Well, over the past few days, I'd gotten to watch the Vanguards rebuilt the Comstar fortress and reprogram everything, basically making it one of their own. I'd often asked the officers what the establishment was for, and they'd usually say, 'shut up, POW!'

Janis Osiers had taken a bit of interest in me, and said that I was a good candidate for piloting a battlemech. Of course, this should thrill the hell out of me. It did, but I recalled seeing the battlemechs get shot at the most, and wondered how good I would be at dodging and aiming and whatnot. After the stigma wore off, I decided to let her test me.

She appointed me to this little glossy officer of hers named Marcie something, which ran the training simulator, and tested new recruits on their piloting skills. I'd seen the simulators through the windows in between POW break periods, and all the while, knew that all of us POW's would be shelled out for some sort of job. I'd wanted to use the simulators for quite some time, I'd long been a fan of any form of entertainment with flashing lights before my first training with Comstar. That's video games and TV, mainly.

"So, you fancy yourself a veteran, then?"

"Yes," I said. She winced her little made up face, then scrunched her nose. I probably forgot to apply Cologne properly.

"Can you give me an exact gist of all of your 'experience'?"

"I was trained at Comstar a few years back, then I was drafted by Capellan pirates for some quick money for my family. After my father died, and my mother was hospitalized, Comstar drafted me again to prepare for the Fedcom Civil War, and I underwent the training a second time. I was the most experienced in my platoon."

No real response, only the doe-eyed stare.

"That's veteran enough, right?"

"So, Janis said to let you into the simulator? You'll have to wait until the others are done."

"Okay. I'll go get a cup of coffee."

On that nondescript note, I did just that, then returned to see a large group of people who looked surprisingly tired for having just done something that was mainly surmised of sitting on your ass. They were looking at this big green screen that probably had scores or something on it. Marcie had out a large list of names, and was calling people back for another round.

"Oh, you're here again," she said to me. "Okay, Derek may have to explain some things to you. Derek!"

A small, nerdish man turned his head toward her.

"What do you want?" he replied. He had the voice of a prepubescent girl.

"Um, he, Franklin I mean, needs to know how to work the stuff. In the simulator, that is. And the rules, also. Explain the rules to him."

Derek beckoned me into the large room, where stood three rows of wall-to- wall booths. He opened up the first one, my having been the first in there, and I slipped inside. Derek showed me the basic controls-two joysticks, a bunch of little emergency buttons and some dials. Heat, Myomer pressure, fusion power output, etc. Then there was this little helmet that strapped over my face. And instantaneously, a whole new sense seemed to light up around me-it nearly gave me a seizure.

"Hehe," said Derek as he saw my head snap back. "Don't worry, you'll just get used to it. Simple movement commands and weapon changes are much quicker with the neurohelmet. It's sort of hard to explain. We'll just say that your hands will know where to hit in different situations."

"Wait, can you explain some of it? This is confusing."

Well, the little man obviously had little patience. He gave me a frank, reluctant overview of what did what, even though I had the feeling that I already knew. It was basically movement, torso twist, aiming and switching weapons. The battlemechs actuators and neurohelmet would do the rest.

"Okay, you're ready, then?"

"Um, I think I got it. Who do I shoot and who don't I?"

"Well, this round, we're on teams, so you're supposed to shoot whatever doesn't appear your color on your IFF. Your mechs aren't painted according to teams, as such would likely be in a real battle. Tanks are also identified by IFF. You're red, so help don't shoot reds. Simple?"

"Yes."

Derek slammed shut the simulator, and seconds later, I heard his voice over my radio frequency.

"Okay, people," he said in that girlish voice. "This simulator mission is a battle to the last team, kill, nothing else. There are two heavy mechs and three mediums on teams red and blue. Teams yellow and green have three mediums and five lights. And all of you have three tanks and three hovercrafts. No battle armor this time."

My view screen flashed to life. All of a sudden, I was in a well-simulated tropical jungle. My IFF showed a rotating image of my mech, all body parts green, which had apparently meant that it was in perfect health. Above it was the word 'Champion'. The mech itself looked rather ugly, like a broad- bodied airplane with thick wings. It had six holes on one side of its chest, and a large gun on the other. Smaller holes lined the direct front. My weapons list scrolled down in the upper right hand corner.

LB-10X AC SRM6 MLAS MLAS SLAS SLAS

I hadn't been briefed on what those meant, but I had a feeling the one at the top would be the most effective. I fired it. A gunshot sounded, and a spray of bullets or something flew out. I fired the second one. A swarm of missiles fired, then crashed a few hundred yards off. The others were laser beams, the first two slightly more powerful than the last.

