BattleTech

by Loren L. Coleman

  He figured out almost immediately that an easy way to do that would be to volunteer for the Yule patrol. The day was normally split up into three-hour watches, with one BattleMech being assigned to a different sector. Nelson signed himself up for two patrols back to back and even ended up accepting another. Since his family was hundreds of light years away on Kooken’s Pleasure Pit, he had no one to celebrate with anyway, so taking duty was easy for him.

  More important to him, though, was the chance it gave him to log some serious hours in a Phoenix Hawk. From the time he was a young boy he had found the very name of that ’Mech magical. He had read countless stories of battles in which the humanoid BattleMechs had performed heroically. The large laser held in the right hand provided long-range firepower, while the medium lasers mounted in each arm were good closer in. The Phoenix Hawk had twin 12.5mm machine guns in each arm for keeping infantry and light vehicles suppressed.

  The main thing that had intrigued Nelson about the Phoenix Hawk was its jump jets, which allowed the machine to make crucial tactical advances and retreats during battles. If not for those jets, Davion Phoenix Hawks would have fallen to Liao Crusaders at Lee II and the Liao invasion would never have been turned back.

  Nelson marched his Phoenix Hawk on through Alpha sector. The weather had turned cold and a light dusting of snow covered the whole area. “Christmas card weather,” he had remarked to Lt. Lukens when Lukens checked him out on the Phoenix Hawk. “When you’re at home in front of the fireplace, I’ll be out here enjoying the view.”

  Lukens had not offered to change places with him, which didn’t surprise Nelson at all. Even though the Phoenix Hawk had been in Lukens’ family for two generations—his grandfather had taken it as a prize in the battle for Loric in 2971—Lukens preferred to spend the time at home with his bride of three months. Having seen the Leutnant’s wife, Nelson couldn’t fault the man’s choice of holiday diversion.

  Nelson focused again on the viewscreen and saw nothing across the long, snow-choked meadow. He had been told that there was really nothing for him to worry about while on patrol. If House Marik was going to mount an assault they would spend four days coming in from the jump point around the sun, so there would be ample warning about the invasion.

  “Of course, he could face Anti-Nick and the Elves from Hell,” Bronson, his Tech, had chided Lukens. “He’d love to find Cadet Geist here in your Phoenix Hawk and all alone.”

  Tom Lukens shook his head. “Not likely.”

  Nelson raised an eyebrow. “Anti-Nick?”

  Bronson smiled. “Yeah, there’s a group of bandits who have, from time to time, gone raiding on Christmas. Response time is low, lots of loot can be had. They’re two Locusts and a Jenner centered up around a BattleMaster. A-Nick is the BattleMaster’s pilot. He speaks in rhyming couplets—a real nutcase. They have mostly raided far to the south, but…”

  Lukens waved Bronson’s concern away. “Some folks think they’ll head north because the Fourteenth Lyran Guards are gone and the bank over in Harrison became a Commonwealth depository. They’d be nuts to try anything around the base here.”

  Nelson smiled. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled. If I see them, I’ll send out an alarm.”

  “Good, we’ll all be ready to respond. If you see them, stay away from Anti-Nick and just track them. Good intel is better than a dead ’Mech.” Lukens gave Nelson a friendly shot in the arm. “Especially when that ’Mech is my ’Mech.”

  “Message received and understood, sir.”

  Nelson glanced at the heat monitor. It was still down in the cool range, which he expected given the cold outside. He knew that in combat the jump jets, weapons and maneuvering would cause heat to build up quickly. The targeting computer would begin to go. It would also cut his speed and, if it was high enough, could cook off machine gun ammo and even shut down his whole ’Mech.

  “Shut down Lt. Lukens’ BattleMech, you mean,” he mumbled to himself. He keyed the radio in his heavy neurohelmet. “Blitzen here. Sector Alpha is clear.”

  “North Pole to Blitzen, roger. Having fun out there, Cadet Geist?”

  Nelson recognized the voice on the radio. “Bronson, you lose at poker with the CommTechs again? Must have been a hell of a hand to bet the third watch on Christmas on it.”

  “My full boat sank. Besides, gets me out of the house so my mother-in-law can’t tell me I’m a layabout.”

