DC Heroes: MechWarrior I
By: Christopher W. Blaine
e-mail: darth_yoshi@yahoo.com
DISCLAIMER: All characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by either DC Comics Inc. or WhizKids and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. No profit is made from this story. This original story is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced either in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.
Chapter 11 Romanus (Thanagarian Sector) Solaris Gotham Commonwealth January 24, 3032Monel looked at the assembled MechWarriors and licked his dry lips. Ever since his confrontation with Ra's Al Ghul the day before, his people had taken great pains to not get in his way. He was appreciative of the gesture, but now was not the time for politeness. They had heard the name of Clan Wolverine and some of the younger members wanted to know what it was about.
Clan Wolverine had committed the ultimate sin of arrogance before the ilKhan, and for that they had been exterminated. Hunted down by the other 19 of the 20 Clans originally formed, they were eradicated from Clan Space and from reality itself. Or so it had been believed and Monel, despite his revulsion, could not help but admire the tenacity of the Clan. Like their totem animal, they were scrappers who had found a way to survive.
What Ra's position within the Clan was, Monel could not even fathom. The fact that he was involved with the gaming world and probably many other immoral things made him believe that the man was a cast-away. The man was a confessed freebirth who carried a surname that was not one of the original 800 bloodnames.
Monel explained all of this and more to his warriors, fully one quarter of the full complement of 'mech pilots in the Legion. The rest were where Monel should be going now, he thought, where they had been contracted to work. Coming here had been foolish and accepting the challenge had been even more so. There was no need to honor it; members of Clan Wolverine were not considered true warriors and if Ra's was removed from them, he was even worth wasting the time on.
Yet, by the looks in the eyes of his warriors, Monel knew that this challenge could not go unheeded. His people were all washouts, young men and women who had failed out of warrior training right at the end. No matter what they did here in the Inner Sphere, once they returned home, they would be relegated to another caste where they would grow old and die.
There was very little true glory to gain by being part of the Legion, but it allowed each and every one of them the chance to at least pilot a 'mech and perhaps give their lives in the service of their Clan. If they could, however, take down a rogue escapee from the Not-Named-Clan, then there was no doubt that their names would be written into the Remembrance, an epic poem kept by each Clan that detailed the exploits of its greatest warriors. That was the greatest honor they could ever hope for.
Val, especially, wanted to be included. He had been the one who called for their 'mechs to be delivered immediately to the planet from the Legion WarShip in high orbit. The Legion was the only known mercenary group to possess such a vessel. It had been named by Monel in jest as the Clubhouse. "Our 'mechs will be here in two days and it will take another day to clear them through security," Val announced proudly.
Monel nodded and reached for his glass of water. Many of the warriors were begging him with their eyes to be included in the challenge. Little did they know it was for naught because he and Val had already decided who would fight.
"Captain Irma, Captain Garth and Commander Jenni will be going with Val and I to win this Trial. Do not consider it a stain on your abilities or my faith in you. I decided to go by rank," Monel said to the disappointed members.
Warrior Jo stood up, his muscles bulging under his jumpsuit. "I invoke a Trial of Refusal concerning your decision. I am as worthy as any other and demand the chance to prove it!"
Several others cheered in as well, demanding their own Trials. Monel silenced them with a cold stare. "Neg. There will be no Trials. We do not have the time for this. We have to be ready in six days and I have transfer all of the information regarding our side to the dog before we begin!"
"He has no honor!" Jo said, smacking a fist on the table. "Let us just go in and kill him! I will volunteer! Give me a knife, that is all I desire!"
"And what if you are caught, Jo of Clan Coyote? You are well-known as a member of the Legion and no doubt the stain of your assassination attempt would taint the Legion as a whole," Irma said softly. Her deep blue eyes and flowing blonde hair made her almost intoxicating to look at. As a member of Clan Nova Cat, she was given to interpreting dreams and omens and her voice always carried like a cool night breeze when she spoke. "Regardless of our personal feelings, we must abide by the laws of the Clans. We are not freebirth rabble like the Dragoons; we are the inheritors of Kent's dream and Kerensky's vision."
