Douglas Hartman clutched the battered DVD case in his hand,
the nervous sweat pouring off making the scratched plastic hard to
grasp. One more person was in line ahead of him, and then it would be
his turn to show them what he could do.

The door across the hall opened, and Hartman smirked
internally as the boy who staggered out fought back tears. Choking
back a sob, the failed supplicant motioned the man at the head of the
line into the chamber, placing Hartman at the head of the line.
Clasping his hands to hide his nerves, he leaned back in his chair as
he waited to make his entry in the Fifth Annual New Technology Expo
for Fasa Corporation.

***

"Sit down," the balding giant behind the desk intoned, "and
insert your data in the slot in front of you."

Hartman's hands shook slightly as he slid the disk into the
receptacle mounted on the edge of the desk. As he took a deep breath
to begin his presentation, the giant's hand rose. "Stop. Let the
information speak for itself."

A holograph sprang to life in the middle of the desk. A squat
cylinder with a half dozen thick cables sticking out of the back began
to rotate between the two men. An errie voice began to recite it's
conclusions.

"Targeting Aquisition Gear, Mark II. Equipment, exclusive to
Inner Sphere. 5 Tons. Item has a 50 hex range, and ignores terrain
when calculating Line-of-Sight. Acts in a manner identical to a
ClanTech Targeting Computer when designating specific hit locations.
Once item has achieved target lock, it will never lose lock unless the
mounting platform is destroyed or the pilot designates a new target.
Ignores the effects of ECM."

"Tech Level: 8. Battle Value impossible to calculate."

"Eight?! It's balanced! It uses a newly discovered property of
tacyons and the talents of some Clan Coyote scientist-Caste bondsmen
to..."

"Silence." The single word, spoken in tones of ice, shut
Hartman up immediately. The man stood, his head brushing the ceiling.
"Come with me."

He led Hartman to a massive table that made up most of the
left side of the office. Inside the holotank, hundreds of two inch
high Battlemechs tossed simulated missiles, fired simulated lasers,
and vanished in simulated fireballs. At one end of the table a
floating globe of light labeled 'Terra' disgorged miniature 'Mechs by
the dozen, while a similar sphere entitled 'Strana Mecha' spat out
Clan BattleMechs.

The Balancer gestured at the table. "Each of these 'Mechs is
run by a dedicated processor. There are 1200 set aside for the Inner
Sphere, 1000 for the Clans. Every time a 'Mech is destroyed, it
regenerates within fifteen seconds from the bases, in whatever class
or configuration the Faction Server decides in necessary.  Note how
this aids the side closest to their origin point, since reinforcements
travel a much shorter distance. Each side attempts to close and
destroy the other's base, but this see-saw, never ending battle means
that the sides are roughly in balance."

He held up the DVD that he has removed from the desk. "Now,
let's see what happens when we add your toy." He slid the disk into a
waiting tray and closed it with a snap.

For a few moments nothing appeared to happen, but Hartman
noted that replacement 'Mechs for the Inner Sphere were no longer
rushing to the center of the table. Instead, a new formation began to
form in the dead zone between the respawner and the battle. *Archers*,
*Catapults*, *O'Bakemos*, and other missile equipped 'Mechs began to
gather themselves in massive numbers, while the remaining third of the
reinforcements - lights and mediums, all fast 'Mechs equipped with the
new TAG system, formed into lances between their missile-armed
cousins. The tattered remains of the Inner Sphere line, bereft of
support from their colleagues, began to crack. Fresh Clan
reinforcements marshaled by the 'IlKhan' system exploited breaches in
the Inner Sphere line, catching the defenders between two fires. The
outnumbered Inner Sphere force finally broke and retreated, dozens
falling during the rout - which appeared as still more missile and TAG
equipped 'Mechs behind the battle line forming to face the charging
Clanners.

