[dcs_p]Devon closed his eyes again. He knew much about the commander, much about
the man’s style and his friendship with most of the Inner Sphere Mechwarriors
and support personnel. Most of all he knew about his speciality in tactics,
whether it was defending against an overwhelming enemy force, or planning an
assault. Regardless of the man’s abilities in the cockpit, Devon couldn’t be sure
quite what to expect.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]He opened his mouth, then closed it. He craned his neck across the pillow closer
to Dana’s, this time looking away from the white ceiling and directly in her eyes.
“I fear him in some ways. I fear what he can do without lasers or missiles or
autocannons. He is a gifted pilot in physical combat, skills honed in that
Berserker of his. I hope it does not come to that sort of combat.”[/dcs_p]
…
[dcs_p]As the minutes ticked by, Mike Strider prepared for the match in his own way…
alone. Having once piloted light Mechs for a short number of years, he might be
at the top of his game in the competition. He felt a certain guilt over his
advantage, but was not openly showing much of it. He knew Devon’s accuracy
with almost any Mech weapon still meant the duel would be an uphill battle. He
had only a few more hours before the actual match would begin. He began
reading the technical readout on the 40-ton Assassin for a sixth time, his eyes
carefully skimming the systems layout for any potential problems that might occur
with armor protection, weak joints, or God forbid, common weapons malfunctions.
The Mech’s weak weaponry would ensure a lasting battle and provide little room
for trickery. This would be a true test of piloting ability, especially if the fighting
arena proved interesting. Mike knew the danger his unit faced, especially if he
was lost and unable to do anything to lead it away from the danger it had recently
faced from the Word of Blake’s radical sect.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]Coming across the notable pilot history for the Assassin’s technical readout, Mike
hesitated for a long second. Touching his beard with his index finger, he pushed
into the short goatee and concentrated for only a moment. His eyes weren’t
playing tricks on him after all. His head had been shaking ever so slightly again.
The faint tremble shot warning lights through his head. Something was definitely
misfiring in his nervous system.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]Jasmine. It was her that had put the whole idea in his head. She’d been the first
to tell him about his nervous shaking, or his “rattle” as he called it ever since then,
though dozens of Striker personnel confirmed it when Mike had actually asked
them about it. It was funny how he’d never really thought about it before. He’d
never taken the tests, never confirmed that he indeed had Parkinson’s disease.
He’d cross that bridge when he came to notice something else, something
worse. Mike pushed that thought to the back of his head.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]The technical readout section referring to famous and infamous pilots was his
favorite portion of every readout manual. Not only did it speak volumes about
mostly unknown Mechwarriors, not to mention the infamous ones like the Bounty
Hunter himself, but it always reminded Mike of his own experiences with each
particular Mech design and the pilots he’d encountered as a mercenary. Whether
it involved an enemy or a friend, Mike reminisced of how he’d survived a bout with
the particular design or how his allies had used it to some effect. And this time, it
was his friend that came to mind.[/dcs_p]