The thunderous footfalls of the Wolfhound's iron boots reverberated within the cockpit. Each stomp shook the interior, jostling it's pilot in his seat as he held fast to the controls. "Damned shock absorbers are acting up again." Han Bjornson grumbled to himself, his guttural accent betraying the frustrations he felt.

When the opportunity to work with experimental mechs, Lostech and cutting edge technology presented itself back at the Nagelring, Han had jumped on it. It [i]sounded[/i] like a great way to familiarize himself with the weapons of the future while potentially building his standing within the military. On paper, it sounded like a good idea.

Then he climbed into the cockpit of a Wolfhound with faulty shock absorbers.

Bjornson dropped a hand from the accelerator. "Come on, girl. Don't give me this." He growled, slamming a fist down on the console. The sub-systems screen flickered, and the cockpit's shaking ceased as the shock absorbers stabilized. It was only a temporary fix. If history was anything to go by they'd fail the moment it was least convenient. "Better than nothing." Han sighed, moving his gloved fist back to grasp the accelerator.

Captain Hart's voice filtered through the neurohelmet that sat on Bjornson's shoulders. Static intermingled with the Davion's orders, making it difficult to understand. Thankfully his orders were simple, and didn't require precise wording. Bjornson was to proceed forward, heading in the direction of grid 5B5D along with the other ground pounders. Han pressed down on the radio transmitter button, letting his own voice filter through the mech's comm system. "Understood, sir. I'm taking point."

Han eased forward on the accelerator, so as to give the shock absorbers adequate time to adjust to the increase in footfalls. He sped the mech up, pushing it until the Wolfhound hit it's full stride. He adored the speed that the light mech was capable of. The sheer momentum of it gave Han a sense of power as he sat at it's controls, guiding that massive hull of steel across the dusty desert floor.

Out of all the mechs, Han's Wolfhound had the fastest foot speed. Clocking in at over ninety seven kilometers an hour, the WLF-1 was the easy choice for a lead unit. It was fitting that Bjornson had been assigned to it, then, considering the fact that he was far and away the most disciplined of the cadets. Han had never flinched away from danger, and he had never disobeyed an order- unlike some of the other less obedient [i]delinquents[/i] he was working with.

His gaze flickered over to the series of displays tied to the Beagle Active Probe that had been fitted within his left arm. Han's attention lingered on the static-ridden image of the lance's Griffin. It's pilot was the first to come to mind when the word delinquent flashed across his mind. The second was at the helm of the Wolverine displayed just to the right of the Griffin.

Cadets Rall and Von Wulfhart were as reckless as they came. Han silently prayed they'd keep themselves in check until the exercises were over so that he could practice in peace without incident. For some reason, the Rasalhague halfbreed got the feeling that wouldn't be the case.

Han was [i]supposed[/i] to be practicing his in-combat maneuvering today. His piloting skills were sharp, but Bjornson still had trouble aiming while still maintaining a good speed. Instead of practicing vital Mechwarrior skills, however, Han and his lance were tasked with playing security escort for an engineer detachment looking to fix a regional sensor net. It was a frustratingly mundane and unnecessary duty. Who was going to attack those engineers all the way out here? The only potential threat were pirates, but no raider with half a brain would go up against a world so heavily garrisoned. Han just felt like he could be doing so much more with his time in a mech like this one.

Sighing, Bjornson shook it off. He wasn't going to openly complain about an assignment; that was unbecoming of someone of his position. A soldier obeyed his orders without question, and a nobleman did not [i]whine.[/i] He focused his attention on the task at hand, boring as it may be. He kept the Wolfhound moving at full speed, letting himself get ahead of the rest of the unit a ways. His sensors weren't picking up anything out of the ordinary- not that he was expecting them to all the way out here. The worst the Probe could potentially find was a dust storm sweeping in, but even that would just be an inconvenience for them. There was no real practice to be had here outside of moving in standard formation. All he could see were rock formations and red dust for miles.

His impatience got the better of him. Han reached over and switched on the transmitter again. "Captain, if I may, how far are we from the sensor network?" Bjornson asked, wondering more about how long they would actually be out here than how the task itself was coming along. He really should've considered keeping something to do in his cockpit for missions like this. Maybe a book, or something to fiddle with...