I am Jade Falcon

by Robert Thurston

  Continuing to stagger, she performed a particularly dramatic whirl and wobbled her legs so that they looked about to collapse—a move designed to keep the gloves out of sight. She looked down at them briefly. The metal studs were arranged into a Jade Falcon star. Each stud was pointed and hard.

  She pulled the gloves on and turned around to see her two attackers moving in for the kill. Letting her arms hang limply so they would not notice the gloves, Joanna peered at Castilla and Cholas through drooping eyelids. The more she got into the sham, the more effects she was able to create. Seen through swinging strands of her wet hair, her eyes no doubt effectively feigned exhaustion.

  The downpour was getting heavier.

  "This reminds me of our Trial, Castilla." There was something resembling affection in Cholas' voice. "When we worked so well together to—"

  "You two qualified together," Joanna said, her voice pretending weakness. Well, some of the weakness was pretense, at least.

  "Yes. Castilla saved me when she—"

  "Spare me the folk tale." Joanna's voice was stronger as she eased out of her fake slouch. "I knew you could not qualify completely on your own, Cholas."

  Startling them both, Joanna gave her battle scream and rushed straight for them. Cholas flinched as she came at him, but then she veered to her right instead to confront her weaker foe first.

  She pushed Castilla back against the side of the 'Mech foot before hitting her. The first blow of the studded gloves ripped across Castilla's face and left a long, bleeding cut. The second collapsed Castilla's stomach and left her bent over, choking. A strong leg sweep, punishing Castilla's injured leg, sent the young warrior sliding down to the muddy ground.

  Cholas jumped on Joanna's back and tried to encircle her neck with his arm. The tactic might have worked, but the clothes of both warriors were slippery from the rain. Besides, Joanna was now strengthened by a rage that let her flip Cholas off and throw him against the 'Mech leg, which tottered from the impact. As Cholas pushed away from it, it began to sway back and forth above them.

  Joanna moved in on Cholas, each blow she delivered making effective contact with his face or body. Each blow also either drew blood or was so painful that his face was soon contorted in agony. The last blows sent him crashing against the 'Mech leg, his head bouncing off it with a loud clang. The leg rocked back and forth more, creaking and making that odd screech so common to BattleMechs.

  His eyes dazed, Cholas ran under the leg and fell to the ground on its other side. His shoulder slammed into a puddle so hard that the impact splashed out most of the water there. Joanna started after him, but then a heavy downpour of water falling on her head made her look up. She realized that the tottering leg had reached the point of no return and was about to fall.

  Castilla, on her knees beside the 'Mech foot, was still groggy. She seemed unaware of the movement of the leg, whose foot was about to fall directly on her.

  Running over to Castilla, Joanna reached down and grabbed her legs, then quickly dragged her body away. The 'Mech foot came crashing down, just centimeters from Castilla's head.

  Dropping Castilla's legs, Joanna pitched backward, exhausted. She could see the star pattern on her gloves. Some of the metal stars had drops of blood on them still, but the rain was quickly washing them clean.

  She could fight no longer. If either of these eyasses had anything left in them, they could beat her now. She was like that fallen 'Mech leg. She would topple over at the slightest touch.

  Pulling off the gloves, she stared down at Castilla, whose eyes were open. The younger MechWarrior winced several times at the rain hitting her face, but refused to turn her head away from it.

  "You should have left me there. I do not want to be indebted to you."

  "No debt, Castilla. Quiaff?"

  "But—"

  "Quiaff?"

  "Aff."

  "That was too weak, insincere. Quiaff?”

  “AFF!"

  Snapping her gloves militarily against her thigh, Joanna walked over to the prone Cholas. He was conscious. Seeing her, he tried to rise to a battle stance, but he could barely move.

  "Do not bother, Cholas. This honor duel is over. I win, quiaff?”

  “Well ..."

  These fools are hard to convince.

  "QUIAFF?"

  "Aff"

  Joanna moved a couple of steps away. The rain was letting up. Like her, the storm had no more fight in it.

  "Those gloves, they are not a fair weapon," Cholas muttered.

  "Who said they were a weapon?”

