Текст книги "Shrapnel: Fragments from the Inner Sphere"

Автор книги: Elizabeth Danforth

Соавторы: William H. Keith,Ken St. Andre,Jordan K. Weisman,Michael A. Stackpole
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

‘Ah, Trev-R, I'm good enough. You're just jealous.’

‘Shows what you know, kid. I've got another fight coming up in two weeks also. Ya won't see much of me between now and then. My 'Mech needs repairs.’

‘Well, then,’ said Vayil. ‘That's great! Maybe we'll see each other at the arena! I know you're going to be impressed, Trev-R. Won't you wish me luck like everyone else here has? Not that I'll need it of course.’

A crooked smile appeared on the old warrior's face. ‘Yer a real fire-eater, Vayil, me boy, and I do wish you the best of luck.’

Bonnie, the barmaid, pushed through the crowd and plunked down two bottles-one of Cthonian and the other of R-thing Cola. ‘Compliments of the house.’ she smiled. ‘And, kid. if you're not too busy. I'd like to extend my personal congratulations a little later.’ She gave him a broad wink and a leer as Vayil's fair skin turned beet-red. Then she sashayed away with an exaggerated wiggle.

A few minutes later, Vayil left to talk to other wellwishers. Trev-R settled down to do some serious drinking.

Half a dozen Mech hangars, big, square, ugly gray buildings of Solaris mud-bricks and corrugated aluminum, stood at the edge of town beyond the arena. Trev-R had gotten permission from old Fred McBru. the custodian, to sleep on the premises in the rec room at the rear of the heavy 'Mech hangar. McBru had agreed to it when Trev-R told him that he was flat broke and could not afford to stay in town at Morte's Tavern anymore. Besides, it was far too walk every morning and every night, and Trev-R needed to spend most of his days in the hangar working on his 'Mech.

The WHM-6Rhad its own hangar, which was also filled with scaffolding and gantries. Patches of gray steel showed through the flaking bronze paint on the armor. An ugly black laser scorch marred the front torso engine mounting. Broken myomer muscle cable showed where the left-arm PPC had been blown off. Dings, dents, scorches, and bullet holes covered most of the body, and the head unit, where the pilot rode, looked like it had been smashed in with a club. Just getting the head fixed was going to be a major job. Trev-R put JoeBob to work on replacing the head armor and internal controls, while he and a team of welders tried to reattach the broken PPC. The job took three days of hard work.

It seemed like every time he turned around, JoeBob was feeding him some kind of bad news. The bit that really bothered Trev-R was about the ejector mechanism. It did not work, and it would take more than a month to get a new one to replace it. Worse, when Trev-R checked, Kandar Kant refused to authorize the expense. The Arena Master swore at Trev-R and told him that he was not going to have some chicken-hearted warrior punching out if he got scared in the big fight. Trev-R began to feel that the deck might be even more stacked against him than he had anticipated.

Trev-R used all of his technical expertise to restore the Warhammer.

Cooperation and enthusiasm for the job from JoeBob and the other Techs seemed perfunctory at best, but they managed to affix new ceramic armor and smooth out the dents. Three days before the fight, the Warhammerwas supposedly ready. Trev-R planned to make his own inspection after hours. He had pretended to quit early that day, then sat down to drink a whole bottle of Cthonian. ‘What a sot!’ said JoeBob as he ambled by the table and saw Trev-R leaning back in his chair and snoring.

‘Poor guy,’ said another Tech named Kfyde. ‘He probably knows he doesn't have a chance against that Atlas.With the way you've sabotaged his 'Mech. he'll be lucky to last three minutes.’

‘Oh. the Boss will keep him alive and make it look like a good fight for a little while at least. But he's as good as dead.’

‘That may be why he's getting drunk. He's looked pretty sharp the last few days. He may know he doesn't have a chance.’

The two men turned out the lights and. left Trev-R snoring. When he was sure they were really gone, Trev stopped his act and sat up. It was a real Cthonian whiskey bottle, but the contents had been 90 percent R-thing Cola, with just enough booze in it to give his breath the right smell.

Trev-R scrambled up the scaffolding with a flashlight and conducted a quick inspection. That's when he learned that the crystals in his medium lasers had hairline cracks and would probably blow the first time he tried to use them. That's when he learned that half of his machine gun ammunition was blanks instead of the high-explosive armor-piercing shells it should have been. That's when he found the damaged firing pin that would jam his left gun and that he was able to replace on the spot. That's when he found the premature timing mechanism in three of his short-range missiles. That's when he knew he had been set up to die. And that's when Trev-R decided not to go along with this foul scheme, even if it meant he'd have to cheat.

