Lost destiny

by Michael A. Stackpole

  The bitterness returned in Deirdre's voice. "If you regret killing so much, why are you in the military? Why don't you follow the advice you gave me a moment ago and leave it?"

  "Perhaps because, like you, Doctor, I have reasons that demand I remain." Kai looked down, avoiding her angry eyes. "Being willing to accept the responsibility of taking another person's life does not mean I enjoy it. Here, now, killing those two was the only expedient way to continuing to survive."

  "You and your kind are animals."

  "So aren't we all, Doctor." Kai scooped up the autorifle and slung it over his shoulder. "Some of us just aren't afraid to admit it."

  * * *

  Scouting along the bounty hunters' backtrail, Kai found a beat-up old hovertruck. A quick search of it produced a packet of information sheets issued by ComStar to provide the bounty hunters with targets for their searches. He found the warrant for his own capture and destroyed it. He also discovered two other fugitive warrants that described other things he had done but that had not been linked with Dave Jewell.

  More important to him, however, was the discovery of a grid map of the area. Truper and Jocko had been assigned to search a wedge of territory that included the small meadow through which the stream ran. It narrowed to a point that Kai recognized as an old firebase. It had been little more than a compound with some quonset huts and storage facilities, but the map made it look as if ComStar had found a new use for it.

  "Definitely worth checking out, I think." It occurred to Kai that if one team of bounty-hunters had been given that slice of territory, others would be working similar search zones. Assuming not all the hunters were as bloodthirsty as Truper and Jocko, it struck Kai as quite possible that other refugees had been rounded up and imprisoned at the fire-base.

  After a minute or two of fiddling with the ignition panel, he overrode it and punched in a code that started the hoverfans. By the time he brought the truck back to the meadow, he'd hit on a perfect plan for getting into and out of the firebase. Drawing his pistol, he set to work.

  Deirdre looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "I thought you'd abandoned me."

  Kai shook his head. "Nope. Just making sure our cover story holds together when we get where we're going."

  "I heard shots . . . two. Was there someone else out there?"

  "No." Kai hesitated. "Just something I had to do."

  "What?"

  "You don't want to know." His tongue played over the split in his lip. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

  Deirdre stood slowly and brushed pine needles from her clothes. Hugging her arms around herself, she met his eyes with a steely stare. "Tell me."

  "Jocko still had a face." Kai's eyes narrowed as he braced for her reaction. "It's time for Dave Jewell to die, and Jocko's the right size."

  Deirdre blinked several times as what he was telling her sank in. She opened her mouth to say something, but Kai cut her off before she could utter a sound.

  "Yes, Doctor, not only do I kill, but I'm willing to mutilate an enemy corpse." His hands knotted into fists. "Perhaps, if pressed, I'll even turn cannibal. There, does that fit your image of me?"

  Her lower lip trembled, but she got it under control quickly enough. "What I wanted to say, Kai, was that I've been doing a lot of thinking. I still abhor pulling that trigger, and I'll have nightmares over that decision for the rest of my life, but I do not regret saving your life. In the instant I pulled the trigger, I understood my action would cost the fat one his life, but that did not matter to me than. That it does now is part of who I am, and I must deal with that."

  She reached out with the hand that had slapped him and stroked the side of his face. "You are right, we all are animals. I would have liked to believe I was further removed from the savage passions I ascribe to you warriors. I want to be different because I must be different. I don't expect you to understand that."

  "Deirdre, I ..." Kai reached up to take her hand, but she stiffened at his touch. He saw emotions warring in her eyes and let his words trail off. "We better get going."

  Deirdre turned away and squatted down to gather up their packs. "Where to?"

  "Nowhere special, really." Kai accepted his pack from her and swung it onto his shoulder. "We're just going to drop these two off at a ComStar base, collect the bounty for them, and get away as quickly as we can."

  17

  Teeganito Astako Breaks, Alurial Continent

  Hyperion, Wolf Clan Occupation Zone

  8 March 3052

  Sitting high in the cockpit of his modified Nova Omni-Mech, Phelan felt, for a moment, like king of all he surveyed. The twisted arroyos and canyons of hard-baked red earth stretched out around him as far as his 'Mech's enhanced senses let him see. Heat shimmered up off the land, softening the sharp edges on the earth's crust and blurring away the little dust devils dancing in the distance.