  “But you—"

  "Quit your whining, Cholas. I wore the gloves, you had the pistol. Cancels out, quiaff? Anyway, what warrior's manual lists gloves as weapons?"

  "On your hands, they—"

  "You are ridiculous. These gloves are proper warrior issue for a cold-weather planet.”

  “But the studs—"

  "The studs are garish warrior decoration, like your foolish sibko bands. Just fashion, Cholas, just fashion."

  Joanna slapped the gloves fiercely against her thigh, then walked with surprising energy out of the improvised Circle of Equals.

  6

  Falcon Guard Headquarters

  Pattersen, Sudeten

  Jade Falcon Occupation Zone

  1 July 3057

  There was something wrong with Star Colonel Ravill Pryde's face, Joanna thought. It did not look like the face of a real person, but reminded her of a hastily sketched drawing.

  The cheekbones. It must be the damn cheekbones. They are too high in the face, too pointed. Pointed like sheer cliffs. Jutting out too far. Touch them, you could cut yourself. They make his eyes too narrow, turn them into caves behind the cliffs. Slitted, plunging the eyelids downward, but not quite hiding the eyes, which stare out like laser rays, am-bushers hiding in the caves. They are mean eyes. I should like mean eyes—they are tough eyes, warrior eyes. But these scare me. They are like the eyes of some demon. And that high forehead makes them seem all the smaller, all the narrower. His hair, cut so close, is just enough to keep him from being bald. His mouth is too friendly. Too much smile, too many teeth. White teeth. Yet the effect of the smile is to take attention away from the eyes' secrets.

  What really surprised her was the man's body. Not only was he shorter than most warriors, he was abysmally thin. The standard, short-sleeved uniform of the warrior displayed bony arms whose veins stood out. The swooping Jade Falcon on his unit insignia looked larger than it should, although it had to be the same size worn by the other Falcon Guard warriors in the room.

  Abnormally thick tufts of chest hair stuck out from the open neck of his shirt. If there was anything Joanna especially hated on a male warrior, it was heavy chest hair. It was ugly and sometimes smelled bad. Ravill Pryde's boots were so shiny, their light seemed like the source rather than the reflection.

  As he addressed the warriors assembled in the sparsely furnished wardroom, he moved among them gracefully. A lot about Ravill Pryde was graceful. His walk, his gestures, the way he tilted his head and leaned slightly forward when listening to another. He did most of the talking, though, and the warriors, newcomers and veterans alike, seemed rapt by his words.

  Joanna, leaning against a wardroom table, shifted uncomfortably and wondered if anyone else in the room could see through Ravill Pryde's act, or was she the only one? If so, did that made her mistaken? Had she become so enmired in her misanthropy that no one new could impress her?

  Or maybe was she the only one who saw clearly.

  To her, Ravill Pryde was a pompous, fraudulent little weasel. And to Joanna, weasels had no place among the fierce, proud blood of Clan Jade Falcon. The universe suddenly seemed smaller.

  Ravill Pryde stopped in front of the young warriors, four of the five Joanna had fought and eight others. Two of them were in her own Star. Although prone to a good deal of secret snickering, they had been performing their assigned duties adequately. And what was adequate for Joanna was arduous compa
red to what the other Star officers asked.

  At the forefront of the group were Cholas and Castilla, the effects of the honor duel still glaringly evident on them. Ronan and Haline stayed in the background, hiding their bruises. Fredrich was in the garrison infirmary with two broken legs.

  In addition to the cuts Joanna had inflicted, both Castilla and Cholas' faces were severely bruised. Castilla's left eye was swollen shut. Both young warriors struggled to stand upright, but the posture was obviously painful for them.

  Ravill Pryde put a hand on the shoulder of each one. "I see we have a pair of real warriors here, their courage showing in their wounds."

  Cholas and Castilla both smiled, the distortion of Castilla's smile revealing her pain.

  "I have been briefed on the honor duel. You should have won, quiaff?"

  "Aff," replied Cholas, glaring past Ravill Pryde at Joanna.

  "Well, a lesson or two learned in an honor duel can be valiancy later, even when you lose. Just continue to conduct yourself with proper Jade Falcon daring and courage. Now that I am here, I expect to see your skills, and the skills of all Falcon Guards, rise to higher levels, quiaff?"