"My sibkin speaks true," Garth added, mindlessly drumming the fingers of his artificial arm on the table. It was a reminder of his failed Trial of Position when he was only a cadet. "We cannot and must not begin to bicker among ourselves."
Jo was not satisfied and he crossed his arms over his heaving chest. "Very easy for you to say, Garth; you have been chosen to engage the enemy."
"Enough!" Monel said in his most stern voice. "I have had it with your whining…all of you. Even when given a second chance by the Clans to prove your worth, you still mew like the sibko kittens you were when you failed your respective Trials. I am the only true warrior among all of us; your opinions do not matter in this. You will do as I say or you will go back to the homeworlds to serve out your miserable lives in another caste."
Monel did not even await either confirmation or apology. He had far too much on his mind to worry about hurt feelings and snotty-noses. He had to prepare for a battle that could mean either victory or defeat for the Clans when they came. Monel could see the writing on the walls, just as Jaime Wolf did. They had spent twenty-five years in the Inner Sphere, reporting on everything they could. The Clans had not called them back yet only because no single Clan was strong enough to call for and win a vote for the invasion.
Jonathan Kent and Alexandr Kerensky had left the Inner Sphere to allow it to fall in barbarism. It was the dream, and had been for three centuries, of every warrior of all of the surviving Clans to one day come back and proclaim proudly that their forefathers had been correct. Every khan desired to stand on Terra and demonstrate the superiority of their martial society to the savages that ran amuck in the Inner Sphere.
It simply wasn't that way, though, and Monel knew it. Both the Legion and the Dragoons had come to the Inner Sphere expecting the Great Houses to be in shambles. After all, there had been three nearly consecutive Succession Wars which should blasted humanity back into the Stone Age. It very nearly had, but somewhere, the spark which made humans…human had kept the torch of civilization lit.
The Dragoons found the Inner Sphere to be a place of wonderment, where the circumstances of your birth had nothing to do with, for the most part, how far you could go with your dreams. Monel saw this as wasteful and while he had no desire to crush the people of the Inner Sphere, their wasteful ways embarrassed him. Could his genetic line really have descended from some of the people he had encountered?
He strongly suspected that when the time came and the call was put out for both groups to return to the Clan worlds that Wolf's Dragoons would not answer. They were freebirths after all and this was someplace where their lives had meaning. He understood it, but at the same time, could not reason why anyone looked forward to growing old and ending up in some home, drooling and defecating all over themselves.
Now he had another problem, an old thorn in the backside of the Clans' honor. If he lost this challenge he had so hastily accepted, then what? He had no idea who Ra's Al Ghul was, only that he had to kill him. No quarter, no mercy; the particulars of the Trial of Annihilation against the Wolverines were still very much active. It was his duty as a Clan warrior to dispose of him and any who would ally with him. It superceded even the cause of the invasion but that did little to quench the thirst for blood he felt.
No doubt some of the participants on Ra's Al Ghul's side would be innocent pawns, unaware of the galaxy-shaking events they would be involved in. In that, he was saddened because nothing was more dishonorable than leading warriors into a battle for a false cause. Innocent blood would be spilled and there was noting to gain from that.
He stepped into his private cabin and moved immediately to the terminal. He considered calling Jaime Wolf and letting him know. If Monel failed…if his 'mech fell, he could be taken as Ra's bondsman. It wouldn't have been the first time he thought with a smile. His fingers hovered over the keyboard but would not go any further. If he violated his oath then he was giving credence to Ra's argument and to a further extent, that of his Clan. The Wolverines had accused Nicholas Kerensky of superceding the Clan's will for his own. If Monel sent a message to Jaime Wolf, would he not be doing the same thing?
He cursed and prayed silently to whatever god it was that watched over the affairs of humanity to deliver him from this challenge. He needed to take a step back and think about what he was going to do. He had vital information for his Clan…for all of the Clans and his anger had gotten in the way.
