It was Friday night at the Cobalt Coil and, as happens every two weeks, the PPC's were going as fast as half-price ammo in a warzone. The fights were on. Sure, I know, walk into just about any bar on Solaris and the vids will be showing some gladiatorial Mech bout, either live or taped. But the Coil's different. Most of our customers are tied with the arenas some way. Blake's Blood, most of this Godcursed planet's population lives and dies by the games. At the Coil, we figure that they may want to get away form the steel and death of combat for a few hours. Most of the time our vids are dark. Besides, the chatter of the commentators would get in the way of story telling. But this half-price night happened to fall on the same night as a special bout. Four of our regulars were taking on a single opponent. Hanset, Edelwise, Chon, and Proudfoot all had rattletrap Stingers. The four of them formed a tight knit little clique, splitting warehouse and mechanic fees, watching each other; generally keeping each other out of trouble, all the while maintaining a boisterous, infectious friendship. They were well liked at the Coil. They'd accepted a contract to fight an exhibition bout, the four of them against a Grand Dragon. The Grand Dragon was piloted by an arrogant little wretch who always wore black. He had 'Kurita' practically stamped on his forehead. You could almost taste the contempt in his voice in the pre-battle interview. I hoped the kids were getting good Cb's for this. The battlefield this time was a quarter-klick wide circle of empty sand that was used by people who wanted to stage a spectacle rather than a fight. You know, something designed to show off massive fire power, not good piloting. This exhibition was to show off the Grand Dragon; I suspect the Combine was paying for the whole thing. So we watched because four of our friends were fighting for their lives. Did I mention the special battle-contract condition? All of the warriors concerned had to disarm their ejection systems. Nice touch. In any case the Grand Dragon got more than he bargained for. Our kids fought as a team, a well practiced and coordinated team. Three of them would draw his attention and make themselves targets, trusting to their mobility to protect them, while the fourth slipped behind to chip away at his back armor. The Dragon finally realized what was going on and set his back to the Arena wall. So the kids fell back out of range of his weapons and saturated the air waves with comments about Takashi Kurita's many deviant sexual preferences. The Grand Dragons took this for about four minute, then came out of his corner raging in Japanese and firing all his weaponry as fast as he could. In the Coil, we all started cheering. If there is one thing that has killed more Mechs than shoddy Tech work, it's out-of control warriors. Once you let your emotions take over on the battlefield, it's time to check the scrap armor prices. As we all predicted, the Dragon managed to overheat his 'Mech and chew up the arena pretty good. (He wasn't getting his damage deposit back!) The kids moved in and took that machine apart. By the time it was done, Hanset and Chon were out of the fight and I don't think their Stingers would ever move 'cept by crane. When the official announcement came through, awarding the full purse to our four, all of who made it out alive (though Chon was laid up for two months and still walks with a limp), the cheers damn near leveled the entire block. I stood a round for the bar to toast our friends' valor, and the PPC's started flowing in earnest. The Kurita variant became the drink of the evening, and we nearly ran out of sake. Then, sure enough, someone started in with a story. The subject of weight differentials came up. Now you all know that generally the heavier Mech in a given contest will have the advantage. If for no other reason, because they sport more armor. But a lot of other factors can come into play, things like mix of weaponry, speed, use of terrain and such. But the single largest balancing factor is skill and experience. And that was the subject of the night. An ex-aerospace jock turned merchant finished his tale of an old wingman of his that suckered a fighter twice his size into a rather nasty atmosphere, then watched as his adversary's larger craft was shredded in the horrendous crosswinds of the gas giant's upper atmosphere. We all got quiet for a few moments, thinking to the cold, crushing death in a methane hell, and I set out a new round. Then Suntroy took the floor. Suntroy was a pilot for an outfit that ran a ferry service to and from the local jump points. The ferry men would take small DropShips out to the jump points to meet JumpShips and transport cargo and passengers in system. The shuttle jocks tended to be a flamboyant lot that handled their DropShips like aerospace fighters and Suntroy was no exception. Tall and lean, he dressed like something from an old Terran vid, with calf high black boots, a billowing silk shirt, and snug black slacks that showed off his leg muscles. He wore a saber for show, but I knew he kept a microneedier holstered at his wrist for real fighting. Suntroy was all right. At the Coil he could let the image slip a little, revealing the friendly, witty man behind the swashbuckler image. He played a mean hand of bridge, too. So Suntroy lifted his Steiner PPC and cleared his throat. Once