  Aff," Castilla and Cholas said together. Others among the young warriors nodded agreement.

  Joanna, grunting scornfully, looked away. Her grunt was a bit too loud, and it caught the attention of Ravill Pryde. He looked over his shoulder at her.

  "You have a comment, Star Captain Joanna?"

  "None at all."

  "You were merely clearing your throat?”

  “Aff."

  Detecting something in her voice, Ravill Pryde scowled briefly, then turned his attention back to the young warriors.

  "Well, I am the newcomer in this room. Like all Jade Falcon warriors, it is my duty to prove myself to you, not yours to prove yourselves to me."

  What does he mean by that? Nobody has to prove anything to anybody else in a wardroom!

  Joanna leaned toward Horse and whispered, "Is this stravag full of hot air or what?"

  Horse shrugged. "He seems full of something."

  Cholas spoke up, as if on a staged cue. "We are all anxious to hear about your Trial of Position, Star Colonel Pryde."

  Ravill Pryde was conspicuously pleased by the question. Before speaking again, he surveyed the entire room except for seeming to skip conspicuously over Joanna.

  "How much time have we? Do you really want to hear?"

  All of the young warriors nodded eagerly. The veterans displayed, as befitting oldtimers, less emotion, but most indicated interest. Joanna glanced theatrically at her chronometer, the exaggerated gesture greatly amusing Diana and Horse.

  Ravill Pryde missed the gesture, but did perceive the others' reactions. He walked over to Horse and Diana. "I enjoy jokes. How about letting me in on this one?"

  "No joke," Diana improvised quickly. "We are ... just a cheerful and happy pair of warriors." Her subsequent smile would have charmed anyone. Almost anyone. Ravill Pryde frowned.

  "You are both freeborn. To do as well as you have— especially you, Commander Horse, as a warrior and as Aidan Pryde's chief ally—you must be quite brave. I am glad to serve with you. Let me remind you, though, that you are freeborn and must abide by the rules and customs of caste. I do not intend to allow any trueborn to be insulted in any way by any freeborn, quiaff?"

  Joanna wanted to leap at Ravill Pryde's back, but instead she said calmly, "Who died and made you Khan, Star Colonel?"

  He spun around to face her. There was anger in his eyes, but he kept his voice in control. "I am no Khan, but I am a trueborn warrior and therefore—"

  "And I am also trueborn, but that does not mean I may insult Jade Falcon warriors at will."

  "Insult whom? Them? How did I insult them? I merely pointed out they were freeborn and—"

  Some red had come into his face, but the blades of his cheekbones were drained and white, almost as though freshly sharpened.

  "This is not some safe little homeworld," Joanna said, "where rules and customs are laid out simply. We are warriors here, and we have fought together in the invasion, in war, and we know rules and customs do not always apply. You will learn that, Ravill Pryde. For now, take it from me, we have proven ourselves."

  The young warriors began to shout out protests, and Cholas stepped forward. "Star Colonel Pryde has proven himself in his Trial, entering service as a Clan warrior with the rank of full Star Captain."

  Joanna pointedly ignored Cholas. "I give you full credit for your achievement, Ravill Pryde. But that does not mean—"

  "And he has a bloodname," Castilla shouted. "Match that, Star Captain Joanna." Joanna was ready to battle the injured Castilla all over again, but Horse held her back. At this moment he was perhaps the only one in the wardroom strong enough to do so.

  "I choose not to press this issue," Ravill Pryde said. "There will be time for us to—to resolve this matter later. For now, I apologize if I have offended any warrior in the room, even a freeborn one. It is not my intent to open wounds. Yet, anyway."

  Ravill Pryde stared into Joanna's eyes for a moment. Neither gave way. He returned his attention to his audience, and Horse gestured Joanna to a chair, where she reluctantly settled.

  "You wished to hear about my Trial," Ravill Pryde said, and again the young warriors called and shouted enthusiastically. Even the veterans edged in closer so as not to miss a word.

  Ravill Pryde put one of his legs on a chair. After carefully straightening out the crease of his trousers, he began.

  "I do not think anyone had any doubts that I would succeed in my Trial of Position."