Trev-R did not get much sleep that night, or the next, and only about four hours on the night before the battle. When the big morning came, however, he was ready, and he had a plan. Perhaps not a great plan, but any plan was better than nothing.

Then, too, there was that smuggler, Toron Jones, who had agreed to get Trev-R offplanet in a hurry if he lived through the fight. And the payroll clerk who had been bribed to give him his ‘winnings’ quickly if, indeed, he should win.

Vayil spent most ot the days ot his two weeks before the fight strapped into his battle couch inside the great spherical head of his mighty new 'Mech. His father was spending a fortune to see that his armament was as good as it could be. Extra armor had been welded onto every vulnerable spot, especially the pilot's quarters. Ammunition was all new, too, and he had a neurohelmet and heat-insulation vest fresh from the factory. Vayil was proud to know that he had the best money could buy. Total expenses: Five million C-bills for the 'Mech and another two hundred thousand in refurbishing.

His 'Mech was a grim-looking monster of gray titanium steel, more humanoid than most ot the BattleMechs around. The word massive described every part of it, from the powerful chest to the sturdy arms and legs. His weapons included a Class 20 autocannon, four medium lasers, and two short-range missile systems capable of firing six missiles each. Normally, the Atlaswould carry a long-range missile system as well, but it had been replaced as unnecessary for arena combat. The whole arena was only 300 meters on a side.

Vayil practiced diligently. As his mind attuned to the computers within the Mech. his movements got less clumsy, more skillful. By the day before the fight, he could bring his 'Mech into an all-out running charge within 100 meters. He could get up from a prone position in just under a minute. He could track a 240-degree arc with his autocannon. and hit a Solaris gullbird with his lasers at 90 meters. He felt ready.

When he woke up on the big day. he found that a card had been delivered during the night. He almost did not open it, until he noticed a number—997—in parenthesis behind his name.

He knew that his opponent was supposed to be some old sot that the Arena had hired He did not know that it was Trev-R until the announcer mentioned it in the opening ceremonies.

Every arena on Solaris is unique. They take the form of jungles, caverns, gigantic buildings, or even more exotic settings. The arena at Xolara was a huge, steel-walled square. The concrete floor concealed several dozen titanium walls, posts, and blocks. These obstructions could be raised and lowered by radio-control. Sometimes the controls were made available to the MechWarriors in their battle machines, and sometimes not. Each warrior would control some of the barriers, but not all They could be overridden by the Arena Master in his control booth, though, of course, he would never do that...unless he had something to gain.

The weather on Solaris is almost always dismal—high winds, acid rain, air pollution—but the day of the big fight dawned bright and clear. Two preliminary matches warmed up the crewd for the main event. Four SDR-5V Spidersengaged in a free-for-all melee until only one was left standing. Then two VLK-QA Valkyriestook on one ENF-4R Enforcer,a match the Enforcerwon, but only barely. The radio-controlled arena barriers had played a big part in keeping the Enforceralive.

No crowd filled the arena stands. Instead, they filled baia and vid-theaters all over the planet Scores of hovering tele-cameras broadcast the action, first to the arena control room where the view was edited and enhanced on a ten-minute delay by vid-engineers. Sound effects—applause, music, explosions, whistles, screams, laughter—were dubbed in by the studio. The fight ‘producers’ monitored and edited the radio chatter of the MechWarriors to provide maximum drama. It was big entertainment and almost as good as a fight from Solaris City

Trev-R and his Warhammercame into the arena first from the west. His 'Mech had been repainted the day before with diamond-glint bronze paint and an image of his grizzled one-eyed face had been stenciled on the left shoulder. The 'Mech towered a full ten meters above the concrete arena floor, and looked impressive. Only Trev-R knew that more than half of his armament was worthless.

He could say one thing for the arena announcer, though. In his introduction, he built up Trev-R to sound like some epic hero. After mentioning Trev-R's experience at the battle of Pinard. the commentator went on to credit him with six other fights and a couple of medals that he had never won. An idealized picture of Trev-R as he had looked about ten years earlier was broadcast around the world, and he heard a computer simulation of himself give a little speech about the nobility of 'Mech combat in the arenas. The audience loved it. Trev-R listened with amazement and a bit of disgust. The thicker you spread it, Kandar, the harder you'll find it to eat,’ he muttered.

