Among the professional pilots, amateur opposition ’Mechs got divided into three general classes: Mutts, Iron Men, and Traps. Mutts occupied the lowest tier and almost always had been built on the chassis of a beat-up industrial ’Mech of some sort. They sported ceramic scales over part of the ’Mech, and might rely on corrugated tin elsewhere. Walter had even fought a few that relied on plywood. Their weaponry ran long on physical attacks, with a few affording lasers.
As a rule, they never outlived the Rabbit.
Iron Men got put together from legitimate BattleMech salvage, though little of it was combat quality. They often walked with a limp, or had limited weapon traverses. Their key drawback tended to be a lack of ammunition for missile launchers and projectile weapons. When the pilots could afford the weaponry, they opted for energy weapons and could do some damage.
Traps earned that sobriquet because they generally didn’t look like much until far too late. Their deadliness came from the skill of the pilot and some ersatz weapon that could deliver a devastating hit all at once. More often than not, TrapMechs belonged to someone who could afford the upkeep and were piloted by MechWarriors who had long military careers behind them.
Walter raced the Locust in toward a knot of three ’Mechs. He triggered all of his weapons, not aiming at specific targets, but going for a simple spread of damage. The medium laser stripped the armor off a black-and-red Iron Man, while the missiles scattered two Mutts. He sailed on through the detonation epicenter, juking left past another Iron Man, then headed out before beginning his turn to the right and plunge back into the center.
Chaos reigned in his wake. The Mutts triggered all their weapons, missing him completely but blasting each other. Green, which had stood off, pumped laser fire into the back of one Mutt, vaporizing all of the armor. Secondary explosions shook the ’Mech, then it sagged to the right and collapsed. Red-and-Black slashed with the chain saw, chewing up armor on a Mutt’s right hip. That Mutt stumbled left, then stitched machine gun fire through Red-and-Black’s left elbow.
And there’s the Trap.
A blue Iron Man—looking more like a Centurion than anything else—began to orbit the battlefield as Walter was doing, just offset by ninety degrees. As Walter came around to start his next dive to the center, Blue likewise turned inward. That ’Mech slowed slightly, triggered a laser shot that took Red-and-Black’s leg off at the knee, then shot in on a course that would let him get on Walter’s six.
Well now, let’s play. Walter headed in quickly, then goosed his speed to full for the last third of his run. He didn’t fire at all. He cut his ’Mech through everyone else’s shots, dodging here and there as might a matador amid a herd of bulls. Then, on the other side, he chopped the throttle back, spun around to the right, and tracked his weapons left.
And the Trap walked right into his fire. The medium laser seared a golden line from hip to shoulder on the Trap’s right flank. Half-melted blue armor scales sloughed off. Walter fired four SRMs, the majority of which hit. Two crushed the armor over Blue’s chest, while the other scraped scales over its right thigh.
The Trap pivoted and brought its right arm up. The forearm ended in a medium laser’s muzzle. Red light flashed. The beam raked its way across the Locust’s chest, all but stripping it of armor. The diagram on Walter’s secondary monitor went from dull green to bright red in a heartbeat.
Blue swung its left arm into line with Walter’s ’Mech. For the first time, Walter realized the ’Mech had a short muzzle underslung on the forearm. The brief glimpse suggested an autocannon, the bore of which looked disturbingly large. That could be real trouble.
Unfortunately for Blue, the green Iron Man’s pilot had noticed the demise of Red-and-Black. Green’s medium laser stabbed deep into the Trap’s chest. The thin layer of ceramic armor evaporated. Blue shook and listed to the left as the beam’s energy induced the onboard computers to kick the gyros out of phase.
The autocannon’s projectiles tracked just right of Walter’s ’Mech, peppering the ground with hard rubber spheres. But it wasn’t a single stream, as would be expected of such a weapon. It’s as if they loaded shotgun shells into the autocannon. The projectile spray churned the earth and caused another methane cannister to explode, but the Locust had drifted far enough past to avoid damage.