he was sure he had our attention, he began to speak. "If our master barkeep will charge the offered glasses, I'll tell you of a lopsided 'Mech duel I witnessed. And I do mean duel, not a simple battlefield encounter that happens to bring two warriors together in combat. This was premeditated. It was back when I was flying an aerospace fighter for a mercenary company called Randal's Freefighters. Randal was long dead, but we kept the name to provide a sense of history. We were working for the Commonwealth doing garrison duty on a small ag-world called Apollo; it's out by the Dark Nebula. Apollo had been hit regularly by some very professional Periphery bandits, so our group, led by Hauptman Kiero, got to stand guard. Kiero was not your usual merc captain. For one thing he was a Draconian, and for another, he was a good, patient man, hardly what I'd expect from the Combine. Kiero was of humble birth, but early testing had showed his potential. With lots of hard work he got admitted to the Dieron District Gymnasium. Not the best of schools, but it taught him the basics of 'Mech combat. When mixed with his natural talents, this was a potent enough combination to get him sent to the prestigious Wisdom of the Dragon Academy. He lasted two years before washing out. Officially, it was a discipline problem. In truth, Kiero was too good and too inventive. The offspring of the Draconis Lords didn't like an upstart showing them all up with tactics that weren't by the book. So Kiero 'Meched around the Combine army for five years in a battered old Phoenix Hawk until a garrison commander pushed a little too far. To his credit, Kiero didn't take the unit out, he simply found a Lyran merchant willing to slip him off planet, and left the Combine to try his luck in the Commonwealth. He requested political asylum, explaining that he was unwillingto betray his old comrades, bad blood notwithstanding. The Lyrans understood more or less, but since he wouldn't completely share his knowledge, they wouldn't let him join their armed services. I suspect they thought he might double back again. This suited Kiero. He asked for a list of small merc groups under long term contract to House Steiner that would not be likely to see service in the Combine theaters, and applied to Randal. Randal took him; Kiero's own skill saw to his rapid advancement. When Randal died he left Kiero in charge. Enter Kiero's antagonist. There was nothing wrong with Yohan that a quick burst from an assault rifle wouldn't cure. The son of a noble family, Yohan knew he was destined for great things so he didn't bother working for anything. His father kept putting him into 'Mech academies but Yohan kept getting tossed out. Finally the old man bought a training billet with the Freefighters. Oh joy. At least the kid brought in a worthwhile machine. It was a Rifleman in mint condition, which significantly upped our unit's combat strength. If only it hadn't been linked to Yohan. Yohan started antagonizing the entire unit f rom day one. You'd have thought we were his servants, all of which should be thankful for his presence. Kiero did what he could to keep the frayed tempers from breaking. He kept pointing out that it was only for a year, and that if we didn't take Yohan our contract might suddenly expires. So we suffered, each keeping Yohan as far away as possible and counting the days. Then the bandits hit, and everything changed. How they snuck on planet we never found out. They were from the Marian Hegemony. Besides wanting food, they were after parts from the main water processing plant. Expecting the plant would be a prime target, Kiero had stationed us there. We scrambled and met them as they were exiting their DropShips. A good fight ensued. Yohan wasn't there. The commander had left him at base with specific orders to guard against incoming fighters. Our fighters were to take the offensive, so only two were on base defense. Yohan, certain that he had been given a behind the lines post in order to rob him of a warrior's glory, decided to recut his orders. He made it to the water plant in time to get a few shots in at the departing ships. When we made it back to base we found the results of Yohan's dereliction. Four bandit fighters had got through to the base. Our fighters destroyed three of them before being destroyed themselves, but that fourth had wrecked holy hell before breaking off. Lacking the Rifleman's specialized anti- aircraft weaponry, we lost tons of ammo, a warehouse of spare parts and twenty-two noncombatants, including four civilians. All the officers gathered for a debriefing that night, most of us still in combats. Acting Lieutenant Yohan knew he'd messed up big, but he tried to bluster through, claiming he'd picked up a call for reinforcements from the battle. Kiero didn't dispute his lie. He just started outlining plans for reconstruction. Yohan, thinking he'd got the best of the old man, loudly suggested that the night's debacle was 'command's fault', that perhaps it was time for a change of leadership. The ward room got suddenly quiet as we all waited for the CO to blow. Even Yohan sensed he'd made a mistake. Kiero was silent for a few moments as those brilliant black eyes of his bored into Yohan. Then he spoke in those same soft tones he always used. "I accept the lieutenant's challenge for command. We will meet at sunrise at Valley 14 in the north