  Phelan allowed himself an incautious smile. Suitable kingdom for me. It's as desolate as my chances of winning this Bloodname battle.

  For the second time, Phelan had participated in the decision ritual of a Bloodname contest. Natasha had overseen the ritual because both Phelan and Glynis served in the Thirteenth Wolf Guards. When asked to express his worthiness, Phelan had repeated the same litany of successes as before, then added, "On Hyperion I led the defense of the Simmons Dam and hunted renegades in the badlands. Prior to the battle today, I defeated an Elemental, Dean, for the right to participate here."

  Glynis, a small woman with the oversized head of all Clan aerospace pilots, stated her accomplishments more coldly. "I slew my first Smoke Jaguar before even testing out of my sibko. In the invasion, I have downed ten other fighters, and have killed five 'Mechs on the ground. On Hyperion I added two more fighters to my count, then scoured the plains of retreating armor. Prior to battle today, I slew a Mech Warrior, Manas, for the right to participate here."

  Phelan had heard, in exquisite detail from Vlad, how Glynis had ripped Manas to pieces. Manas had made the mistake, Phelan decided, of configuring an OmniMech for a straight-up battle with an Omnifighter, then he offered to meet Glynis on an open plain that gave him a clear shot at her. Of course, it also gave her easy access to him, which is why he died.

  Once again Phelan's medallion won the race and made him the hunted one. Glynis immediately chose to fight augmented, which, Phelan knew very well, made them far more than equal on the battlefield. Her aerospace Omnifighter packed much more in the way of weaponry and speed than any 'Mech he could find in a similar weight class.

  Being the hunted, the choice of venue again fell to Phelan. Having just hunted down Rasalhague stragglers in the Breaks, he knew how treacherous and tricky the labyrinth of canyons could be. He recalled in particular that Carew and the other pilots assigned to give him air cover had experienced trouble spotting and shooting their enemies in the tight, twisting gauntlets.

  If it worked for them against our fighters, it ought to work for me. He had planned to begin down in the maze, but Natasha had advised him that hiding and waiting to ambush his foe was not appropriate for a Bloodname battle. He recalled that the Black Widow had been unimpressed when Phelan scoffed at the idea of a 'Mech being able to ambush an aerospace fighter.

  "An ambush is just taking a flyer by surprise," she commented. "That should not be difficult for someone of your inventiveness."

  Not on paper, no ... For the fourth time since being set down on the planet, Phelan checked his weaponry. The Nova's boxy torso rose up above the cockpit and housed his NARC beacon equipment and deployment pods. That space could have been better filled with another weapon, but if he attained a hit with a NARC pod, it would mark Glynis' fighter with a targeting beacon. That would make his long-range missiles far more effective, and that was devoutly to be desired.

  The 'Mech's shoulders supported two thick arms. In the left Phelan had placed an LB 10-X autocannon and its ammo. He'd specified a load of ammunition that he hoped would surprise Glynis. The right arm mounted a long-range miss
ile launcher and sufficient missile racks to fight a long battle.

  One of the Techs working to modify his Nova had commented that Phelan was going out with enough munitions for a siege, not a skirmish. Phelan had laughed off the remark, but deep down, he knew the Tech was right in wondering about Phelan's choices. Phelan realized Glynis' Omnifighter, a Visigoth, was capable of blowing chunks out of his 'Mech with each pass, while he was set up to slowly grind her fighter to debris. Phelan's only chance at winning was to survive long enough to use as much of his ammo as possible.

  A red warning light flashed urgently on his command console. Phelan brought up a radar map of the area, and the computer highlighted a fast-moving object on a course that would carry it right over him. By manipulating the joysticks on each arm of his command couch, Phelan brought the twin crosshairs to the center of his holographic display. The computer condensed a 360-degree view of the area into 160 degrees, but Phelan only watched the center, his eyes flicking between it and the radar display on his auxiliary monitor.