If combat engineers ever figure out how to do that with metal in a military round, it’s going to be devastating.
As if to prove that point, Green blasted a Mutt at point-blank range, obliterating the armor on its leg. The pilot swung Green’s right arm wide enough to shoot Blue, stripping the left arm of protection. The beam incinerated the elbow, dropping the lower half of the limb to the ground.
The first Mutt that had attacked Walter turned its trio of small lasers on Green. The narrow shafts of angry light plunged through melted armor on the Trap’s chest. The Trap stumbled on for a couple of steps, slowing quickly. Blue sparks repeatedly lit its hollow heart, and the crowd cheered. The lightning indicated the fusion engine’s magnetic shielding had been destroyed. On the battlefield, this would have resulted in a catastrophic failure that would consume the ’Mech, but here the light show and smoke marked the ’Mech as being out.
Walter did another pass through the middle of the battlefield, then swung wide to make a run on three Mutts on the periphery of the action. He traded shots with them, giving as good as he got, then he turned left again. The knot of ’Mechs at the center of the action had moved toward him, battling each other as they went, so he dashed in toward them, angling to pass behind them.
His strafing run blew armor off two Mutts, which proceeded to turn on each other. Walter then circled left and throttled back enough to let the pack chase him. A couple of Mutts moved toward the center again to cut him off. Walter dodged to the middle, sailing behind them. They came toward him, which brought them on a collision course with the pack racing after him. Both sides exchanged fire, armor flying and ’Mechs colliding, and then the survivors turned to continue the chase.
Walter could have dodged and weaved through the competition for well over thirty minutes, but the countdown timer on his command console had run down to single digits. He wasn’t required to finish the fight once time ran out, but management appreciated it when the crowd got a leisurely opportunity to settle wagers and buy beer before the next battle began.
Walter tightened his turn into a curl, and came to a stop. He faced the oncoming pack, weapons ready. He triggered a spray of missiles that dropped one Mutt and damaged another. His medium laser bored into the Mutt that had killed Green, clipping its right leg off at the hip. That left two Mutts, one painted in the colors of a local construction company, and the other in shades of pink and white for reasons Walter couldn’t fathom. The fact that it had hearts emblazoned on the flanks, and the legend “Daddy’s Lil MechWarrior” scrawled across the center torso didn’t provide any enlightenment. He really didn’t want to pick either one as the winner—ignoring it to drop the other—but it was time to end the battle.
Then the explosions shook the Locust.
The red-and-black Iron Man had gone down when it lost half a leg, but the pilot had managed to get it back up on a knee. While Walter was moving, the pilot didn’t have a chance in hell of hitting him, but a stationary target could hardly be missed. The half-legged ’Mech launched two SRMs that hit the Locust square in the chest. They blew the last shred of armor off, then one burst inside the chest cavity. The Locust shuddered and lurched to the side. Gyro hit!
Then Blue opened up. Blue had lost its heavy weapon, the medium laser, to the Trap. Its right arm, however, had two machine guns mounted on the forearm. Twin streams of projectiles ricocheted around in the Locust’s chest. Walter’s ’Mech shuddered, then dropped back and squatted on its haunches. It remained there for a heartbeat or two, then slowly sagged to the right.
Walter hung there in the command chair, secured by restraining straps. That didn’t go the way I expected.
&nbs
p; Though the downing of the Rabbit technically ended the fight, the Mutts and Iron Men pounded each other. The construction ’Mech killed Red-and-Black. Daddy’s Lil MechWarrior backshot the construction ’Mech, dropping it, and Blue finished it off. As the last Mutt dropped, an air-raid siren wailed to signal the end to the battle.
Cockpits cracked open, and pilots, generally laughing and smiling, crawled out to wave at the hovering drones.
“You might want to wait before you get out, Wallace.”
Walter pulled the sensor plugs from the front of his neurohelmet. “Why is that, Spurs?”