training area," he said. Then he got to his feet and left, amid a chaos of shouted questions and protests. A sudden grin split Yohan's face as he too got up and swaggered out. He expected a target shoot come dawn. I was the first out of the wardroom behind the CO and even then it took me a good twenty meters to catch him. I grabbed him (why he didn't break me for that I'll never know) and asked him what this was all about. He looked at me with those hard yet gentle eyes and said, "This is the only way to preserve this unit's honor." Carefully, he removed my hand. "He'll cut you to fragments!" I shouted as he walked away. "Reflect on that," he responded as he stepped out into the compound. Kiero was gone all night. You'd think he'd have been checking his machine after the previous battle in preparation for the duel, but he just vanished from the base. The entire Tech crew was up all night on his Phoenix Hawk, that was how much we cared for him. Yohan had to do his own Teching, but that didn't dampen his spirits. He kept working at that impeccable Rifleman, telling passers by how things were going to be run once he was in command. A few of us almost took prybars and wrenches to him. But we didn't; it was Kiero's show and we respected that. Might have been kinder if we hadn't. Kiero showed up and hour before sunrise and climbed into his machine without a word. Yohan mounted up and the two of them, escorted by the rest of the unit, headed out to Valley 14. Valley 14 was located five klicks north of the base in a blister of mountains. They were heavily wooded and nearly deserted so we used them for practice. The airwings got there first and did a few low level fly overs. This was our signal to the locals to clear out. Half an hour later the 'Mechs arrived. The rules were simple. Once they were in position Ramirez, the unit exec, would count fifty. Then they'd have at it. The other warriors were to watch from the ridge lines but we all had to maintain radio silence. Kiero made it quite clear he would cashier anyone who tried to take sides, then he and Yohan moved into the valley and we all took watch positions. I had a good view from my fighter, though Kiero made sure we knew not to hover or circle over one duelist. And then, as the first light of false dawn appeared, Ramirez began her slow count. It was like something from a vid. Two huge war machines, their feet sinking into the grass, separated by a hundred meters, waiting while the numbers tolled over the comlink like a funeral bell. The odds were running against Kiero, but I don't think anyone bet. No one wanted to make book on Yohan. As the final numbers sounded, daylight flooded the valley. And chaos erupted. Before Ramirez finished saying 'fifty', both 'Mechs acted. The Phoenix Hawk lifted up on a plume of jump exhaust as a sleet of autocannon rounds and laser beams slashed beneath it. Yohan's curses came over the air waves as his 'Mech spiked red with waste heat. That's a problem with the Rifleman, not enough heat sinks. But Kiero didn't close for a kill. He hit the ground and his machine tucked into a shoulder roll like a gymnast. Kiero's 'Mech tumbled sideways and ended up on its knees. He snapped off a single shot from his heavy laser that carved armor from the Rifleman's left shoulder, then was up and running back into the trees. Yohan sent a few barrages of autocannon rounds after him, clipping the Hauptman's 'Mech in the legs, but not slowing it. Kiero paused at the tree line, fired his laseragain and sliced armor from his opponent's left leg before disappearing from sight. Grumbling, Yohan started after him, tearing huge divots of soil free with his lumbering 'Mech. Yohan hit the woods like a mad bull, knocking over trees in his haste to catch Kiero. He needn't have hurried, the CO was waiting for him just inside the trees. Three laser beams stabbed from the Phoenix Hawk. One missed, one cut the Rifleman's side, but one beam destroyed the radar antenna above the head. Before Yohan could react, Kiero was up on his jump jets again and out of sight. The Rifleman followed. What developed was a lethal game of follow the leader. Kiero handled his 'Mech like the master he was, tempting Yohan back into the maze of valleys and gorges, keeping him alert with sniped shots. Whenever Yohan sighted Kiero, he'd cut loose with his laser and autocannons. A lot of his shots went wide; Yohan was no great marksman; but some hit. The Hauptman kept jumping, staying clear of the brunt of Yohan's attacks, but we could see the damage accumulating on both 'Mechs. A Rifleman can soak up more hits than a Phoenix Hawk. Then it happened. Kiero was a little slow on an escape. Both heavy lasers caught him on the left arm as he was still airborn. The ruby beams sliced through the arm like a medtech's saw, severing it. The arm fell in a shower of molten metal. Unbalanced, the Phoenix Hawk tumbled, smashing into a grove of trees. We all held our breath, fearing for the Captain and our unit. My hands strayed for my weapon controls, but somehow I restrained myself. Then Kiero was up and running, his 'Mech dodging autocannon fire as he sent a burst of machine gun bullets at the Rifleman. Yohan shouted in triumph, sensing the kill, and hurried to give chase. He lost the Hauptman in the winding canyon, but even a blind Capellan can track a running 'Mech by its footprints. You don't dance 45 tons of metal