in spite of himself.
*o*o*o*o*
Evening fell and very little changed during Lane's trek except the lighting level and his hunger. He resisted the urge to dig into his ration packs since he would obviously need to make them last, but he would need energy for the coming days. Rabbits, snakes and other wildlife populated the forest floor but Lane was unsure if he could catch one. The survival guides on TV made it look so easy, he thought.
On the upside, none of Michael's field agents presented themselves during the day so Lane had the forest to himself, or at least it seemed so. As he settled down under a towering pine tree and rolled out his sleeping bag, it occurred to him that maybe Michael's agents had just been stalking him and biding their time during the day.
It was risky to settle down for the night but Lane knew that he had no choice. He was weary from hiking all day and he hadn't eaten since lunch at Zeta facility, so he indulged in a few bites of his packaged food and a quick drink from his canteen. That will hold me over till morning. Then I try hunting, he decided. He had the gear to at least attempt to catch some rabbits, so he owed it to himself to try.
Crickets chirped and frogs croaked in unseen ponds as Lane rolled out his bedroll with with only moonlight to guide him. He considered making a fire but the light would give him away, and he had no raw wild game to cook anyway. Maybe that's part of the challenge? Lane wondered as he crawled into the thick sleeping bag. Give me more than I need and force me to determine what I really need and what would just slow me down. He tried to dwell further on the topic but fatigue quickly swept him off to sleep.
*o*o*o*o*
Something jolted Lane awake but he wasn't sure what it was. He snapped his eyes open and sat up, eyes scanning the dark forest. Judging by the moon's position, only a few hours had passed. Luckily, he was a light sleeper.
Then bullets tore through the foliage to Lane's right.
"Yow!" Lane sprang from his bedroll, all fatigue forgotten as he scrambled to his feet and fumbled around for his backpack. Loud rustling gave away the man's position just before he fired another burst into the air.
Lane's right hand brushed against his pack so he felt around for the zipper, opened the pack's smaller compartment, and drew his own weapon. He took a few steps to the right and released a short bust to answer the aggressor's own fire. The Sunhawk rattled and kicked back in Lane's hands and as a result, the weapon quickly jerked upward and the rounds went way high. Still, Lane heard the man rustle into cover in the bushes and no return fire came.
Knowing that the battle wasn't over yet, Lane widened his eyes and fought to adjust to the darkness as he slowly carved a path around the general area. He could finally make out tree trunks and bushes, but the armored agent didn't come into view. Most likely, the two of them were chasing each other in circles. We're just waiting for the other to slip up.
Lane paused for just a second. Slip up? That might be the answer to this problem! He realized as a solution popped into his head. The agent had a weapon and infantry training, but Lane had darkness and a backpack full of supplies on his side. He crouched and crept toward his pack, then unzipped the bigger compartment and withdrew his rope. Then he tied the rope around the base of a tree and stretched it out like a trip wire. Lane hid behind another tree and tied it around that tree's trunk as well.
With his heart racing in anxiety, Lane hid behind the second tree's trunk and held his Sunhawk tightly in both hands, praying that this plan would work. He counted off the seconds and resolved to move every ten seconds in order to keep mobile. After ten tensely-counted seconds, he switched to another tree and began another countdown.
Then the agent shouted in alarm and crashed to the forest floor.
In a burst of motion Lane leaped out of cover and approached the downed man with his weapon raised. "Don't move!"
The fallen man's own Sunhawk submachine gun had flown out of his hands when he tripped and he scrambled for his weapon. Before he could retrieve it, Lane was on the scene with his own Sunhawk leveled at him. Raising his hands in surrender, the man allowed Lane to scoop up his Sunhawk and toss it aside. "Stand against that tree, wrists together," Lane instructed. The agent complied, allowing Lane to cut off a bit of rope with his knife and tie his hands together. Then Lane cut off more rope and bound the agent to the tree.
Lane had no doubt that the man was taking it easy due to Lane's lack of serious infantry training. Just enough to make me sweat, he thought as he checked his supplies: about two meters of rope left and a new weapon, plus his other supplies. "I guess someone will get you in the morning, huh?" he asked the Lorin agent.
The man nodded. "Right. Good work, Private."
"Yeah." Lane rolled up his bedspread, packed up his possessions and hefted his pack onto his back. He set off into the woods once again, his submachine gun in hand in case another Lorin agent arrived.
I did it! Agent down, Lane thought giddily as he hiked by moonlight. After a few minutes he sobered and had another thought. That had been just one agent. What if two more attacked him at the same time tomorrow, or if they had superior weapons or equipment? There was no way to be sure. Lane kept these dire thoughts in mind until he set up a new campsite and slept in peace.