  Nelson laughed. “So, was Santa good to you?”

  “Not bad. I got a new set of actuator wrenches. If Santa gives you the ’Mech you were hoping for, I can fix it.”

  “No such luck, Bronson. Santa couldn’t fit it on his sleigh.”

  “Next year, kid. You’re a good pilot, they’ll find you something when you leave the ‘Ring.”

  “Thanks, Bronson. I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m always right, Cadet. You should have let me fix you up with that old hangar door. You could just head up into the mountains and do some snowboarding on that ‘Hawk.”

  “Too much egg-nog isn’t good for you, Bronson.”

  “Hey, there’s enough snow out there for it.”

  “I’m sure the ski tourists will be happy. Me, I’m just working like you. Blitzen out.”

  Nelson cut the radio link and started down the length of the meadow. At its longest point it led into a hilly valley in the foothills of the Thunderbird Mountains. The valley sides became steep and a hundred meters up from the plain where he marched, dark pine forests grew thickly. Because the region on Kooken’s Pleasure Pit where Nelson grew up was arid, he was not used to tall pines and tangled forest depths. They made him uneasy and as the dying sun lengthened the shadows, he began to feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

  C’mon, Nelson, it’s a Christmas Card. Be a good boy, check it out and Santa will reward you. He smiled and shook his head. Unlike many other Cadets at the Nagelring, he had no family ’Mech waiting for him upon graduation. He’d get whatever the Lyran Commonwealth gave him, if they assigned him to a line unit. Guys with ’Mechs got those choice slots, whereas the Dispossessed or, like him, unpossessed warriors got to drive a desk until a machine opened up.

  He took another long look at the valley. It’s still clear, Nelson. Nothing here to worry about. He pushed his fears aside and headed into the valley. You’re in a forty-five ton war machine. Nothing can bother you in this thing.

  Something moved ahead of him and stepped clear of the forest. Nothing but a bigger BattleMech. Nelson squinted out through the viewscreen. That’s a BattleMaster!

  Nelson keyed his radio to a short range, wide-beam broadcast. “Please identify yourself. You are on restricted territory.”

  “Ho ho ho, you’ll die in the snow!”

  Nelson tapped the side of his neurohelmet. “This is not the time for games. Identify yourself.” As he spoke, Nelson dropped his crosshairs on the humanoid ’Mech. Range is long enough for the large laser to be my best bet.

  “Anti-Nick am I. Prepare to die.”

  Hmmm, I may be a bad poet, but apparently I’m not the worst poet around. Nelson hit the firing stud on the joystick in his right hand. The pistol-like large laser in the Phoenix Hawk’s right hand ignited a ruby energy beam that lanced into the BattleMaster’s chest. A half a ton of aligned crystal steel armor ran in steaming rivulets over the BattleMech’s breast. It melted through the snow, raising vapor columns that twisted around the BattleMaster.

  The BattleMaster fired back with the PPC mounted in its right arm. The firing coils glowed an unholy blue seconds before the particle beam shot out. It crackled through the cold air, and despite missing the Phoenix Hawk, its hellish heat warmed the ’Mech’s cockpit. The azure beam exploded a leafless tree, scattering burning wooden fragments to oppose the dusk.

  Move or die, Nelson, he might not miss the next time. He punched both feet down on the jump jet pedals and braced himself. Twin tongues of silver flame boosted the ’Mech into the air. Scanning his holographic display for a landing, he
got a good look at the battlefield and his stomach began to fold in on itself. This is not good at all.

  Down on the ground the pair of Locusts that worked with Anti-Nick started running from cover in the woods to his right. Their bobbing gait, caused because of the birdlike configuration of their legs, made them look funny and almost toy-like from his height. But they aren’t toys. The medium lasers they sported were deadly and they could hem him in and herd him toward their large companion, the way dogs coursed deer to hunters.

  He came down as far from the enemy as he could get, which put him on the edge of the upslope woods on the left. “Blitzen here, I have Anti-Nick and his elves.”

  “Sure, kid. Funny.”

  “North Pole, I’m not kidding. Sector Alpha, T-bird foothills.” Nelson saw his large laser come back into service. If the Locusts are here, where in hell is that Jenner?