across even the hardest ground without leaving signs. The tracks led up canyon until they came to the cross where the canyon continued north and south while two others joined it from the east and west, forming an X. Just shy of the intersection, Yohan could see the blast marks from a fresh jump jet liftoff, but there was no sign of the Hauptman. Suspecting an ambush, Yohan moved forward slowly, swinging his 'Mech's weapons from side to side. I think I'm the only one who saw exactly what ended the duel. The watching 'Mechs had fallen behind the duelists, since they had to follow the ridge lines, and I was the only fighter in position to see both the west and east branching canyons. This is what I saw. Just as Yohan's 'Mech came flush with the side canyons, Kiero reappeared, but there were two of him. I saw his Phoenix Hawk rise up out of a small river in the east canyon and the same thing happened in the west branch. Yohan, looking east, saw only one machine. For a moment, I thought the Hauptman had cheated, bringing in a backupwarrior, but then I noticed that an arm was gone from both machines. Perfectly synchronized, both Phoenix Hawks lifted their large lasers. The one behind Yohan hold its laser in its right hand; the one in front held it in the left. They didn't jump. This was to be the showdown. Yohan's whoop of triumph must have been audible for three parsecs as he locked all weapons on the Phoenix Hawk in front of him. It seemed to ripple for a moment, then he fired. For a moment I saw the dazzle of reflected laser light, then the Phoenix Hawk simply disappeared. A couple of the autocannon shells detonated where it'd been standing but most simply passed through and blew holes in the valley side. Yohan's 'Mech spiked red with excess heat, then the Phoenix Hawk behind him fired. Three lasers hit the Rifleman in the back, slashing through armor and burning into the main compartment. An explosion of sparks erupted from the front of the stricken 'Mech as it tottered for a moment. I could tell Yohan's gyro was gone. Sixty tons of Rifleman hit the ground with a grinding crash. It lay there on its chest like a giant corpse. Kiero simply walked away, as the smoke of burning myomer marking the wreckage of the loser. Yohan survived. We shipped him off with a full explanation. His family wasn't pleased. They'd paid a lot to set up their eldest son and now he was disgraced. They made trouble, and within a few months Kiero left the unit. It was either that or we were going to have to violate our contract, which would have effectively spelled the end of the unit. Within a year I got in an argument with the new command and shipped out. Kiero wouldn't talk about the duel. The onetime I cornered him in private and told him what I'd seen, he just smiled and said, "Never underestimate the wisdom of reflection." That wasn't enough for me. On my next day off I flew up to the battleground to check things over. I found this." Suntroy took out a battered ID fold. He dumped it on the bar. After returning C-bills, his local pilot license, and assorted scraps of paper, he held up a torn fragment of shiny plastic. I recognized it. It was aluminized mylar, the stuff used to make radar chaff. "Shreds of this stuff were scattered all over that east branching canyon. And I found a set of cleats with broken guy wires on two trees that flanked the canyon about twenty meters in." Suntroy smiled and picked up the mylar. "That old b set the whole thing up from the moment he 'accepted' the challenge. He hiked out there and strung a huge mylar curtain by himself at night. During the duel he made sure he disabled the Rifleman's radar. Then he drew Yohan up, moved out of sight and stumped into the west river. He concealed himself there by lying down, quite a risk with a shot-off arm. He must have watch for Yohan with his magnetics, and once he was in position, Kiero stood up and delivered the ultimate sucker punch. What took me the longest to figure was how he knew Yohan would fall for it. Yohan was running on visuals, targeting with line-of- sight. And like most right handed people, he tended to lead right with just about everything. So when he stepped into the canyon intersection, he faced right first and saw the mirror image of Kiero's 'Mech. If he hadn't been too eager, he might have noticed the reflection ripple as the mylar trembled in the breeze. I did, but I didn't realize what it meant. Or the fact that the large laser was suddenly in the other hand; Yohan wasn't very observant." Suntroy lifted his drink in his right hand and we all drank to Kiero's craftiness. Old Liao himself would have been proud of that plan. The Suntroy spoke up again. "Kiero taught me a very important lesson that day. This scrap of plastic reminds me of it each time I reach for a C-bill. If ever anybody offers you a fight, think about it before you swing. Because he might have, and you could be facing a set-up." Suntroy grinned his lopsided grin and scanned the bar. "He taught me the power of reflection," he said, and lifted his drink in another toast. Back to BattleTechnology 15 Table of Contents Back to BattleTechnology List of Issues Back to MagWeb Magazine List © Copyright 1992 by Pacific Rim Publishing. This article appears in MagWeb.com (Magazine Web) on the Internet World Wide Web. Other military history articles and gaming articles are available at http://www.magweb.com