Akira pulled his shaving kit into his lap, and lifted a small flashlight and a worn piece of chalk from it, which he shoved into his left front pocket along with the pocket knife he'd used before. Now he shut off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. After waiting with eyes closed for thirty heartbeats, he opened his eyes again, and they adjusted readily to the light cast by the white sliver of Terra's only moon.

He swung the sword onto his back—the hilt rising at his left shoulder—and walked around the bed to the arcadia doors. Using a strip of knitted black cloth that he pulled from his pocket, Akira made a mask by wrapping the strip around his face and head until only his eyes and a thin strip of flesh around them showed. Lastly, he slipped on a pair of black leather gloves, opened the door, and moved out into the shadows.

He became part of the night, slipping from inky patches of shadow to low hillsides covered with long stalks of wind-whipped sea grass. The crash of waves on the beach and the rustling of leaves swallowed what few sounds Akira actually did make during his journey. Where the entrance to a canal cut across the beach, he slipped into the water and waded through to the other side.

Moving with exaggerated caution and care, it took him half an hour to cross 500 meters of uninhabited beach, but Akira surrendered himself to his sense of the night and moved with it. He only took conscious note of things that were out of the ordinary. Other than a few guests hurrying to attend the Marik-sponsored reception, there was little to attract his attention.

Guided only by feel, Akira worked up along the rocky face forming the south shore. The climb was not difficult for him, except when he had to backtrack once after running out of handholds for pulling himself up. Compared to the cliffsides on his grandfather's estate on Rasalhague, this ten-meter edifice was nothing. After finally pulling himself up over the top, Akira lay there quietly to listen and regain his strength.

While lying there, he recalled his map. ComStar or not, when they extended this spit of land and built beneath it, they had to provide for ventilation. With luck, I can find a vent large enough to slip through. If not, I'll have to try some of the tricks I learned for getting unauthorized supplies from the Eleventh Vegan Legion's depot. If they work here on Terra, I'll be into the building's restricted areas tomorrow.

Having heard nothing suspicious while resting at the cliff-edge, Akira proceeded to work his way inland through the thick, tangled undergrowth. His desire to move as quietly as possible made it difficult going, but it was not long before he found a grate-covered cement cylinder jutting about half a meter out from a low rise.

He took a deep whiff of the moist air pouring from the opening. Mech coolant!He smiled approvingly. Vented out here, it mixes with the ocean breezes and no one can detect it. One of the MechWarriors must have had a vest leak this afternoon, or been working on his 'Mech earlier.

Cupping the flashlight in his hands to partially hide its beam, Akira peered closely at the four bolts securing the grate to the vent. He smiled and fished out his pocket knife. Salt air and warm weather had done their work on the bolts, and so Akira made short work of them with a few strong strokes of the knife's hacksaw blade.

Shifting the sword around to his belly, he then lowered himself feet first into the diagonally set shaft. Though more narrow and confining than a 'Mech cockpit, it held no terrors for Akira. With this tight a fit, I can easily climb back up.He lifted the grate back into place, then slid down into the darkness.

At a depth of about seven meters, his shaft intersected another tunnel of roughly double its diameter. Akira dropped into it and crouched. Taking a small piece of chalk from his pocket, he marked his tunnel with a triangle pointing toward the surface. Then he looked both up and back along the tunnel, before choosing to head south toward the ocean.

Akira moved carefully on through the ventilation tunnel, using the flashlight only when absolutely necessary. When he did, he kept the burst of light short so that it would not interfere with his nightvision. Twelve meters in, the main shaft began to slant down at a sharp angle, with another shaft moving laterally off to the west.

Akira stopped. The air's moister coming from down there. Apparently, the ComStar training facility does extend beneath the ocean.Reluctant to head down the shaft for fear it might become too steep or slick for him to climb back out, Akira cut west along the tunnel he visualized as running roughly parallel to the cliff face.

Ten meters in, he saw light pouring from a vent. His heart pounded as he forced himself to inch down the tunnel. Straining to hear the sounds coming from below, he soon identified voices, whose words he valiantly tried to discern and their meaning decipher. Then he reached the vent itself.

Akira's heart leaped to his throat. I've died and gone to Valhalla.Dumbfounded, he stared at the scene below. By the Dragon's blood! It's either Valhalla or the Universe's own hell...

Stretching back through the cavernous chamber below him, rank after rank of BattleMechs confronted Akira. Grouped by weight, with the lightest 'Mechs nearest the walls and working inward to the titanic assault 'Mechs in the center, the war machines stood in neat, orderly lines like soldiers at attention. Dwarfed by their charges, Techs and astechs in yellow Acolyte robes moved repair and maintenance equipment over and around the 'Mechs.

Akira tried to wet his lips, but his mouth had gone utterly dry. The long lines of 'Mechs receded so deeply into the room that he could barely make out the back rows. Each machine gleamed white except for the ComStar logo emblazoned in gold upon its chest.

Akira rubbed his eyes in disbelief, but he could not deny the reality of this legion of BattleMechs under ComStar's arms. His heart sank. My father may believe he saw the Yellow Bird when he fought Morgan Kell, but he was mistaken. It's this—this horde of 'Mechs that will be the Dragon's death.Staring at the nearest machines, he saw that these were not even battlefield salvage. If any of these 'Mechs have ever seen battle, I'll gladly defend the Lyran border all by myself.

Badly shaken, Akira crawled back through the tunnels to the vent shaft, erasing his chalk marks as he went. Wedging his knees, elbows, and back against the tunnel walls, letting the sword hang across his chest again, he slowly nudged his way up to the surface. At the exit, Akira moved the grate off the tunnel and lowered it to the ground. He uncoiled himself from the cramped shaft, then straightened up to stretch his weary muscles.

The garrote dropped around Akira's throat and jerked him backward as his assailant tried to pull it tight. Because it caught on the sword's hilt, the garrote failed to crush Akira's windpipe cleanly, giving him a chance to react to the ambush. The Mech-Warrior clawed at the wire with his right hand as he drove his left elbow back into his assailant's chest. Akira heard ribs pop with the second blow. As the garrote slackened slightly, he grabbed it in both hands and pulled. Ducking quickly then, he bent forward and flipped his attacker over his head.

Even before his assailant hit the ground, Akira had wrapped his left hand around the sword's sheath and pulled it free of his body. Though his attention was focused on the person lying before him, he caught a flash of something moving on his left as he started to draw the blade. Emerging from the brush, another attacker lunged forward with a metallic truncheon just shorter than the sword. Pivoting to the left, Akira made a weak attempt at parrying the blow with his half-drawn blade, but utterly failed to stop the attack.