Then the Atlasentered from the east, a hulking gray machine three meters taller and thirty tons heavier than Trev-R's Mech. Trev-R had known tor a couple of days now that Vayil would be inside it, though he had been hoping he would not. The announcer gave the boy an equally great buildup. The picture broadcast to the world showed a smiling young man, who was supposedly 18, but looked younger. He had yellow-gold hair cut short in fashionable MechWarrior style. Slim and classically handsome, he posed for the cameras in a crisp military salute. The announcer mentioned Vayil's three fictional battles in other arenas, and said that this was young pilot to watch. By the time the man finished his phony story about the young noble from the House of Oonthrax, it sounded like this would be a real David and Goliath battle. Never mind that David's 'Mech was the real Goliath on the battlefield.

Trev-R and Vayil faced off across the arena. Trev-R heard the kid break radio silence first, his voice tinny and full of static. ‘Trev-R,’ Vayil said urgently. ‘I didn't know it was going to be you.’

‘Listen, kid,’ replied Trev-R on the radio, starting to walk in four-meter strides across the arena ‘You do yer best, and don't worry about me. Of course, if ya had a lick of sense, ya could give up now before ya get hurt.’

The studio engineer keyed in a great wave of canned laughter at that point, drowning out the radio voices. All over Solaris people laughed along To have the old guy bluff the kid was a real hoot.

The Atlasalso lurched into motion. For a moment, it looked like a scene from an old holo-drama of two grim gunfighters stalking each other The Warhammerfired first its right PPC spitting lightning. Energy crackled off the bulky hip structure of the gray leviathan and ceramic armor bubbled and flew off in great steaming chunks. The arena thundered to the sound of man-made lightning until heat buildup in his weapon forced Trev-R to cut it off. A black scorch marred the gray metal finish of the Atlas,but no serious damage had been done.

‘Welcome to the wonderful world of Mech combat, kid!’ sneered Trev-R.

‘Hey!’ yelled Vayil into his radio. ‘You're shooting at me.’ It began to sink in that this was a real fight.

Trev-R saw a laser flash from the Atlas.and the computer informed him of a hit to his knee Before the searing energy could burn through the Warhammersarmor, Trev-R activated a great titanium-steel wall that rose suddenly out of the concrete directly before the Atlas.The laser hit the mirrored surface and splashed for an instant like water before Vayil could deactivate it The announcer made some comment about the superior experience of the old warrior saving him in that situation, and went on to say that the best thing Vayil could do in his mighty Atlaswould be try to close the range so that his autocannon could come into play.

Temporarily screened from view by the wall he had erected, Trev-R kicked his Mech into a run at a 45-degree angle to Vayil's right The Atlas'sautocannon comprised its massive left arm, but the armament on its right side was considerably lighter. He hoped to surprise the kid with a salvo of missiles from his weak side.

A dozen steel poles sprang up all around Trev-R's Mech. ‘Argh. kid, yer gettin' the hang of it,’ said Trev-R as the Warhammersmassive leg struck a post and ripped it from the concrete. The blow clanged through the arena and threw the Mech off balance. With its stride disrupted, the Mech started to fall, but Trev-R knew what to do. He bent both knees and extended the 'Mech's right and left PPC cannons at a 45-degree angle to catch himself as the huge machine tottered forward. He came to rest in a kneeling position and began to rise again as the Atlasemerged from the left side of the obscuring wall.

The Atlas'sfour lasers began to pulse with demonic energy, but Vayil fired high. One of his lasers struck the heavy spotlight mounted on the Warhammersleft shoulder and melted the thick glass. Trev-R fired his medium lasers, scorching away at the Atlas'sheavy leg armor. Superheated ceramics boiled away in steam, but the heavy steel underneath was not yet damaged. Then, just when it looked like the lasers would punch through and possibly tear a hole in the Atlas'sleft leg, they exploded. They had overheated, and the lasing crystals, flawed as they were, had shattered. Trev-R's lasers blinked off.

In the fishhead cockpit of the Warhammer,Trev-R sweated like a fountain as the heat rose and he tried to figure out his next strategy. He straightened the torso, angled it at 45 degrees to reduce the size of the target, and got to his feet. At the same time, he lowered the obstacle that he had put up. and activated another that was closer to him and would cut off Vayil's lasers. A few seconds later, the tremendous ringing of autocannon shells slamming into the barrier told Trev-R that Vayil had changed his strategy. That wall would not last long. Trev-R got moving and carefully picked his way around and over the obstacles that Vayil had thrown up.

