The times are unbalanced. Several factors in our lives which we thought were set have had to change. BattleTechnology tries not to run serial stories, but this climactic episode in the history of our favorite bar was just too good to pass up. For those of you who like to save all the parts of a serial before you begin to read it, be warned, this is part two of three.
Sometimes, being totally screwed can seem to offer peace of mind. After all, if things are roiled up beyond all possible redemption, what else can possibly go wrong? Thinking like that's very dangerous. Once you come to the conclusion that things are as bad as they can possibly get, the universe takes note and figures out some way to make things worse. You'd think I'd have learned that by now.
But it was an understandable oversight. Here I was, coming out of over a decade of retirement to take on a lance of Yakuza killers just so their homicidal boss, Toma Sakuro, the local Cyabun of the Neon Orchids, could have a good time proving how much better a 'Mech pilot he was than any ex-Lyran. And it was all really my fault. I blundered into a scam Toma was running, skimming Yak money to pay for his excesses by killing his own bag-men.
I couldn't prove a thing and Toma had made it clear that if I breathed my suspicions to anyone, I and all my friends were history. With the power of the Yakuza behind him, I was sure he could carry out his threat.
The only thing holding him back was me and a nearlyjunked BattleMech named Apshai. Not a happy situation, I'm sure you'll agree. And though I didn't know it, things were about to get worse.
Three weeks had passed since Toma and I last saw each other. In one more week, we'd be at war, each trying to pound the other to scrap. If it had been just the two of us, I wouldn't have been too worried. Toma piloted a Grand Dragon named Sudden Death. Apshai was a Marauder, a good solid war machine that's got fifteen tons of raw mass over a Grand Dragon. But it was more than just Toma, it was his lance. I had to deal with a Griffin, a Dervish, and a Wyvern as well.
Things looked grim, but I had a few things going for me. Tannian's news-service had swung a deal for an arena space, cutting Toma in for forty percent of the net sales and vid rights. I got twenty percent and the rest for expenses. What Toma hadn't noticed was that we were booked into the Factory, the Marik facility in the Montenegro District, and the terms called for separate starts. Each 'Mech entered at a randomly selected point. Toma's lance would have to try to link up inside. I'll bet he torched a few behinds overthat oversight. But the biggest thing I had in my corner was my friends, the regulars at the Cobalt Coil. If I survived this, it would be thanks to them.
I had the best tech crew you could find on this or any
planet. Ling MacCormack was heading the team and she was
working miracles on Apshal. All the damage left from the retreat of
Severn so long ago was repaired, and they had moved on to
modification. Where they were wrangling the new hardware is
anybody's guess. I won't say they stole it, but I sure didn't have the
C-bills to cover all the toys.
And it was an impressive list of toys. All the old heat sinks were gone, replaced by the new freezers. Ling made good on her promise and the two arm-mounted medium lasers were upgraded to pulse lasers. As well, they managed to fiddle with the old Vlar fusion engine to up the power out-put by about twelve percent. Apshai was fitted with a new computer system and Donovan programmed it himself, lifting and modifying a bunch of software from his shuttle. By the time he was done, I had a new set of broad banded sensors and a state-of-the-art target acquisition system.
But the hardest thing to take was the loss of the old autocannon. Ling pointed out that where I was going, the old Whirlwind autocannon would just be a liability and by doing away with it, we could also dump the ammo bin so I wouldn't worry about it exploding from heat buildup. I fretted for a while, then said okay. The autocannon went, replaced with a Diplan HD Heavy Laser. Ling said the freezers would compensate for the additional heat. But I still worried. When I had time.
You see, Sarah had appointed herself my trainer. I had no say in the matter. She set up a grueling regime of exercise, sirnulation-runs, and practice in Apshai whenever the old girl wasn't being torn apart by the techs. It was like being in the academy again, only this time I was a lot older and less resilient. The few hours of sleep I got each night were a godsend. But even then, I couldn't really escape.
