I am Jade Falcon

by Robert Thurston

  WOLF IN A FALCON'S NEST

  Joanna let up slowly. Bailly's whole body slumped when she let go. He instantly grabbed his throat with one hand. Joanna drew her pistol while she grasped the back of Bailly's chair and swung him around.

  "I told you I do not have time for games, scum. You will tell me what you know. Put your hands behind your head and get up." She prodded him at the waist with her pistol, nudging him around to the front of the desk. He would not try anything now.

  "First I will tell you what I know," she said, coming to close range and tapping the weapon against his chest. "And then you will tell me the rest...."

  BATTLETECH

  LE5380

  I Am Jade Falcon

  Robert Thurston

  ROC

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Books USA Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

  New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

  Penguin Books Ltd, 27 Wrights Lane,

  London W8 5TZ, England

  Penguin Books Australia Ltd, Ringwood,

  Victoria, Australia

  Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2 Penguin Books (N.Z.) Ltd, 182-190 Wairau Road, Auckland 10, New Zealand

  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England

  First published by Roc, an imprint of Dutton Signet, a division of Penguin Books USA Inc.

  First Printing, March, 1995 10 987654321

  Copyright © FAS A Corporation, 1995 All rights reserved

  Series Editor: Donna Ippolito Cover: Peter Peebles

  Mechanical Drawings: Steve Venters and Dwayne Loose

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA BATTLETECH, FASA, and the distinctive BATTLETECH and FASA logos are trademarks of the FASA Corporation, 1100 W. Cermak, Suite B305, Chicago, IL 60608.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

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  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."

  To my sister and brother. Dona and Alan Thurston

  Thanks to Eugene McCrohan for all the BattleTech conversations he endured with me and the many insights he provided into the BattleTech world.

  Prologue

  For years Joanna had rarely been aware of her dreams, sometimes even wondering if she dreamed at all. But that had all changed now. Almost from the day the Clans made their truce with the Inner Sphere, not only did she dream, but her dreams seemed to haunt her waking hours, sometimes for days afterward.

  In a dream that recurred, with only occasional variations, Joanna was slogging through the dense underbrush of a forest, her legs feeling like they were made of 'Mech endo-steel, plus many extra layers of ferro-fibrous armor ...

  * * *

  As she pushed through the thorny growth, she recalled training in just such a forest. Years ago. Too many years ago.

  Separated from her sibko, she'd been pursued by the falconer in charge, a strong, burly man named Barnak who loved to give pain. That day she had tried to push her high-booted legs through underbrush just like this.

  When she reached the edge of the forest, Barnak jumped her. With the grace that burly men can sometimes achieve, he swooped down from a heavy branch, then seized her by the throat and pushed her fiercely against the trunk of the tree in whose branches he'd been hiding.

  Growling and cursing in that falconer way, he called her the worst warrior cadet he had ever had the miserable duty to train. She would fail, he announced with some pleasure. She would fail even before she qualified to climb inside the cockpit of a 'Mech. She would fail in a simple test or she would crumple emotionally, breaking down the way only the weakest Jade Falcon cadets ever did, the ones who wound up in the most humiliating Clan castes after they flushed out of warrior training.

  "You have not a chance of winning your Trial of Position, you nasty, foul creature. You will not even get that far, you are so nasty. You are so nasty you suck the dirt and bugs among these leaves and birdlime."

  As he spoke Barnak kept ramming her body against the hard, rough tree trunk, which scratched her back and left it bleeding with cuts. Her friend—she had a friend then, an actual friend. What was his name? What had happened to him? Joanna could not picture him now, but he had applied herbal salve to her wounds later that night.

  "Give up now, nasty," Barnak whispered hoarsely. "You will fail, nasty! As sure as feathers molt from birds, you will fail."

  Enraged, she managed to break his hold on her and push him two steps away. He stumbled, but even though Joanna was sure it was a fake to draw her assault, she jumped at him, screaming. Raining ineffective blows against his face and torso, she hated herself for not being able to hurt him with her fists, for not being able to wipe away his calm smile, for not breaking his damned arrogance. Suddenly she leaped up and bit him on the face, savoring the taste of his blood on her tongue.

  Barnak shrieked in pain, which she had little time to enjoy, since he then proceeded to give her one of the worst beatings of her life.

  Afterward, lying among the brush, with the hundreds of little cuts on her back throbbing with pain and the thousands of little pains from his beating, Joanna peered up at Barnak through swollen eyes and smiled with her own best arrogance. She was delighted to see blood streaming down from the laceration just below his cheekbone.

  At the end of training, when she had been the only one of her sibko to succeed in the final trial, Joanna had confronted Barnak with the kind of defiance she had learned from him.

  "You wished to speak with me, nestling?"

  "Admit you were wrong, Falconer Barnak."

  "Wrong about what?"

  "Saying I would not succeed."

  "Yes, I did tell you that."

  "So, admit you were wrong. Or fight with me in the Circle of Equals."

  He laughed. "No, I will not fight you now. What I did in the forest, I did for you."