I moved foreword. The walking was a bit jerky when the Champion accelerated, but then smoothed out almost perfectly. On my radar, a flurry of red dots indicated allies to the west and east. Another flurry of blue dots lay out front. I moved to their locations. I stepped over some trees, then saw enemies approaching.

There were two large shapes, and some slow-moving hulks ahead. One of them had sharp claws and moved very fast. My IFF picked it up and identified it as a Specter. I turned my legs to the side, but kept my torso facing it. A blue ball of some sort flew out of its right arm, and missed to my side by what must have been a few meters. I brought my targeting reticule up, and fired the first weapon leading off just a little bit. The spray of bullets flew out, and I couldn't see if they made contact or not, so I fired the missiles. The Specter swerved to the side, and fired two red beams from its left arm. They hit somewhere below my cockpit. The little image of my Champion turned yellow around the lower-right torso.

"Newbie, huh?" I heard over my radio frequency.

I didn't respond, but rather steadied my Champion's legs to my torso again, then fired the shotgun toward its head. I was pretty sure it would do more damage there. Sparks and small explosions appeared around its arm, where the bullets must have connected. His arm appeared orange on my IFF. I waited for him to charge at me again, then fired off all my lasers. They stabbed into the Specter's midsection.

The blue blast shot out again. It hit right below the cockpit. The simulator shook, and blue energy resounded within the cockpit. What the hell was that? I decided to start moving again. I flanked him as he came at me, then turned my torso and fired the missiles. They missed. I fired the LB-10X. The bullets missed. Then, a small shower of rockets flew from my right side and hit the Specter all over, causing a rippling sea of fire and smoke. On my IFF, his body and arms glowed red and orange, along with his right leg. Everything else was still green.

"There you, go, good luck with 'em," I heard in a different voice. Ah, well. I was a newbie. I needed some support.

I swiveled around and moved toward him, firing all of my lasers again. They hit his arm, and it fell right off! My little red heat gauge began to climb, and waves of warmth blew into the cockpit to simulate the effect.

"You're gonna die," said the Specter pilot. He ran straight at me, then reached out with his fists. We collided, and for some reason, my mech fell over, and his didn't. What unfair hash was this? I may have keyed in a complaint to him if it wouldn't have distracted my piloting.

He stood over me, and aimed his arms (presumably laden with the weapons) right at my cockpit. I fired my LB-10X and missiles, and of course, all of them hit him right in the torso section. Boo-yeah! The IFF showed his body glow red, then turn black. From cockpit view, his mech appeared to be flashing blue, then falling over onto mine and exploding. The simulator jerked, then went black. The words 'you're out' appeared on my screen.

"Damnit," I said as I took off the neurohelmet. That was foul play. He ran right into me! Just a cheap way of assuring a kill without having to use skill. He would never do that in a real Goddamn fight.

I opened up the simulator, then walked joined the other people who'd lost already. Three men and women were squabbling over their loss. A girl sat, huddled up in the corner, a willful look on her face. Two guys sat shoulder to shoulder. One of them looked around, then over his and at him.

"Did you get rammed by Scott?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I took him down, though."

"He got me. He finished me off right as I was damaged. I had a Victor, and one of my arms was gone. He just crashed into me."

"Dude, he's doing pretty bad," said the girl. "I think I'm doing a little better, I just need to flank better. Scott's doing pretty badly, though. He gets a suicide count for almost every kill, which basically cancels it out."

"Be glad you got him," said the guy. "You a newbie?"

I signed. "Yes."

"At least you got a kill on your first round. Only the best people actually get battlemechs in the end. There are so few of them during this war."

Over the nest few minutes, the last few people began to trickle out, and eventually, two more, infuriated with each other, stomped out of the room. One was a woman with black hair, eyes and clothes. She looked like a total, natural Goth. The other was a man with a plaid button-up shirt, brown and green, with blue jeans and leather boots. In other words, completely out of place. I tried not to stare.

"You're a cheap, pathetic loser," said the woman.

"Look, if they put it on the mech, then it works in real life, and it's a good tactic."

"You always go for that cheap kill. It's idiotic. You should be disqualified."

"Oh, blow it out, you little cunt."

I waited until they were on opposite sides of the room, then I asked, "who are those two? Was that Scott?"

"No," said the girl. "Scott lost a while ago. Those are Jinni Grenache and Frank Rice."

"Huh, that's weird. I'm Franklin Rouse."

"They're the best two in the simulator. Frank likes to use the 'death from above' maneuver. It's where you use jump jets, then land on the enemy's head and crush it. It rarely works, but he's really good at it."