One thing had shown up in the battle so far—Trev-R was the more accurate shot, and that was because he trusted his computers more Inside the 'Mech cockpits where the fighters were strapped into place, the battle computers put various displays up on the screen to help the pilots choose their tactics. The pilot who could make best use of this data was always most accurate. Though Vayil had been practicing with the Atlasfor two weeks, and Trev-R had hardly practiced at all, a lifetime of piloting so many different Mech types allowed Trev-R to sink deeper into machine-mode, and it showed in his shooting.

Now both 'Mechs held their fire while closing on one another. The Atlastook five-meter steps and moved straight for the Warhammer.Trev-R. on the other hand, pushed his machine into a run covering six meters to the stride. He angled first to the right, then to the left in a zigzag pattern.

Trev-R saw the Atlaslaunch a volley of missiles. ‘Incoming,’ reported Trev-R's computer. ‘Projection: three hits out of six.’

Trev-R knew he could probably take three hits, but he did not want to. He activated all arena barriers, including one that was close to his position, and froze. Four missiles exploded on contact with various barriers. Two threaded the needle and detonated against the head of the Warhammer.

The sensors went out in a wash of flame, temporarily overloaded. A great cloud of heat and noise enveloped Trev-R, and he prayed the head armor could take it.

Otherwise, he was a dead man. When the explosion subsided, the head unit of Trev-R's 'Mech had been seared badly, but the inner armor had held and Trev-R still lived. Trev-R had closed his eye before the flash. With the additional protection of combat goggles, he was not blinded. There was a slight ringing in his ears, but the huge neurohelmet had protected him from the sound.

‘Visual scanners knocked out.’ reported the computer. ‘Switching to radar.’

The announcer was ecstatic. Six explosions had rocked the arena and two were direct hits. He was sure that Kid Oonthrax. as he was now calling Vayil. had the advantage, and it was only a matter of time.

Trev-R! Trev-R.. Are you O.K.?’ The kid's tinny voice cut through the ringing in his ears.

‘It'll take more than that, kid,’ Trev-R snarled.

With all his barriers now up. Trev-R had no idea exactly where the Atlaswas. He edged around the corner of one wall and then another, moving toward the Atlas'slast known position.

His radar spotted the Atlasat the same time that Vayil made visual contact with him. ‘Damn! Behind me!’ Trev-R cursed and accelerated his 'Mech. Incandescent beams began to melt armor off four different spots on the back torso. One burst through and hit an ammunition cache for one of the machine guns. The fact that more than half the ammo was blanks reduced the force of the explosion, but it still sent the Warhammerlurching forward. Fortunately, Trev-R could turn a barrier corner. In two steps, Trev-R had taken his machine around it.

‘Not bad, kid,’ Trev-R muttered.

In the control booth, Kandar Kant and Baron Irvxx Oonthrax monitored the systems of both Mechs. ‘Trev-R's almost out of it’ said the Arena Master. ‘His medium lasers are gone, and so is one gun. He has lost visual display, and the internal heat must be making him groggy. Time now for the coup de grace.’ and he hit the switch that overrode all arena barriers and lowered them back into the concrete.

When the barriers went down, there were only 100 meters between the two 'Mechs, with the Atlasclosing rapidly. Vayil opened up with everything except his last flight of missiles. He squeezed off shot after shot from his autocannon in bursts of five.

Though he had Trev-R dead in his sights, the heavy explosives consistently hit to Trev-R's left. Trev-R moved his 'Mech in a circle to his right, and Vayil kept missing.

Trev-R circled right and shot back with everything he had The three remaining machine guns chattered away, most of the slugs going wide as he sprayed in an arc 60 degrees in front of his 'Mech. The few that hit bounced like peas off the side of an elephant. The guns jammed and quit firing in seconds. as he had expected. His two small lasers were alternately blazing with incandescent heat, but without visuals, he could not focus them tightly enough to do any real harm. Small pieces of armor vaporized on the approaching leviathan, but the wounds were not very deep and he could not keep them in the same spot. His left-hand PPC was blasting out its electrical fury, but the Atlasmoved inside its range, and Trev-R could not hit. As for his right-hand PPC. he kept it out of the fight, shielding it with the body of the Mech. which he angled back and forth.

‘Trev-R! Trev-R!’ yelled the kid into his radio mike. ‘I'm going to try to take you alive, old pal. Don't worry!’

‘What a generous offer!’ crowed the announcer to his worldwide audience.

‘That's right nice of ya. kid,’ gasped Trev-R. He certainly sounded like a dying man. ‘But I expect to win this fight. Switch to my private frequency—there's something you ought to know.’

‘That's the true warrior spirit!’ howled the sports announcer to audiences around the world. Those who had bet on the Atlaswere already beginning to demand that the losers pay up. Those who had bet on the Warhammerwere griping about never again letting long odds seduce them into betting on an underdog.