  "For me? How could it be for me?"

  "You hated everyone. Your hate caused you too many mistakes. So I focused it on me. You hardly noticed the others after that day. You trained fiercely, and with a ferocious anger, a rage even. A rage directed at me and at life, but not your sibkin. Everything you did in your training from then on, you did well."

  "You are an arrogant bastard!"

  "I hope so. And I hope I never see you again."

  And, except for some final ceremonies, she had not.

  Yet, Joanna realized now, she had never really gotten Barnak out of her system. When her own time came to serve as a falconer in charge of training sibkos of young cadets, she had treated her charges with the same brutality she had learned from Barnak, insulting them, prodding them, humiliating them, driving them. And producing some of the finest warriors ever to test out as Jade Falcons.

  In her dream, she still feared Barnak. Branches might hide him, yet she knew he could dive gracefully again. She also knew she was a fool to worry about that ancient falconer, who was no doubt long gone or by now relegated to lower-caste status. There seemed to be worse creatures all around—cold, s
taring eyes in the forest darkness.

  She entered a clearing. Suddenly her legs were lighter. She could run, which she did. She could fly, which she did. She soared over the high grasses of a strangely hued meadow. Each step took her higher, made her feel lighter.

  Ahead of her, a few kilometers distant, she saw an array of MechWarriors and BattleMechs engaged in heavy combat. A Mad Dog was breaking apart, its pieces drifting above the scene for an impossibly long time before falling. An Elemental rode the shoulder of a Summoner, pounding at its armor with an ax.

  Suddenly she wanted to be a part of this battle, so she sailed toward it. Speeding across the meadow, she was like a kestrel swooping across a plain.

  She understood that what she was about to join was a bloodname melee. She had seen enough of those. In her last bloodname try, Joanna had been forced to start with a melee, for no Jade Falcon warrior wanted to sponsor someone as old as she. She had won the melee and gone all the way to the final round before losing. The defeat had only deepened her rage. She deserved a bloodname. At any age.

  Even though she was not in a 'Mech and had no weapons, Joanna plunged into this new melee fearlessly, her arms flailing wildly, her legs kicking out. Still able to fly, she sailed up and down the mighty BattleMechs, disabling them, turning their own firepower against them, setting off fireworks displays decorated with flying armor. Once she merely kicked at a BattleMech chest and the 'Mech fell. It crashed against another 'Mech, which toppled another, until a whole line of the awesome machines lay in a high, twisted pile. She climbed the pile.

  Standing atop the last 'Mech to fall, its hot metal burning the soles of her feet even through her boots, Joanna surveyed the devastation she had caused.

  The giant, bulky bodies of the Elementals were broken into sections, and MechWarriors hung out of their cockpits in twisted, lifeless positions. Smoke, bits of armor, and tiny pieces of fire were carried on the breeze above the debris.

  She felt exhilarated. The bloodname was hers. She raised her arms in victory.

  "You have not won yet," said a voice from somewhere in the smoke of battle.

  "Aidan? Is it you?"

  He strode out of the smoke, step firm, manner confident, his smile annoyingly cheerful.

  "And so we meet again, Joanna."

  "Why are you here?"

  "You must fight me to win the melee."

  "Fight you, but why?"

  "We are the sole surviving MechWarriors."

  "What are you doing here?"

  "I am here to compete for the bloodname."

  "You already have your bloodname."

  "Now I want yours, the one you are trying to earn."

  "That is not fair. I deserve my chance."

  "Nothing is fair. That is the way of the Clan, quiaff, Joanna?"

  It was difficult to argue with the truth. "But you are dead, Aidan. You died in the fighting on Tukayyid."

  "That is correct. And you must fight me now.”

  “I will not."

  "Then you have failed. Again. You lose, nasty.”

  “You never called me nasty. That was Barnak." For a moment Aidan looked like Barnak, then he was Aidan again.

  "I will fight you then," she said.

  An assault rifle drifted upward from below and she grabbed it. Leaping off the high pile of 'Mechs, she floated to the ground and strode toward Aidan. As she approached him, his features began to change. His skin grayed and became metallic. His eyes lost their amiability and became hard, metallic. The shape of his face became angular, and metallic. He began to grow upward and outward. Soon he stood over her, a BattleMech, fully weaponed. He had become the Timber Wolf in which he had died. All his weaponry was now aimed at her.

  "That is not fair. I have only this rifle."

  "This is a melee, Joanna. Nothing is fair."

  "I know—that is the way of the Clans. Am I not the one who first drilled it into you?"

  She raised her rifle and began shooting at him, wildly. From deep inside the Timber Wolf that was Aidan, she heard him say, "I am sorry, Joanna." Then, he fired his weapons at her in a barrage, each direct hit forcing her backward. Then he raised one of his 'Mech's enormous feet. It became a dark cloud blotting out the sky above her, until Joanna could see no more, only the huge foot coming down straight at her, to crush her like a bug, to—

  And then she woke up.