“Blue wasn’t supposed to win. Traeger’s a bit upset.”
“How much is ‘a bit’?”
“Aniki is talking him off the ledge, and Snorri says he’ll grind through ten. The latter seems to be doing the trick.”
“Okay, well, latch on the cockpit seems to be sticking…” Walter smiled. “Just let me know when it should get unstuck.”
Chapter Five
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Greater Harrison Regional Exposition
Solaris VII (The Game World)
Rahneshire, Lyran Commonwealth
7 September 3001
Sophia Litzau allowed herself a moment of relaxation as Walter hugged her. “This is exactly what I need.”
Walter hung on for a bit longer, the mint and musk scents of soap and shampoo mingling. “Phee, I wasn’t in any danger. The Rabbit never is.”
“I know that.” She pulled back a bit and straightened his jacket. “I’ve just missed you, truth be told. It’s been three weeks.”
“And two days, four hours.” Walter smiled, and her stomach fluttered. “Fact is, I didn’t expect to see you for another week. Is something wrong?”
“No, not at all.”
Walter cast a quick glance back over his shoulder. “So, it’s not me you came to see, but Spurs, to check how he’s getting on?”
“You think far too little of my regard for you, if you believe that’s the reason I’m here.” She arched an eyebrow at him and caught a flash of caution pass through his expression. She had discovered, in the year she’d known Walter de Mesnil, that he was something more than just a mercenary MechWarrior. He’d acted with loyalty and cunning that had, on numerous occasions, saved her and her brother from their enemies. He never said much about his background, but she didn’t need to know his history. His actions had revealed who he was, and his devotion to the Litzau family despite their diminished circumstances spoke to a nobility that the man worked hard to keep hidden.
For all his courage, competency, and mystery, however, Walter de Mesnil was a man. His capacity for dealing with emotions—especially as they concerned him—had its limitations. She had no doubt that he had affection for her, nor that it ran deeper than Walter allowed himself to imagine. But just hinting at that fact put him on guard.
If she’d wanted to reduce him to quaking, she’d simply have looked him in the eye, lowered her voice, and uttered the damning phrase, “We need to talk.” The bravery he’d shown while playing the Rabbit would vanish. His defenses would come up, and anxiety would tinge his tone of voice as well as his expression.
But I don’t want to do that. She gave him a playful smile. “The fact is that our guests decided they wanted to come down from the city to see how ’Mech battles are dealt with on a local basis.”
“They came down here to see me?”
“Well, in a manner of…”
Walter laughed. “They’re curious about Snorri and Aniki, the Lethal Twins.”
“That is not to say, Walter, that they don’t want to meet you, but…” Sophia shrugged. “We have fight promotion posters feeding through on all the screens, and while I like what Traeger has done for you as the ‘Mystery Mercenary,’ Aniki is really hard to ignore.”
“In or out of a ’Mech.”
Sophia’s eyes tightened. “It will sound horrible, but I have to ask: why is she interested in my brother?”
“That does sound horrible.”
“You know what I mean.”
Walter looped an arm over her shoulders. “It means he’s your little brother, and you still see him that way.”
She slipped her arm around his waist and relished his warmth. “That’s about me. What about her?”
“A lot of folks see her as a Valkyrie, and it’s more than her being a killer on the battlefield. They take all that and project onto her a warrior woman whom they want to conquer—sexually, at least. They think she’s hard and cold, and that distance makes her desirable. Most of the men who come onto her treat her as an object to be won, a trophy. So, they approach her the way they would have to in an arena, trying to break through her defenses.”
Walter shook his head. “What they’ve missed, because they see her as being her Traegerization, is that she’s entirely different than that. She started life on a farm. She’s raised livestock. She’s grown plants. She came from a big family. She is the sort of person who would nurture baby birds that fell out of the nest until they could learn to fly.”
She looked up at him. “So Ivan is a baby bird?”
