“I’ve been expecting this. I know that the Clans can have nothing to do with what I have done in
the past. I can only hope that your superiors will allow you to continue to participate in this
‘experiment’ we’ve lived for the past 8 years.” Mike face flushed. “I chose this path alone, and
I am sorry it has brought this conflict between us, my friend.”
“Aff.” Devon looked down to the desk in front of him. Mike watched as Devon’s eyes seemed
to bore through the wooden frame, just before they came up to lock with his own eyes. “I
challenge you to a Circle of Equals, Mike Strider. Today a Trial of Refusal begins. You have
brought dishonor on the Nova Cats and Steel Vipers. Today you will be forced into battle to
defend your decision.” Devon waited for Mike’s response.
“I will meet your challenge as best I can.” Mike responded. He greatly feared Devon in the
cockpit, the man was likely the second best warrior among the Nova Cats. However, due to
Mike’s age of 66, he had little choice. While he had trained much of his earlier years in
gunfighting and hand-to-hand combat, Devon had a considerable age advantage. Thanks to the
Clan system’s emphasis on youth, Devon was only 34 years of age. Mike knew that he would
probably not best the man though experience was on his side. The Clans were known for their
vigorous physical training and Mike had seen their skills firsthand many times. He looked back
up to Devon.
“I will meet you in Mech combat. The battlefield is yours to choose.” Mike said sternly. He
hated thinking about the Trial of Refusal’s results. If only another warrior had challenged him. It
could have been worse. Ristar Mechwarrior Cecil would have proven to be an even stronger
foe. Mike’s head gave a silent bow of respect towards his friend.
Devon looked down at the desk. He slumped into the visitor's chair before him, its leather
creaking and stretching. “Why did you not share your thoughts with me? You did not realize
that your participation in this experiment was as important as us Clansmen? We could have
brought the battle to Prinzelden. I would have backed a decision to fight him honorably.”
Devon’s face looked strained, and Mike could see that his friend’s emotions were finally coming
through.
“Yes, we could have challenged Prinzelden, but we would have lost. Our deaths would not have
done anything to right the wrong done to our unit.” Mike said. “I know your way, but I believed
it could not work to our benefit in the situation.”
“And instead you hired an assassin to kill the man?” Devon spat, finally revealing his inner
frustration.
“Prinzelden would have never paid for the pain he caused us. A lone mercenary unit against a
fully-backed Word of Blake regimental commander?” Mike shook his head sadly. “I respect
your concepts but I can see nothing feasible about fighting that leaves our unit in tatters.”
“But you can see the feasibility in murder? Our ideas vary too drastically from one another’s on
this subject. We should have been able to discuss this issue. You must have known that we
would find out one day.”
Devon looked down at the desk before him. Finally he continued, “And what of the file on your
desk? I wonder, what secrets does it hide from my Clan and I?”
“This file protects a single person, a person I brought into this mess. I’m sure that the head of
our intelligence agency will learn of this person eventually, but until that day I am keeping the
information to myself.” Strider looked Devon straight in the eye. Both were perfectly still except
for the uncontrolled shaking of Strider’s head, a telltale sign of a past injury from long ago.
Devon was motionless, only the anger in his eyes showing any sign of life from within.
“Very well. You will keep that secret for now.” Devon’s eyes shifted from Mike’s gaze,
looking back down to the file before him. “As you have said, I have the utmost confidence that
Mechwarrior Borg will discover its existence in due time. I hope for both our sakes that it does
not prove as treasonous as your current debacle.”
Slowly Devon got up and out of the chair. He looked at Mike, a man in every way his equal
when it came to rank and rights. He stood silent for a moment before speaking again.
“Mike, I hope that you will learn to trust me and value my thoughts. I hope you will no longer
hold secrets from me and the rest of your unit. I hope that the Nova Cats and Strikers can
continue to work as a team. I hope that my wishes comfort you, because I have nothing else to
say. I will see you on the battlefield.” Devon turned and left the room, closing the door almost
casually behind him.
“Now that is a man of principles,” Mike whispered to himself, slinking lower in his chair.
Morning had come and gone, and the time left to prepare for battle was gradually coming to an
end. Both commanders had given up some of their traditional rights for the duel. Each had
agreed to a proposal made by the members of both Clan and Inner Sphere origin under their
command. The proposal had pushed for more equality in the way of technology each would use,
specifically meaning the Mechs to be piloted. Rather than their usual assault or heavy Mechs,
both pilots would be forced into the smaller light class Mechs that typically made up scout and
recon units. The actual Mech selected was the 40-ton Assassin. Despite the grave situation the
warriors on both sides, having fierce support for their commanding officers, were not yet without
a sense of irony.
Devon was winding down for the fight, spending time with his coupling partner Dana Douglas.
He knew his meditation and any resulting visions would help little in this contest of skill, only
leading to expectations. Devon also knew this fight would determine much of his Clan's power
within the unit. Mike Strider had done something that no Clan member could accept. The Inner
Sphere man was a veteran of years of combat, but his leadership skills were still new in having
founded Strider's Strikers in 3058. Devon had only started to truly trust the man when the truth
had come crashing down hard.
Rolling over in his small bed, Devon eyed his partner. Dana was laying on her back, her eyes
twinkling like a late autumn frost. Despite the situation, a smile danced ever so lightly across her
lips. She turned to him, her eyes having caught his own watching her.
Devon smiled. He rolled from his side back onto his back. Looking up to the low ceiling above
them, he finally spoke.
"Why did he not tell me? Why is it this man thought he could get away with such cowardice?"