It was so uncharacteristic of the Kent bloodline, but Monel figured that he must have inherited it from his Kerensky half. He sat down in the chair next to the table and rubbed his temple. He needed a miracle.
At that very same moment in the GreenStar HPG compound, a message was delivered for Corpsman John Stewart. It appeared to be nothing more than the sort of message the adept manning the HPG station was used to seeing. For a man supposedly devoted to the Word of Scott he certainly had a lot of admirers.
The adept shrugged it off. Corpsman Stewart was at least devoted to his duties as a MechWarrior in the service of GreenStar; not like the mercenary types that made up the Darkstar regiments that GreenStar employed. The adept read the message out loud to himself as he walked it over to the small box that was reserved for the members of Corps.
"My dearest John, please get your friend and meet me for a quick getaway; love, Alice P." The adept sighed and dropped the message in the box. He noted that the point of origin was New Gotham with a Class A priority. Looking closer, he also noted that Guardian Ganthet had approved the transmission.
He scratched his head, wondering who this woman was that rated the attention of someone of Ganthet's level. The small, unassuming Gaurdian was known to be a contender to be the next Primus of the order. Not only well-connected as far as his position within GreenStar, but he was also politically influential. His posting within the Gotham Commonwealth was no accident; it was his kind of cool level-head attitude that had kept the problems between former Archon Thomas Wayne and GreenStar at a low simmer.
Even though there had been no considerable changes since Thomas's death, the fact that there was open communication and that GreenStar was able to station its own forces (albeit only regular Green Lantern Corps, none of the mercenaries) within the Commonwealth only demonstrated Ganthet's political savvy.
This Alice woman must be someone important and the adept wondered if he had just stumbled upon some lurid scandal. His pulse quickened as he realized what a burden such knowledge would be and he put the thoughts out of his head quickly. He would concentrate on his duties and keep his mouth shut. He wanted no part of such things!
Dropping the message as if it were poisoned, the adept hurried back to the generator.
"You have more than proven yourself worthy of your boasts," Talia said from across the darkened room. Bruce swallowed hard and pulled his trademark sunglasses off his face slowly. He had just finished up a match with a member of Lew Moxon's newest stable with a resounding victory…again.
The crowds had begun chanting his name even as his Batman had marched into the arena. Despite the fact that he hadn't been able to repair his 'mech completely, Ra's had insisted that he fight the match. Bruce already knew about the big fight between the Legion and the Lazarus Pit and he would have thought Ra's would want to keep the Batman in better shape. The stable owner had commented that it was better that Bruce keep his warrior's edge and let other people worry about the equipment.
The match had been proceeded by the usual banter between Bruce and Talia, but the discussion afterwards had been much different. Talia had been direct, informing Bruce that she had begun to develop feelings for him. For a moment, he had been reminded of Selina and he had realized that it had been many months since he had thought of her.
Talia approached him and he could catch the scent of her perfume in the air. "My people are not ones to mix words, we believe that hesitation is a sign of weakness."
"Well, we wouldn't want you to be weak," Bruce replied as she placed her hands on his chest. He was still clad in the shorts and cooling vest uniform of a MechWarrior. Her hands went under the vest and started playing with hairs he had grown over the past few months.
"I assure you, Beloved," she said in a lusty voice, "that you will find me far from being weak."
That was the second time she had referred to him as "beloved" and he wondered what significance the term had among her people as she referred to them. Her father was of obvious Arabian ancestry and it showed in her olive complexion and dark hair. He wanted to ask her, but he was afraid of ruining the mood.
In fact, had she not invited him to her private apartment, he was planning on heading to Warrior's to have a drink with Joe Chill. Ra's had tapped the former champion for the special match with the Legion and it was a perfect excuse for Bruce to try and get more information. He was convinced that the older MechWarrior knew who would have killed his parents, but he was afraid that too many questions at one time would reveal his true identity.
He had already ran down two names that Chill had dropped, though one of them hadn't been piloting assault 'mechs at the time. The first was dead already, but Bruce had been able to discover that he had been in prison in the Metropolitan Suns when his father and mother had been murdered. The second one had been a female pilot who had been six months pregnant. He doubted that she would have put herself and her unborn child at such risk.