All of the Atlas'sfirepower coalesced on the elbow joint of Trev-R's one working PPC. For a few seconds, that arm was wreathed in fire as lasers and cannon shells careened off it in thundering fury. Then the ceramic armor evaporated in the hellish heat and the metal arm fragmented into chunks of molten and broken steel For an instant, the myomer muscles and the titanium bone-work of the arm were visible, then they ruptured in a cascade of high-voltage sparks. The joint shattered and Trev-R's weapon went flying backward.

Around Solaris, there went up a great cheer from the Atlasfans.

Trev-R knew the time had come to activate his last desperate plan. He switched to his private frequency, hoping that Vayil was listening.

Vayil quit firing and raised the Atlas'smassive left arm for a punch that should knock the Warhammeroff its feet.

Trev-R figured the arena personnel would not be able to pinpoint his new ultrahigh radio frequency within the few seconds he needed. ‘Listen up, kid. Your life depends on it,’ he said. ‘A few days ago, I found out that this fight was rigged in your favor, and that I wasn't meant to survive. I don't have a working ejection pod. So. two nights ago. I sneaked into the hangar where your Atlaswas being kept and planted a radio-controlled bomb made from some of my missile explosives there in the command center. Very soon now. I'm going to activate it and blow the head off your 'Mech. If you're still inside, you'll be dead. Get out. and get out quick.’

‘You couldn't have!’ gasped Vayil. ‘Arena security would have kept you away from my Mech!’

‘Arena security is lousy, kid, just like their equipment. To prove what I'm savin'. I also recalibrated the sights on yer autocannon so ya wouldn't be able to hit me with it Believe me. kid, yer life depends on it. Punch out real quick now.’

‘You're bluffing!’ Vayil screamed. ‘You love to bluff—you told me yourself. You think I'll back out and you can win. It won't work, Trev-R. This is my fight! I earned it! Damn you. Trev-R! You can't frighten me away like a boy!’

Trev-R could hear the fearand desperation in Vayil's voice. At that moment, the two Mechs stood almost toe to toe with the Atlaspoised for a punch that would knock the smaller 'Mech on its back. Trev-R had his right-hand PPC angled upward so that its shots would come right up into the chin of the Atlas.He hoped that would disguise what was going to happen.

‘Last chance, Vayil! Punch out, kid! Punch OUT!’

‘No! Damn you! No! I don't..’

‘I figgered ya were too dumb to know what's good fer ya,’ said Trev-R. That's why I re-wired yer ejection mechanism, too. Ya will thank me fer this later, kid.’ Trev-R pulled the trigger for the PPC with one hand and pushed the button to eject Vayil with the other. The Atlasfroze in midpunch as its whole enormous body was covered with the dancing fury of Trev-R's particle beam at point-blank range. The top of the Mech's head blew off and an ejection capsule shot 30 meters into the air. deploying a parachute at the height of its arc. Then Trev-R pushed the second button, and the bomb he had fabricated out of all the explosives that should have gone into his missiles detonated with devastating effect. The rest of the Atlas'shead exploded in a great ball of red flame as heavy metallic plates went flying in all directions.

Viewers all over the planet were stunned as the mighty Atlas,now headless, fell over backward.

‘How on Solaris did Trev-R do that?’ blurted the announcer. ‘I don't believe it. Kid Oonthrax had him at his mercy, and he punched out. I don't believe it! The Atlasis down and out! The Warhammerwins! The Warhammerwins!’

In the arena control booth. Baron Oonthrax and Kandar Kant sat gasping at each other like beached fish. ‘You said he couldn't lose!’ croaked the Baron. ‘I bet everything on this fight. I'm ruined.’

‘Your cowardly son punched out.’ retorted the Arena Master. ‘How could I figure on that? It's all his fault! I bet as much as you did. I'm ruined, too.’

They sat there staring at each other with as much hate as disbelief.

Trev-R's Warhammerstood above its fallen foe for a moment, then slowly turned and began to trudge toward the exit. Trev-R knew what would happen next. He would dodge the publicity people, collect his reward, and be offplanet before sundown. His life wouldn't be worth an iron slug on Solaris once they figured out what he had done.

‘I'm sorry, kid.’ he mumbled to himself, ‘but you don't get to be an old MechWarrior by losin' the big ones.’

‘Yeah. I'm sorry, but if ya meet me at Jones's DropShip like I asked in the note I sent. I'll make it up to ya. My old outfit will take ya on if I recommend ya. and with them, ya can learn to be a real MechWarrior.’