It was now Dana's turned to roll. She almost always faced him directly when they were talking
of serious topics. She blinked once, and when her eyes opened they were aimed his way.
the past. I can only hope that your superiors will allow you to continue to participate in this
‘experiment’ we’ve lived for the past 8 years.” Mike face flushed. “I chose this path alone, and
I am sorry it has brought this conflict between us, my friend.”
“Aff.” Devon looked down to the desk in front of him. Mike watched as Devon’s eyes seemed
to bore through the wooden frame, just before they came up to lock with his own eyes. “I
challenge you to a Circle of Equals, Mike Strider. Today a Trial of Refusal begins. You have
brought dishonor on the Nova Cats and Steel Vipers. Today you will be forced into battle to
defend your decision.” Devon waited for Mike’s response.
“I will meet your challenge as best I can.” Mike responded. He greatly feared Devon in the
cockpit, the man was likely the second best warrior among the Nova Cats. However, due to
Mike’s age of 66, he had little choice. While he had trained much of his earlier years in
gunfighting and hand-to-hand combat, Devon had a considerable age advantage. Thanks to the
Clan system’s emphasis on youth, Devon was only 34 years of age. Mike knew that he would
probably not best the man though experience was on his side. The Clans were known for their
vigorous physical training and Mike had seen their skills firsthand many times. He looked back
up to Devon.
“I will meet you in Mech combat. The battlefield is yours to choose.” Mike said sternly. He
hated thinking about the Trial of Refusal’s results. If only another warrior had challenged him. It
could have been worse. Ristar Mechwarrior Cecil would have proven to be an even stronger
foe. Mike’s head gave a silent bow of respect towards his friend.
Devon looked down at the desk. He slumped into the visitor's chair before him, its leather
creaking and stretching. “Why did you not share your thoughts with me? You did not realize
that your participation in this experiment was as important as us Clansmen? We could have
brought the battle to Prinzelden. I would have backed a decision to fight him honorably.”
Devon’s face looked strained, and Mike could see that his friend’s emotions were finally coming
through.
“Yes, we could have challenged Prinzelden, but we would have lost. Our deaths would not have
done anything to right the wrong done to our unit.” Mike said. “I know your way, but I believed
it could not work to our benefit in the situation.”
“And instead you hired an assassin to kill the man?” Devon spat, finally revealing his inner
frustration.
“Prinzelden would have never paid for the pain he caused us. A lone mercenary unit against a
fully-backed Word of Blake regimental commander?” Mike shook his head sadly. “I respect
your concepts but I can see nothing feasible about fighting that leaves our unit in tatters.”
“But you can see the feasibility in murder? Our ideas vary too drastically from one another’s on
this subject. We should have been able to discuss this issue. You must have known that we
would find out one day.”
Devon looked down at the desk before him. Finally he continued, “And what of the file on your
desk? I wonder, what secrets does it hide from my Clan and I?”
“This file protects a single person, a person I brought into this mess. I’m sure that the head of
our intelligence agency will learn of this person eventually, but until that day I am keeping the
information to myself.” Strider looked Devon straight in the eye. Both were perfectly still except
for the uncontrolled shaking of Strider’s head, a telltale sign of a past injury from long ago.
Devon was motionless, only the anger in his eyes showing any sign of life from within.
“Very well. You will keep that secret for now.” Devon’s eyes shifted from Mike’s gaze,
looking back down to the file before him. “As you have said, I have the utmost confidence that
Mechwarrior Borg will discover its existence in due time. I hope for both our sakes that it does
not prove as treasonous as your current debacle.”
Slowly Devon got up and out of the chair. He looked at Mike, a man in every way his equal
when it came to rank and rights. He stood silent for a moment before speaking again.
“Mike, I hope that you will learn to trust me and value my thoughts. I hope you will no longer
hold secrets from me and the rest of your unit. I hope that the Nova Cats and Strikers can
continue to work as a team. I hope that my wishes comfort you, because I have nothing else to
say. I will see you on the battlefield.” Devon turned and left the room, closing the door almost
casually behind him.
“Now that is a man of principles,” Mike whispered to himself, slinking lower in his chair.
Morning had come and gone, and the time left to prepare for battle was gradually coming to an
end. Both commanders had given up some of their traditional rights for the duel. Each had
agreed to a proposal made by the members of both Clan and Inner Sphere origin under their
command. The proposal had pushed for more equality in the way of technology each would use,
specifically meaning the Mechs to be piloted. Rather than their usual assault or heavy Mechs,
both pilots would be forced into the smaller light class Mechs that typically made up scout and
recon units. The actual Mech selected was the 40-ton Assassin. Despite the grave situation the
warriors on both sides, having fierce support for their commanding officers, were not yet without
a sense of irony.
Devon was winding down for the fight, spending time with his coupling partner Dana Douglas.
He knew his meditation and any resulting visions would help little in this contest of skill, only
leading to expectations. Devon also knew this fight would determine much of his Clan's power
within the unit. Mike Strider had done something that no Clan member could accept. The Inner
Sphere man was a veteran of years of combat, but his leadership skills were still new in having
founded Strider's Strikers in 3058. Devon had only started to truly trust the man when the truth
had come crashing down hard.
Rolling over in his small bed, Devon eyed his partner. Dana was laying on her back, her eyes
twinkling like a late autumn frost. Despite the situation, a smile danced ever so lightly across her
lips. She turned to him, her eyes having caught his own watching her.
Devon smiled. He rolled from his side back onto his back. Looking up to the low ceiling above
them, he finally spoke.
"Why did he not tell me? Why is it this man thought he could get away with such cowardice?"
It was now Dana's turned to roll. She almost always faced him directly when they were talking
of serious topics. She blinked once, and when her eyes opened they were aimed his way.
| Not Without Proof (1)... |
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