  Coming in at over 450 knots, the aerospace fighter made itself a target for less than three-tenths of a second. Phelan's crosshairs flashed on the screen and his fingers tightened down on all three fire-control triggers. The Nova rocked back with the recoil as the left arm autocannon spit chunks of metal at the closing jet. The right arm sent a flight of missiles arrow-straight at the fighter. From above and behind the cockpit, the NARC system also sent out a small missile, trailing in the wake of the more deadly LRMs.

  Searing blue light washed away Phelan's cockpit view as the Visigoth's particle projection cannon hit in its first pass. The jagged bolt of artificial lightning ripped an uneven line up the Nova's right side. Steaming hunks of ferro-fibrous armor spilled to the ground as the 'Mech lurched badly to the left.

  Phelan fought to regain control of his 'Mech as the fighter's LRMs blasted craters in the ground all around him. They'd not hit, but hadn't missed by much and the shrapnel drummed across the surface of his 'Mech's cockpit like heavy rain. Ruby beams slashed through the cloud of dust and grit, but only one hit, and that was on the fighter's way out.

  The Nova's computer painted a grim picture of itself on the secondary monitor. The PPC beam had all but stripped the 'Mech's right side of armor. The laser had melted a huge hole in the rear armor on his left torso. Another hit in either place and Glynis would be into his 'Mech's internal structures. That left his engine and gyro-stabilizers vulnerable, not to mention the whole endo-steel skeleton supporting his BattleMech.

  Only two things made him happy. When he shifted over to infrared sensors, the Visigoth stood out like a supernova in the night sky. Glynis had used all her weapons in the initial attack, probably hoping to take him out in one fell swoop. Despite the fact that she'd almost succeeded, the heat those weapons had generated would force her to delay another attack run so she could cool down. As the speed of her run had carried her well beyond his weapon ranges, Phelan assumed Glynis would reduce her speed a bit and take her time in coming back.

  That would buy him some time, time he badly needed to get off the ridge and down into the canyon. The vulnerability of his right torso made it imperative that he find a defensive position that would force Glynis to be more cautious in her next fly-by. If she dropped 100 knots from her speed, he might get a chance to get off a good shot with his LRM launcher.

  Phelan grinned as he saw a blue light pulsing coolly on his command console. His LRMs and his autocannon had missed their target, but the NARC missile had nailed the fighter in its pass. When it hit, it deployed a small homing beacon in the target that would attract the attention of his LRMs. The rhythm slowed as the aerofighter sped away. "You got away with near-murder, this time, Glynis. Now it's gonna be my turn."

  Phelan started his 'Mech in a run up over the crest of the ridge, then down and to the east. He knew his 'Mech's image would vanish from her radar screen, as had her fighter from his, but that didn't bother him. Months of training with Carew had taught him what her response to that move would be.

  Gingerly, Phelan began picking his way down a long rockfall. The boulders, which ranged in size from that of a hovercar to some that dwarfed his 'Mech, provided him broken cover, for which he felt thankful. Using his 'Mech's nearly vestigial hands to steady himself against some rocks, he descended toward the floor of a narrow canyon.

  Suddenly his radar screen reported a high flyover by the Visigoth and the NARC indicator light began to quicken its flashing. As he had expected, the trajectory showed that Glynis was coming in on a new vector, just to confuse him, as she searched. The MechWarrior smiled and pointed his right arm skyward. As the fighter cruised over his position, and the NARC light matched his heartbeat's accelerated pace, he let fly with a whole swarm of missiles.

  She's good. Got to give her that. It looked as though Glynis had kicked the Visigoth onto its right wing and cranked the nose up in an effort to evade the LRMs streaking from the ground. Though her maneuver might have worked under normal circumstances, the NARC beacon pulled the missiles in like a net scooping up fish. The LRMs peppered the fuselage, from nose to engine, but did little more than blast paint and armor from the fighter.

  I just may have made her mad, Phelan thought, with a sinking feeling in his belly. The fighter vanished beyond the lip of the canyon, but Phelan knew with certainty that it would be back. He started his 'Mech literally hopping down the slope, wrestling with the controls to keep the behemoth on balance and upright. Glancing at the NARC beacon, he saw by its steady pulse that Glynis was close.