"Jinni's a real cheapo," said the guy. "She just stays back and snipes. But she's really good at one on one combat, which it normally comes down to after she and someone else are the sole survivors."

After the fighting between everyone died down, a woman held out the scorecards. I placed ninth out of sixteen, just besting the average of one kill. The girl, named Sandy, was twelfth. Both boys placed fourteenth and fifteenth, respectively. Scott placed fifth. Frank Rice placed first, and Jinni, second. The top three averages were displayed, and both were amazingly close, Jinni's a little higher.

The next round was an eight-team battle, two players to a team. I decided to go with Sandy, just to pull her average up, but I didn't dare tell her that. Each pair got a heavy mech and a medium mech, or an assault and a light. I was grateful to be of the former pair, since we would both be evenly matched in terms of speed.

My mech for this round was called a Cataphract, though it didn't have a shadow of resemblance to the ancient warriors, and Sandy was given a Bushwhacker. Mine had a rounded cockpit and two arms, one a fist, the other a pair of guns. Hers was an ugly little squat with guns on the front, arms and shoulder.

I lurched off to the right, seeking cover in the jungle, and she followed. I slammed into what looked like a wall of trees, and the mech slowed down, the simulator shaking gently as each well-rendered palm brushed across my cockpit. After five minutes of what seemed like getting nowhere, I came out into an oasis, where two mechs were sitting, back to back, both of their sides facing toward me.

Similarly to my other mech, the Champion, this one had an LB10XAC, and with it, a UAC5. Not knowing quite what either was, I aimed carefully and fired both of them at the one on the right, which my computer identified as a Shootist. Both of my guns spewed bullets of different kinds, and they all collided with the right side of the Shootist. The arm fell off, and both mechs came to life on us.

Sandy was soon at my side. She blasted away with her right arm gun, then began spewing away with machine guns and a powerful laser on the front of the Bushwhacker. I joined her with my other weapons, the ever-useful 'medium lasers'. The shots spread mid-level around their torsos, doing no serious damage, but keeping their aim off.

Or not. The Shootist fired a large gun in its left torso. The impact was terrifying. The Cataphract was nearly knocked off its feet. While I stabilized, Sandy managed to start flanking the other mech, an Enforcer, and shooting at it while moving to dodge its return fire.

I moved my Cataphract to the side. The Shootist fired again, blowing my left arm off. I returned by firing my two main guns at it, hitting it all over the left side and midsection. He began to run at me. I narrowly swerved from a punch with its remaining arm, then returned fire again with my guns at point-blank. They hit his left side.

An explosion rocked the Shootist. Its other arm fell off, and its body, already mashed into, began to pour smoke. Rapid-fire flashes emitted from its torso, and then one from its head. My right side was already orange, and it became red, along with a yellow midsection. I moved a good distance away, just in case he should try to ram me, then turned and saw him idling after. I fired my guns again. The impact point flashed with explosions, and his mech began to split open. I fired the medium lasers at what remained. The mech flashed blue, then exploded, similar to Scott's mech.

Meanwhile, Sandy and the Enforcer had done little to each other. Both nibbled back and forth with guns and lasers. I added my guns, and while missing with most of them, threw it off balance, causing it to trip over some stones. As it got up, it was a nice target for a swarm of the Bushwhacker's missiles.

The enforcer's body flashed red, and its arms and sides were orange. It fired its lasers, and began to circle-dodge our shots. My cockpit warmed a little when four medium laser shots missed their mark. I aimed and fired my guns again, and the shells led back a little and struck the right side, causing it and the right arm to blacken out, indicating their destruction. Then, to all my delight, the Enforcer lit up and exploded in a blue flash. I keyed her in.

"Why did he die?" I asked. "I thought you had to lose your midsection! What, did he get too high overall damage or something?"

"His right torso got destroyed. When you have an XL engine, it makes all torso areas vulnerable," she replied.

"What's an XL engine?"

"It means 'extra light'. It only weighs half as much, but it makes you, in theory, three times as vulnerable. It's really good for certain things, but only if you can pack on enough firepower and armor to make it worth it. The Enforcer variant you just killed had one. So does my mech. Your Cataphract does too, I think."

"Yep. This thing has an ass load of things to shoot."

True words-I preferred it to the Champion I had used before. It felt a lot more vulnerable, and it was ugly as hell. This thing looked like a killing machine, not a walking airplane.

Another couple enemies rose up out of the savanna, a Panther and a Victor. One looked like a boxy robot toy with a gun strapped to its arm. The other looked like a man with a crown of some sort. I picked out the larger of the two, then stopped, turned left and flanked. Sandy fired a small swarm of missiles, and most of them struck the front and sides of the charging Victor. They had no visible effect on its stability.