  Sweat covered her body. For a moment, she could not tell the difference between sleeping and waking. A giant BattleMech resembling Aidan seemed a dark fog shape in the surrounding mist.

  She was outside her quarters, sleeping on the ground without covering, her head resting on an equipment pack. How had she gotten here? Had she lost hours or merely drunk too much and fallen asleep the way drunks did, abruptly and gracelessly?

  Excess of drinking was not common among Clan warriors. Because their lives were so controlled, they rarely used stimulants. They had been taught, after all, that being a warrior was stimulant enough. Nevertheless, over the years Joanna had developed a taste for strong wine and a peculiar Clan drink known as a fusionnaire. In spite of the ache in her head, she could have used one of those high-powered concoctions right now.

  As she struggled to her feet, her legs as stiff as if they really had slogged through dense underbrush, she thought of the new MechWarriors, the ones who had finally been sent as replacements for the brave warriors lost on Tukayyid. They were not like her, but then who was? More important, they were not like any MechWarriors she had ever known. They were a new breed, restless with the truce, vicious in contrived raids, close-ranked in their behavior.

  They looked like Clan warriors right enough, yet in a strange way that Joanna could not quite define they were different.

  I hate them, she thought.

  Aidan seemed to invade her mind. She heard his voice saying, "But you hate everyone, Joanna." And she very nearly said aloud, "Almost everyone, yes."

  1

  Western Training Zone Pattersen, Sudeten

  Jade Falcon Occupation Zone

  1 July 3057

  "What do you mean, they don't want to serve with us?" Joanna demanded.

  As she spoke the question, her eyes widened, increasing the fierceness of her ever-angry look. The eyes had almost no color in them, were just the lightest shade of gray in certain lights, a gray that made artillery comparisons appropriate.

  "I mean, they do not want to serve with us," Star Commander Horse said laconically. "Also, Star Captain Joanna, I did not use the contraction." His half-smile, used increasingly these days as bad times verified his amused and bemused view of all things, irritated Joanna.

  "That is correct. I am the one who used a contraction. I needed to. Sometimes you need to."

  "You know me. I wouldn't argue that."

  "You—oh, I see. Horse, your need for sarcasm outweighs anything sensible."

  "Sorry, Captain."

  The back of Horse's right hand ran along the line of his chin, as if searching for his recently shaved-off whiskers. In the weeks since he had executed the beard, Joanna had told him at least a hundred times that he looked years older. Though most warriors would have hated hearing that because remarks about aging were considered insults within the Clans, Horse only laughed.

  With them was MechWarrior Diana, also a member of Joanna's Star. The three veteran Clan Jade Falcon warriors were lounging on a hillside, enjoying a rare pleasant day on the unpleasant world of Sudeten. Most days on this planet were wintry with strong winds, but today the breeze was mild and the temperature cool without requiring cold-weather outfits. The three warriors were dressed in wrinkled battle fatigues, with all indications of rank removed. Rank was not emphasized in the truce zones.

  Joanna and Horse sat on the hillside's short spiky grass, leaning back on their elbows. Diana sat propped against a tree. The tree bark was hard and sharp, but she barely noticed its roughness.

  About a half-kilometer from the foot of the hill lay the remains of a Battlemech factory an
d supply depot that had been turned into a salvage yard. Both the building and the depot had been severely damaged, rendered useless by warfare. The factory walls still stood, scorched and scarred by a devastating attack. Most of the roof was still there, too, though pitted with jagged holes. But even from this distance they could see that the factory was a shell. The windows were broken, with debris poking through the shattered panes.

  The scene was like a boneyard whose graves had all been opened and the corpses scattered everywhere. These corpses were, of course, metal ones. Pieces of BattleMechs were mixed together just like bones piled on a battlefield, not a single torso with a limb still intact. Metal arms and legs intertwined and entangled unnaturally. Heads were mixed in among the piles or lay on the ground, upside down, or on their sides, or straight up as if the rest of them might still be buried, an archaeological fragment of a mighty king's statue. Horse had recently read an ancient poem about a monument to an ancient king, also a giant head in a desolate area, and had suggested the comparison to the others, who hadn't a clue to what he might be talking about. Within the mounds of the 'Mech graveyard were also the crushed remains of many vehicles.

  The breeze rattled the 'Mech pieces. On some days, when the wind was fierce, the lighter fragments would bounce and skid across the ground, often banging against the 'Mech limbs or the walls of the factory.

  Joanna thought the ruins seemed to scream at them that their lives were like such debris, scattered about a desolate landscape. Once they had been warriors wholly devoted to war, to the Clan invasion and its many battles. Jade Falcon warriors, each one skilled and brave. Now, with the uneasy fifteen-year-truce between the Clans and the Inner Sphere, they were idle, mere garrison troops with a few duties on insignificant planets. Like most other Clan warriors, they were a bit edgy, hungry for tasks worthy of their fierce military training.

  Staring back at Horse, Joanna took a deep breath to calm herself. "Again, do they say why they do not, do not, wish to serve with us?" Her repetition was meant to emphasize her elimination of the contraction.