As the Clan 'Mechs approached the new units awaiting them, the
scout 'Mechs sprinted ahead, designating targets for their brethren.
The Inner Sphere battle line began to spit massive Arrow-IV volleys,
sprinkled here and there with Semi-Guilded LRMs. Clan 'Mechs fell in
staggering numbers, the huge missiles repeatedly hammering the weakest
points of each target. The Clanners reeled under the firepower
concentrated on them, and only few had the range to target the swiftly
moving targeting 'Mechs that hovered outside the Clan battleline's
range. Each that fell, however, was quickly replaced as new scouts
arrived from 'Terra'. New classes of lights appeared, mounting little
but engines, armor, and the new TAG system.

The Clan master computer attempted to compensate with 'Mechs
mounting AMS, but this merely slowed the destruction, as more missiles
were sent at fewer targets, always enough to saturate whatever
defenses were presented. It was the Clan's turn to flee, and the Inner
Sphere battle line pressed onward in their wake.

The Inner Sphere countercharge slowed as they neared the Clan
base, the logistical situation now favoring the Clanners. The
'Precentor Martial' switched tactics, advancing at a crawl and sending
random lances veering at the solidifying Clan line as a distraction.
Each destroyed 'Mech was replaced with a VTOL hauling as many missile
reloads as it could. The Inner Sphere players set up a resupply point
within spitting distance of the Clan base, with sortie after sortie by
the Clan players blown to pieces.

The final attack was signaled by the massed suicidal attacks
by every Inner Sphere VTOL on the board. As each was blown out of the
sky, fast medium 'Mechs mounting MASC and more conventional weapons
sprinted from the Inner Sphere base. Each Clan 'Mech destroyed was
also swiftly replaced, but the disparity of firepower pushed the lines
steadily back - until the first Inner Sphere 'Mech could target
'Strana Mecha'. Dozens of TAG lines painted the globe, and every 'Mech
mounting the massive Arrow IV missiles went into rapid fire. Freed
from the punishing attacks that had previously decimated their ranks,
the Clans swiftly counterattacked, shredding the light 'Mechs by the
score, but for every two the destroyed, another stepped forward to
lase the shimmering sphere. Even as the missile-equipped 'Mechs began
to detonate the Inner Sphere continued to concentrate all fire on
their goal. The volume of fire began to slow, but not quick enough, as
the Clan base began to shimmer. More than half the Inner Sphere line
was down when the final volley punched through the defenses of 'Strana
Mecha'. The flash from the detonating worldlet washed over half the
table, and when it cleared there was not a single Clan 'Mech left.

The Balancer looked in contempt at Hartman as he removed the
DVD from the holotable. "Your new idea is *rejected*." Hurling the
disk like a frisbee, he threw it into an opening in the far wall.
Hartman rose with a cry and pursued his life's work. The giant's roar
to stop fell on deaf ears as the man skid through the doorway and slid
to a halt.

Arrayed along the wall, fading into infinity, were display
showcasing examples of unknown Tech. A very few nearest the door were
labeled as Level 4, with the numbers increasing with the
outlandishness of the devices. Three hundred ton 'Mechs, Naval guass
cannons mounted on long, six legged 'Mechs, weapons of mass
destruction, 'Warp' Drives, man-portable Arrow IV launchers, total
myromer body replacements, and things so strange that he couldn't even
guess at their purpose stretched as far as he could see. Hartman was
taking it all in when the hand fell on his shoulder.

The Balancer's eyes were cold. "You have seen things you
should not have. We must ensure that you do not speak of them." Two
guards appeared at his side, grasping his arms. The giant glared at
the cowering fanboy and pronounced sentence. "Take him to.. The Pit."

Doug Hartman managed to maintain his composure as the guard
dragged him away until they leaned him over the edge of the chasm. He
gibbered as he saw the fate that awaited him. There, teeming below him
in a cannibalistic frenzy were hundreds - *thousands* - of the most
revolting creatures produced by the horrors of natural selection.

The lawyers roared as one as they sighted their prey. Hartman
screamed all the way down.

The End.