"Smart move," I said. "Take out the big one first. I'll assist."

I aimed at the little shape in the distance, and did the usual combo of my UAC5 and LB10X. I saw no impact effect, but I did notice the smaller mech, the Panther, firing a strange blue blob, similar to the one fired by the Specter. It carried the same effect-harsh impact, blinding flash and sparks everywhere. I stopped moving, then aimed at it-my guns where quick to reload-and fired. From where I was, I saw its chest crumple, explosions welling up around its left side. Sandy fired her weapons, most of them connecting. A final red beam caused its left side to literally fall off.

The big, mean, Samurai-looking Victor drew close and fired its arm-mounted gun. A thundering impact hit me mech, and my entire body-both sides and center-began to turn red. Another blue blob from the Panther hit lower, and my leg joined the body. I moved foreword, but it said 'actuator damaged'. I could barely crawl. I was a sitting duck.

"How do you self destruct?" I called out, not completely serious. I didn't want to lose.

After no reply came through, I fired all weapons-my guns and lasers-at the Victor. Oh, it did burn. Its entire upper body smoked and crackled and shed metal. Then, it teetered-and fell over.

This was my chance. I moved up close, then fired off my LB10X. The bullets scoured into the right side. It didn't have a LX engine. I fired the UAC5, then the lasers. They blew the midsection apart. The familiar blue flash brightened the sky, then faded into smoke and fire.

Sandy had fired her big right arm gun (no idea what it was called) and destroyed the Panther, scorching the wreckage with her laser just for good measure. With this satisfaction, I slowly waddled on, watching her speed ahead. But then, I noticed a hail of missiles flying through the reddish sky. I hoped they would hit the ground, but no-every one of them hit her. I quickly selected to see her status. Red and orange everywhere. I passed up a group of trees to my left, and saw a stout dark figure. I targeted it, and it said, "Catapult".

The Catapult fired another swarm of missiles, then some lighting-fast beams of some sort. Sandy's Bushwhacker exploded. Its image disappeared from my HUD.

All too late, my hand toggled the zoom button. It let me see an enlarged image of the Catapult, a round, egg-shaped machine with big missile packs on its shoulders. It didn't move at all. Smoke billowed from its fuselage. Then it disappeared from my HUD as well. I aimed for the center, near the window glass, then fired my cannon-combo. Both guns sounded, as usual. But then horror struck as my UAC5 became red on my weapon list, and read 'jammed, weapon disabled'. I bore it out, and trudged toward the metal egg, watching it raise its ''head'' again, the smoke fading away.

A series of beeps sounded, along with 'warning, missile lock'. Shit. I knew that I was slow as hell, so I fired one last LB10X shot into its center before the Catapult could reach a full trot. The flashed around its body erupted into the now-familiar blue explosion marking the destruction of a fusion reactor.

What? I thought. I'd only brought its body to orange at the very worst! Why did it explode?

Well, my gratitude was interrupted by the swarm of missiles, which exploded all around me, engulfing my cockpit in a bright yellow inferno. The body of my Cataphract flashed red, then disappeared. 'You're out' appeared before me again.

I took off the helmet, then walked out to join the other losers. Almost everyone was out. Even Jinni, I'd noticed. In fact, the only person I couldn't find was Frank Rice.

"Good job!" shouted Sandy, thoroughly startling me. "You kicked ass! This is my first kill."

A man looked at her and guffawed, got told to piss off, then shrugged away with his friends. Frank's out-of-place attire now filled the doorway, a look of triumph on his face. Behind him was a sullen, freckle-faced man Sandy identified as Scott.

"Looks like I got it again," said Frank, head raised in mock triumph. He patted Jinni's shoulder. She punched his arm, then his face. Frank rubbed his jaw, then just stood and laughed.

The scores came out, and as usual, Sandy and the boys were low on the list- tenth, twelfth and thirteenth respectively. Jinni was fifth, Scott was third, and Frank Rice was first. And what surprise I'd felt to see Franklin Jehovah Rouse (yes, I'd told the secretary-bimbo my full name) in second place. Apparently, I'd gotten four kills, which put me ahead of Scott by one-though he'd lasted longer.

My average of kills, longevity and hit efficiency put me, according to the next list, in fifth place of twenty seven overall-just ahead of Scott, and behind four others, two of them Jinni and Frank. And Jinni's proud first- place name switched over to second, as Frank's latest victory placed him first.

With the next few matches befell a storm of Jinni's fury, particularly towards Frank Rice. I made sure to stay out of their way. But I was certain I'd got the hang of piloting.