  Out front he saw his ’Mech’s shadow start long, then grow short as the Jenner jetted up from within the forest. Without conscious thought—thanks to endless drills at the Nagelring—Nelson stepped the Phoenix Hawk backward. He painted the Jenner with his crosshairs and kept the cross tracking it as the flying ’Mech overshot its target.

  No one jumps on my head! Nelson squinted, watching the range finder figures fall. You’re mine now. Keeping the enemy impaled on his sights, he hit two triggers and a firing stud.

  The large laser skewered the Jenner with a ruby spike. Armor shards exploded from the ungainly ’Mech’s left side. The two medium lasers Nelson had also triggered jabbed their red beams through the gaping hole the larger laser had opened up. Smoke poured from the wound and a secondary explosion spat out chunks of the ’Mech’s titanium steel skeleton.

  The jump jet mounted on the ’Mech’s left side flared and died. The other two jump jets sputtered on for a moment and then died as well, leaving the Jenner airborne and slowly rotating to the left. The Jenner continued spinning as it accelerated, then it slammed into the ground on its left shoulder. One leg telescoped into the torso, but the left one snapped forward and sheared clean off.

  As the left leg bounced away from the wreckage, Nelson blinked and stared at it. I got it! I got it! Years of drilling might have given him the skills, but all the simulations in the world couldn’t match actual combat. The dryness in his mouth, the twisting in his stomach, the desire to see someone emerge from the wrecked ’Mech—none of that came from war games.

  It’s not stories anymore, Nelson. This is real and real serious.

  Swallowing hard, he keyed his radio. “Bronson, I got the Jenner.”

  “Sure, kid.”

  A keening whine rattled through the speakers in Nelson’s neurohelmet. “This is no game, my honor you defame. Phoenix Hawk, you are mine to kill, which I now vow to do, I will.”

  “Cadet, if this is your idea of a joke…”

  “Anything but, Bronson. Get me some help, will you?” Nelson stilled the shivers running through him. “I don’t like the odds here.”

  “They’ll be worse if you get the Leutnant’s ’Mech hammered.” Tension flooded through Bronson’s voice. “Putting out the call. ETA twenty minutes. Think you can last that long?”

  Down below him, in the valley, the two Locusts moved off and headed in toward Harrison and the bank. While he took some heart in the idea that he would only have to face one BattleMech, the fact that it was a BattleMaster killed any hope. The BattleMaster outmassed him by forty tons, had three times as many medium lasers as he did and had short-range missiles in addition to its particle projector cannon. He didn’t even want to think about the differences in armor between the two ’Mechs.

  “Maybe I can, but I’m betting your new spanners will get a great workout fixing this ’Mech if I do.” He took a deep breath, then nodded. “The Locusts are headed for the bank. Stop them, will you?”

  “Screw the bank, kid, or do you still have your Christmas Club account there?”

  “Something like that. Do it, Bronson.”

  “Roger that.”

  Nelson tried to figure out if he had any advantages as he started his Phoenix Hawk back into the woods. He knew the cover would help conceal him, making him harder to hit. The BattleMaster’s line of attack was uphill, which would also help. He had a sneaking suspicion, given their first exchange, that he was a better shot, but the BattleMaster’s array of weapons gave Nick more chances to get lucky.

  He searched his mind for all the technical data he’d memorized, searching for anything that might help him. The PPC has a minimum effective range. Maybe I can use that… Nelson peered out through the picket-line of trees between him and the meadow. If we go toe to toe, I’m done.

  The BattleMaster’s long confident strides through the meadow did nothing to set visions of sugar-plums dancing in Nelson’s head. Snow shot up and out from in front of its massive feet, dusted the ’Mech and settled in clouds on the its backtrail. As nasty as he knew the machine to be, the light frosting of snow and the way it moved made it seem grand and almost benign. He couldn’t help but admire the machine.

  Then the BattleMaster made a sharp parade turn left and headed straight in at him.

  “Spoiling for a fight, on what should be a silent night!” Nelson shuddered as he realized he was talking like his foe, then started tracking him with the crosshairs. “If you’re going to give me the shots, I’m going to take them.” At range he triggered the large laser and prayed for a Christmas present.

