The plan seemed simple enough, Allen thought: capture some supply bases, liberate a few supplies (no one questioned what kind), the more they brought back the more they got paid. It could add up to a cool 7 million C-bills.

For various reasons he was limited to five mechs and no vehicles. The terrain was rugged enough that nothing without legs could manage to move quickly through it, and the dropship bays were crowded with mechs and vehicles that simply wouldn’t be appropriate.

For this kind of salvage, he decided he had best come along. Justin’s continued lack of command ability had been a sore spot, and Katarina for one was having a hard time putting up with it. Which led to another sticky decision…

“What do you mean, I cannot go? You need me in an operation such as this? What if things turn messy?”

Allen shook his head. “Katarina: I know you would be the best for this, I really do. But you and Jason butt heads too often on missions. I can’t afford to have him feeling constantly assaulted, his leadership questioned. He needs to develop as a leader: as the man he was born to be. A McGee needs to be proficient in both combat and leadership. He can’t learn if you’re constantly questioning his judgment.”

Katarina finally accepted what he said, but was clearly unhappy about it. He sighed as he received a cold shoulder for the rest of the evening.

And so, the roster for the day was Allen himself in the family Warhammer, then Justin in the Grasshopper, a fairly new acquisition, Jessica in the Trebuchet and Kenny and Armando in the two Spiders. All but Justin were crack pilots with years of experience: if it weren’t for him being a McGee there would be no way he would be in charge over this group. But hopefully he would learn in time.

And so the team was dropped off and headed for the storage depots. They had almost arrived when they spotted contacts approaching.

“Everybody gear up,” intoned Justin: “we’ve got company.”

The other mechs showed up quickly. Just as Justin was about to open fire, a voice came over the open channel of his commlink.

“This is Star Commander Jason of the Diamond Shark Clan. In the interest of preserving blood and property, I propose a duel.

“I will battle with one of your warriors. If they win, we shall leave in peace and you may claim whatever prizes you came to acquire. If I win, you will leave this planet empty-handed and not return. What say you?”

Allen’s commlink tied the broadcast to a 45-ton mech his TRO designated as a Grendel: very fast, well armed but lightly armored. He pondered: the Warhammer was a heavy hitter, but without jump jets and only average response time, he would be a sitting duck next to the Grendel. The Spiders had the speed, but virtually no armor: they would be cut to shreds by the first hit of the Grendel’s weapons. And the Trebuchet had no jump jets. There was only one mech capable of facing off with this Clan mech: Justin’s Grasshopper.

It had to happen sometime. Justin had to learn to handle the pressure of combat, and emerge victorious to be accepted as a leader in the eyes of his men and women. It was now or never.

“Justin?” Allen inquired over the commlink: “you see this guy: do you think you can take him?”

Justin realized the enormity of what he was being asked. This was winner-take-all, with nothing to lose but the combat damage to one mech. And everything he needed to know was summed up in tonnage: the Grendel’s 45 tons to his 70. No way this Grendel would have enough armor to stand up to a protracted fight, and Justin’s PPC and five medium lasers should strip its armor to the core within a minute or less.

“Yeah, bro. I can take him.”

The rest of the mechs scattered about the rugged landscape, partially covered by giant mushroom-like growths. Justin pondered the new data he was just now reading: the Grendel was twice as fast as his Grasshopper, and could jump almost twice the distance he could. This wouldn’t be a piece of cake.

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Justin was unfamiliar with Clan customs, but had heard they had patterns of behavior for just about everything. Not sure what to expect, he decided to try a respectful approach. He keyed the mike to the commlink.

“So: how do we start this?”

The Clanner sneered at him. “What do you mean? We fight! Or are you so green you do not get that?”

Justin’s first move was to back up, see what the Grendel would do with some room. If it stayed distant, Justin’s PPC could harangue it: if it closed, his lasers would eat it up.

The Grendel put on a burst of speed, closing the gap between them and then some, coming around flanking him. Desperately he twisted and fired: his shots went wide. For the enemy’s part he struck twice, with a large and a medium extended range lasers. Justin was slightly rattled, but maintained his balance and jumped away.

The battle seemed to develop into a game of cat and mouse, though there were times it was hard to tell who was the cat. Occasionally Justin would score a shot: more often the Grendel’s heavier weapons would eat into his armor. Justin pressed for an advantage in the rough terrain, but found little. And then a stroke of good luck: the Grendel backed up, seeking better range and higher ground, and slipped and fell on its face.

Immediately Justin raced to its side, blasting down at the exposed back with all his weapons. Some connected: enough to eat through part of the Grendel’s rear armor and penetrate to the engine within. Sparks flew and smoke poured out from the vent.

For a moment the Grendel remained on the ground. “Perhaps you have some skill after all,” conceded the Clanner.

Justin broke into a cocky grin, feeling vindicated in the eyes of his lancemates and his brother. “Don’t you know it, Bub,” he boasted.

And suddenly the Grendel was back on its feet. “Fool! You dog! I was about to concede you the victory, but now, for calling me ‘Bub,’ I shall take you down!”

The Grendel fired all its weapons, some of them scoring further hits on Justin’s already compromised armor. He raised an arm to protect the thin armor of his chest, which protected the chest but at the price of the armor on the arm. Slowly he was being stripped of all the armor on his mech.

He fired back with all his medium lasers, still keeping an eye on his heat. He was taking it, but he soon realized the Grendel was not. Repeatedly the Clanner fired all his weapons, and the heat signature of the Grendel spiked dangerously high. Such heat spikes could force a mech to shut down, explode ammo or worse. But by some miracle the Grendel remained standing.

Fearing the Grendel’s still amazing capacity to jump, Justin backed up towards a precipice over a deep canyon. At least that way the Grendel could not jump over his back to attack him from his most vulnerable side. But suddenly he realized his error as the Grendel charged, seeking to knock him into the canyon.

He barely avoided the Grendel’s charge and stepped away from the precipice, not wishing to tempt fate a second time. He opened fire with everything he had, spiking his own heat but finally scoring some significant damage on the Grendel. It still wasn’t enough. The next attack blasted through the last of his armor in several places, with short-range missiles piercing through to the mech’s delicate vitals. And as he took damage his feet slipped out from under him and he collapsed to the ground.

The Grendel advanced upon him. “Do you surrender, Dezgra?”

“Justin:” came Allen’s voice over the commlink: “He’s made his point. We need you back home, and not in a body bag. Give it up.”

Justin saw the many flashing lights all over his console. Every part of his mech had been penetrated by weapons fire except for his head. The mech was nothing but half a metal skeleton: there was nothing more he could do.

“Uncle,” he said into the commlink. “What do you say, freebirth?” came the answer.

“Uncle! I give up! You win!” he replied, gritting his teeth. Obviously there were Inner Sphere expressions the Clanners had forgotten, or never heard.

Allen sighed, moving forward to assist Justin to stand back on his feet. “We concede, Star Commander Jason. We will leave, and not return.”

The Grendel was a battered mess, almost unrecognizable as a mech. But the Grasshopper was even worse. It was barely able to stand on both feet, let alone walk. Fortunately the fusion engine remained intact, but even the delicate gyro would have to be replaced. It could be repaired, given time and materials.

And so, the Andurien Avengers retreated from the field of battle once again, their prize unwon.

Allen reflected on how Katarina would take this news. She would be furious with him for not having brought her. Her Clanner instincts would have proved invaluable here, as would her skills. But even if she had been here in the Wolverine, how much good could she have done against the other mech’s superior firepower?

It was time to put her into another mech. Something with lots of energy weapons and heat sinks, fast and jump capable. Something mighty…