  It's clear you had no doubts, Joanna thought.

  "But I also knew it would be a waste for me to qualify only at the Mech Warrior rank. Do not take that as a criticism of your own achievements, my fellow warriors. It was just that, well, I felt a sense of destiny, something perhaps unusual for a cadet. Most of my sibkin, I observed, concentrated only on winning the Trial. I looked beyond. In that respect, I suspect—if you will realize that my comparison is made in all humility—I was like the revered Aidan Pryde."

  "Praise Aidan Pryde," chanted several of the young warriors. Some of the veterans, however, exchanged puzzled glances.

  Who does he think he is? He has not fought a major battle, and he compares himself with Aidan? And he used the name just to invoke that ritual response, the stravag!

  "My comparison of myself to the revered Aidan Pryde is not casual, my dear companions. I think ... I think that, in a way, I was taken over by his young spirit during the Trial itself. You look puzzled. How can that be? You have done some mental calculations and realized I could not possibly have styled myself after him, since he had not yet performed so heroically on Tukayyid, and his name was still unknown back in the homeworlds, and it was long before his genetic legacy was accepted for the gene pool. How, you ask rightly, could the spirit of a warrior still alive have inspired me so? "But recall that I said the young Aidan Pryde. In fact, I had never so much as heard the hero's name when I came to my Trial. Nevertheless, he was the protagonist of a longstanding Crash Camp legend. Only later, after Aidan Pryde's valiantness was known, did we discover that he was the daring young man of the legend. In his first Trial of Position Aidan Pryde risked a daring maneuver, jumping his 'Mech over his three opponents and trying to defeat them all. He nearly succeeded but was defeated by the treachery of his Trial-mate, who entered the melee caused by his own unique strategy and shot him down to win her own Trial. I understand the Trial-mate achieved two kills and became a Star Commander."

  That is correct. And it was a legitimate maneuver on Marthe Pryde's part. I always thought Aidan deserved it, and maybe became a better warrior because of it. He suffered, yes, had to pose as a freeborn for many years—but that is probably part of this stravag's damn "legend." I hope Marthe Pryde finds out he calls her treacherous.

  "The Aidan Pryde strategy was, of course, one of many falconer stories. The falconers recounted it as a warn
ing not to overreach, even though some of us took it differently. Well, not surprisingly, me being a Jade Falcon warrior, after all, the story inspired me. I knew, knew inside, that I had to attempt a similar strategy."

  "But you risked failing altogether, like Aidan Pryde did," MechWarrior Ronan said. For a moment, Ravill Pryde scowled. Obviously he did not like being interrupted.

  "Yes, I did that. I risked all. Risk is a characteristic I share with the revered Aidan Pryde."

  "Praise Aidan Pryde."

  Joanna felt nauseous. And she could not help but think Aidan would have hated such blind hero worship.

  "By the day of my Trial I knew what to do. It was necessary to correct the legendary strategy, to make it work."

  The more he described the Trial, the more expressive Ravill Pryde's thin arms became. He seemed to wave one arm or the other to emphasize each important detail. To Joanna he looked like a semaphore with sticks.

  He spent some time setting up his version of the Trial, telling his spellbound audience of the bleak and rugged terrain, the attacks of some freeborn trainees brought in just to make the Trial harder (he defeated every one he faced, of course), the climb up into the cockpit of his Timber Wolf. His Trial opponents soon appeared, in a tight line, just beyond a deep but narrow canyon.

  "Well, that canyon threw off my strategy a bit. It was narrow but just a bit too wide to step across, and I wished that my 'Mech could have been configured with jump jets, so I could switch to Aidan Pryde's original strategy. My Trial-mate's foes were also on the other side of the canyon, but there was a bridge where she was. While she could easily cross it, it would have been a waste of time for me and would have forced me into a confrontation with her Trial opponents. No, I had to play the hand given me.

  "Recall that I had given away some firepower in order to add the second Streak SRM. But that was all right. I intended to win, using only my PPCs and the SRMs. Immediately, as my first opponent 'Mech, an ominous Gargoyle, came forward, I saw the way. The Aidan Pryde strategy would work, I was certain, at least in the way I intended to adapt it."