She took his hand and began to lead him towards not the bed, but the balcony instead. "Come with me and let us breathe in the night air to cool our flaming passions." He listened to her speak and he found it enchanting. She was more likened to a princess than the daughter of a businessman. "The night shall be for the fulfilling of the heart's promise, but the dusk calls for contemplation."
The stepped out onto the balcony where they had a view of the entire Thangarian Sector. Bruce was surprised by how simple, yet elegant the architecture was. It reminded him of pictures of ancient Terra, back before even the rise of Christianity. Even the colors made him feel as if he were looking at a vast desert. No wonder she and her father chose to live here.
It was beautiful, yet he longed for the green open fields of New Gotham. He had been gone for so long now and was only beginning to make any headway into his mission. Would he find his answers? He worried about returning to Justice City empty-handed, especially after the way he had carried on. "The night falls on us," Bruce said as he took her hand, "but it you who envelops me in their embrace."
She laughed. "Again you speak with the tongue of an aristocrat and again you betray the disguise you wear." He said nothing but she could read the confusion in his eyes. "Oh, no, my beloved, your real name remains a mystery if not your motives. We have heard of your questions, your…investigations. You are true detective as my father says." She smiled and stepped over to give him a warm kiss.
She pulled away slowly. "My father believes you seek your fortune, that you hope to make a man of yourself away from the shelter of money. You seek to emulate the greatest of the warriors of Solaris, past and present."
Bruce still kept his tongue silent and she took it as a cue to continue. "My father is a complex man who believes that all men are as complex as he. Men are normally very straightforward. You seek something, that is true, but it is not a name. I see the way you react to the crowds, it pleases you but does nothing more. You already have your pride."
"Pride makes me do stupid things," Bruce finally said. "I do seek something, but it is something very personal."
"Only two things cause a man to speak such words," Talia responded as she allowed herself to be wrapped in his arms. "Revenge and love." She looked up into his eyes and he refused to hide the emotions raging in them. "I can not tell which, but I suspect the former as opposed to the latter."
He did not speak for many moments. "I'm not sure which it is anymore. Both make me cry late at night; both drive me each day. Either can be used to fan the flames in my soul."
They held each other without another word until, with the stars shining brightly in the night sky, they entered the bedchamber proper.
Ra's turned off the monitor and allowed his daughter some privacy; he had no wish to indulge in voyeuristic obscenities. She was entitled to her time with the man who had managed to steal some of her attention away from him. Silently, Ra's saluted Matches Malone, for only a truly incredible man of character could ensnare his daughter's heart so easily.
What it was about the man that stirred desire in his daughter, he could not guess. Ra's was jealous that he had not loved Talia's mother with the same passion, but she had only been a tool for his lust. He considered the words they had spoken and it presented an almost irresistible mystery to him. He wanted so much to discover who Matches Malone really was, but not so he could use it against him, but just simply for the knowledge.
It would give him power over the man even if the man did not realize it. Matches Malone was a warrior seen very rarely in the Inner Sphere, the product of great genes. He had first suspected that Malone was Clan, but his undisciplined nature dismissed that easily enough. Raw talent was not enough to make a Clan warrior.
Whoever he was, it would wait until after the Trial with the Legion. He had already gotten Joe Chill, a man highly recommended by Lew Moxon. Ra's suspected that the former champion may very well have been the assassin sent to kill Thomas and Martha Wayne a decade before. Ra's did not know because he really did not care. Wayne and his whore were dead and eventually the truth about the death of Bruce Wayne would come out.
Melissa Steiner, ignorant of Ra's manipulations, would push the people to declare House Steiner the ruling house of the Commonwealth. No doubt Alfred Pennyworth would put together a mercenary army to try and take the throne back; men did not give up such power without a good reason! By defeating the Legion, Ra's was assured at least one of the better units was out of action. If the ploy worked, maybe he would challenge the Dragoon's as well.
The thought brought a bitter smile to his lips.