“No, not really. Look, Spurs is largely defenseless. He never tries to make himself out to be more than he is. And, by the same token, he tries really hard to become more. When Traeger rejected him, that hurt, and Aniki picked up on that. She also picked up on how smart he is. Days between fights, he works with her and her brother on simulator scenarios. And Spurs is willing to take on almost any job, from sparring during practice rounds to fetching coffee. He’s gotten really good at learning what local places have the best food, no matter where we end up. Aniki seems to really like his honesty and work ethic—two things her prospective suitors don’t tend to have.”
As they talked, they wandered out of the MechWarrior tent and onto the fairgrounds. Sophia smiled at the bright lights and bold music. Happy children darted through the crowd. Couples, young and old, by themselves or in small groups, strolled at a leisurely place between sideshows and carnival games. While there were young men spending fortunes to win a prize for a lover, and people discreetly consuming fried foods and sugared treats they knew were bad for them, for the most part people seemed content to be themselves. They weren’t spending a lot of energy to put on a show for others; they were just enjoying themselves.
“I’m sorry to be acting the big sister, but I have to ask. Is she going to break his heart?”
Walter stopped and turned to face her. “If she does, it won’t be intentional. Look, unless Spurs is a lot sneakier than anyone I’ve ever had under my command, it’s all been fairly chaste. There’s no doubt there’s chemistry between them, and a bit of heat, but Spurs is circumspect. Traeger has made it clear that part of Aniki’s appeal is that she’s single, so everyone can fantasize. Moreover, the circuit season is almost over, and Simon has got some deals for fixed arena fights all set up. Snorri and Aniki have been training hard to make the best of those opportunities. While Spurs has been spending a lot of time with them helping out, there really aren’t enough hours in the day for all that plus serious bump and grind.”
She frowned. “Well…”
“What?”
“I think I’m glad, but also sad. Glad things haven’t gotten irrevocably serious…”
“…but sad they’re not…”
“Really, stop.” She laid a hand on his chest. “I never had to think about my brother as a sexual being before. Back home, I figured he’d be married off to someone when he became the Chairman, they’d have some kids, life would go on.”
“The fact that that was going to be your fate in life being another reason you didn’t dwell on such matters?”
“Operative word there is was.” Sophia sighed. “So long ago, so far away.”
Walter guided her around a group of young girls posing triumphantly with a big pink stuffed b
ear. “Still no news from Maldive?”
“Trickles. Rumors that the Collective has proposed a constitution that sets up a parliamentary-style government.” She shook her head. “I guess the idea is that the dissident factions would be allowed to stand for election in districts and form a coalition government with the Collective.”
Walter’s gaze grew distant. “They put it in place, hold elections. Once everyone has a power base, they form a reconciliation commission to ‘heal the wounds’ of the past. Collective crimes are balanced against supposed Litzau crimes, so everyone starts at even.”
“But the Collective would have most of the power, so that’s not even.”
“Right, but people will be willing to forgive and forget, so they can disregard their fear of the present while hoping for peace in the future. Do you think that will work?”
“You were in the camp. I think there were a lot of people who would trade freedom for security.” She lowered her head. “I am all for peace. No one should have to live in fear. Even so, I don’t imagine this will secure lasting peace.”
“I agree.” He took her chin in his hand and tilted her head up. “So, knowing that, we continue to work our program. We’re four months in, and we already have a shot at some fixed fights, which puts us ahead of any realistic schedule. Now, about these guests—where are they from?”
Sophia’s heartbeat sped up. “You can ask them yourself. We landed at the port north of town. They’ve invited you to dinner.”
Walter raised an eyebrow. “You mean they invited Snorri and Aniki, and I’ll be allowed to come along?”
“I think I sold you as a bonus guest, but they did like how you performed as the Rabbit.”
“I’m not going to complain.”
“You’re not disappointed you’re not the star?”
“When I get to see you well ahead of schedule?” Walter pulled her into a tight embrace. “Fame is overrated. Spending time with you is not.”
Catastrophe Unlimited Page 4