  Despite that warning, Glynis' attack came as a surprise. In a daring move, she dropped her speed and popped up over the lip of the canyon in a strafing run. Her ship a silver specter of death, it hung there for a second with fire blossoming from both wings, then slipped away again.

  She caught Phelan in a mid-leap with two LRM flights. The first barrage missed, blasting a spray of rock fragments through the air. The second one hit the airborne Nova on its left side. The missiles ripped armor from both the torso and left leg, but failed to breech either.

  More important, however, the missiles hitting the left leg helped unbalance the Nova. As the fifty-five-ton 'Mech came back down, the left leg folded under the body. As much as Phelan fought to keep the 'Mech upright, the huge war machine tipped drunkenly to the left, then began to somersault down the half-kilometer rockfall to the canyon floor.

  Warning klaxons and the shriek of metal filled the cockpit. Phelan cried out as the command couch's restraining straps dug into him, then slammed him back into his seat. Knowing he could no more control his fall than he could defy gravity, he brought the 'Mech's arms in across its middle and started praying.

  The Nova landed with a jolt so hard that Phelan thought Glynis must have managed another run and direct hit with her missiles. More shocks shook the Nova, but it took Phelan a second or two to realize they were from boulders loosed by her miss rather than live munitions she was shooting at him. Bad enough I have to fight an ace pilot, but my choice of battlefield is against me, too!

  The computer readout on his secondary monitor told him just how much the battlefield hated him. The tumble down the hill had scoured armor off his 'Mech's front and back, though no area was fully breached. Folding his arms in had saved them from most of the damage, though the right-arm diagram showed a feed-mechanism failure. Dammit, that means the one rack of missiles I have in there is it! I've got enough ammo for a siege, but no way to shoot it.

  Worst of all, the Nova's left leg had taken severe damage. Almost all its armor had been chipped off. The endo-steel bones in the shin had been twisted and warped so the 'Mech's left foot toed in. As Phelan brought the 'Mech upright, using its hands to brush off chunks of rock, he discovered the leg could support weight, but all pretense of mobility was gone.

  In frustration, he pounded his fist against the command console. "Stravag machine! Freebirth! The only thing left for me to do out here is die." He reached for the ejection switch, but stoppe
d as the Visigoth cruised by like a shark waiting for a diver to rise from an ocean wreck.

  Part of him wanted to signal Glynis that she had won, but he stopped. He was not about to eject because that was no guarantee she wouldn't make another strafing run to kill him anyway. He didn't think she was that bloodthirsty, but in a Bloodname battle all normal conventions went by the wayside.

  Yet it was not fear for his life that moved his hand away from the ejection button. That he should lose was no surprise, for he had started the battle grossly outgunned. But the fight was over something as stupid as a title, and he could live without that. Trying to get out of there, to live out that possibility, was logical and sensible.

  Logical and sensible, if you're not of the Clans.

  Even as those words formed in his mind, Phelan felt a shock of cold recognition that surprised him. Growing up in the Inner Sphere, he had always felt a bit apart from everyone else. Yes, he had loved his family—and still did—but he had always felt as though he belonged somewhere else. It was as though the world was not quite in focus, making him chafe whenever he had to deal with authority figures and rigid structures.

  A bondsman like Ragnar when he joined the Clans, he spent too much time trying to puzzle out who the Clans were and what Ulric wanted of him to be concerned with where and how he fit into their society. Oddly enough, he came to realize that the Clans' predatory nature, which made them constantly pit themselves against one another to prove who was the best, suited him well. Because the Clanspeople regarded him as an outsider, he fought to prove he was their equal. In doing so, he also defined who he was.

  Not until this very moment did he understand that in shaping himself to face the challenges of the Clans, he had become very much one of them. Though he could still recognize and appreciate the values he had grown up with, the Clans' urgency and drive superseded those fragments of his background. Three years before, he might have been trying to find a way out or a way to sell himself dearly, while now he sought a way to knock Glynis' fighter from the sky and win the battle.