  The ruby beam nailed the center of the ’Mech’s chest. Sheets of armor, half-fluid and glowing warmly, spun away into the dim twilight. Nelson looked in vain for the same sort of critical opening his large laser had made in the Jenner, but he saw none. That thing’s got a lot more armor for me to burn through!

  The BattleMaster’s PPC came up and swung in his direction. The azure fork of pseudo-lightning it spat out threaded its way through the trees and savaged the Phoenix Hawk’s left arm. Armor shards clattered off the cockpit canopy and ricocheted into the darkness. Nelson’s damage monitor reported the armor had been stripped clean off that limb. One more shot there and the whole arm is gone, along with a medium laser and a machine gun. That would pretty much ruin my day.

  The BattleMaster charged forward, coming in at the Phoenix Hawk at full speed. The fourteen-meter tall war machine battered trees aside, snapping their trunks as if they were tinder. Showers of snow poured down, reducing the BattleMaster to a grey shadow in a blizzard, but a shadow that always came closer, relentless and implacable.

  It seemed for a moment to Nelson that Anti-Nick wanted to physically grapple with him and tear his ’Mech apart. Aside from the fact that Leutnant Lukens would have frowned on having his ’Mech broken that way, Nelson had no intention of letting that happen. In that sort of fight, his chances of survival would have been the same in or out of the ’Mech, so discretion definitely seemed the better part of valor.

  He’s a bad shot and… Nelson slowly grinned. He’s a worse tactician.

  As the assault ’Mech closed, Nelson stomped down on the jump jets. He launched his ’Mech skyward, but pulled his feet off the pedals almost instantly, abbreviating his flight. He grounded the Phoenix Hawk behind the BattleMaster and turned, giving him a clean shot at the BattleMaster’s pristine back armor. I’ll just die if I miss at this range.

  The large laser’s beam slashed a huge gash in the BattleMaster’s rear armor but failed to breach it. The twin medium lasers followed up on that damage, widening the gash and vaporizing armor. The reddish beams filled the center of the assault ’Mech with fire and Nelson saw internal structures melt in the backglow. He waited for secondary explosions or even a little shudder, showing he’d done serious damage, but got nothing.

  The BattleMaster never even made an attempt at turning around to face him. The two rear-facing lasers oriented on the Phoenix Hawk and returned fire. One bubbled away armor on the Phoenix Hawk’s right thigh, reducing its protection by a third. The other beam drilled into the Phoenix Hawk’s left breast and carved
a crescent scar into its armor.

  Heat swirled up through the cockpit and sweat beaded on Nelson’s exposed flesh. Between jumping and triggering three weapons, he’d pushed the heat up to sixty percent of maximum capacity. His crosshairs started tracking poorly and he knew that his movement had been cut down. If I don’t get out of here, though, I’ll have more problems than roasting to death.

  As the BattleMaster started to come around, Nelson hit the jump jets and launched himself skyward. Despite the added heat rushing up into his cockpit, he pushed the burn and sailed over the BattleMaster’s head and on into the woods. He cut the jets and braced himself for a rough landing.

  He came down hard. Trees snapped in half and toppled over, but somehow he managed to keep the ’Mech upright. The snow that had laden the tree branches sheeted down over him, but he knew it would give him no cover. The heat did begin to head back down into green ranges, which meant he had his mobility back. And I’m going to have to use that as best I can.

  The whole situation resolved itself very quickly and easily in his mind. He was playing for time. If his reinforcements intercepted the Locusts, Anti-Nick would break things off and retreat. Survival was the key and the further along he could draw the BattleMaster, the greater the chances that the reinforcements would put an end to him once and for all.

  There was no question in Nelson’s mind that he was playing a very dangerous game. Reaching out with his left hand, he punched up a geographical survey map of the area on his auxiliary monitor and his sensors painted the oncoming BattleMaster onto it. Nelson kicked the Phoenix Hawk into motion, drawing his enemy away from Harrison and up into the mountains.

  They entered into an absurd cat and mouse contest. Nelson risked the PPC by staying at longer ranges, but that kept him free of damage from the missiles and smaller weapons. His large laser did light up the woods, burning holes through the pine canopy. Rarely hit his foe, but often enough he lit a tree on fire. If nothing else it will be easy for them to find us.