It was the dreams. At first, it was basic nightmares, Apshai and I dying under the guns of Toma's killers. Then, other elements crept in. I began to see Kio, his dead face accusing as if he knew I'd fail in my vow to set things right. No matter what I did, he'd still be dead.
Then, the 'Mech battles began to change. I'd be stalking Toma's Grand Dragon through dark city streets, crashing through buildings in a mad rush to kill him, look down, and see that I'd just smashed the Coil and it was filled with the broken bodies of my friends. I'd wake to Toma's haunting laughter to return to training, seeking solace in exhaustion. It didn't work. The dreams still came, and now they held flashes of that last retreat of Severn. The voices of my dying command screaming in the baking hell of Apshai's over-heated cockpit as I fired barrage after barrage at a relentless enemy. It's a miracle I survived that battle, or a curse. But I digress.
Under Sarah's strict tutelage, I felt myself approach my old fighting trim. My reactions were slower and the eyes not as sharp as they once were, but a lot came back. Unlike some, I hadn't let myself go to seed once I retired. lt showed. I'd never be the man I was at twenty five, but then, I never expected to be. And as Sarah pointed out, I had one other advantage: neither Toma nor any of his lieutenants had any real war-zone experience. I wondered if it would be enough as the day crept closer.
That's one thing about time; no matter how much it seems to drag, it still passes. Suddenly, it was the day before the fight, and the preparations were done. Apshai was battle-ready; at least, as ready as she was going to be. She looked like a new 'Mech. All traces of the previous damage erased by replacement armor. The freezers made bulky protrusions and the torso mounted large laser looked too stubby in comparison to the old autocannon.
Apshai was freshly painted, her armor covered by a subtle, asymmetric mix of black, white, and gray. At first I'd protested the color scheme; then someone showed me a computer 'vid of the camouflage pattern set against interior shots of the Factory, the arena where the fight was to take place. Apshai seemed to vanish into the shadows. I stopped complaining. Glossy black praying mantises were painted on each side of the cockpit copying Apshai's old call-sign, and someone had painted a couple of bottles graced with three x's and a full beer mug on one leg, their idea of a joke. I let it ride and took pride in that barman's symbol.
You see, Apshai was much more than she ever was when I fought for the Commonwealth. Now, she was the extension of the pride and concern of all my friends. A hell of a lot was riding on this lop-sided duel.
That's the kind of cheerful thoughts that were running through my mind as I went through yet another cockpit simulation run the evening before the duel. I was wired into my neurohelmet, linked through a special computer that Sarah found somewhere, programmed to mimic Apshai's performance profile. I was fighting my way through simulations of Toma's lance when the scenario suddenly ended. Sarah's voice came over the com-link, asking me to come out and meet someone. Instantly, I was suspicious, thinking Toma may have opted for a little eleventh hour sabotage, so I cut the computer link to Apshai, enabled the weapons, and took a peek out the view screen. Sarah was standing over by the control console where she'd been running the simulation. There was only one other person in the warehouse, an elderly, austere woman in red ComStar robes. Her iron-grey hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, accentuating the sharp lines of her face and her prominent widow's peak. As if sensing my gaze she looked up at the cockpit ten meters above her. My heat lurched as I recognized her. It was Raythan, the ComStar Precentor of Solaris VIII, someone even more dangerous than Toma.
I unplugged the helmet and set it on the rack behind the pilot's seat before popping free the web restraints and exiting the cockpit. The ladder down from Apshai seemed impossibly long, and yet it took no time to climb down. That red robed figure just watched, her face expressionless except for the ghost of a smile on her lips that was noticeably absent from her eyes. I felt like a lab animal as I walked across the cracked cement.
A few meters away, I stopped and bowed. Sarah's expression was blank, but I read the tension in her body. She knew something was up, but didn't know how to react. I sympathized.
"Precentor, I am honored by your visit." My words sounded remarkably composed.
Her laughter was sharp and brittle.
"I doubt that very much, or my reports on you are wildly inaccurate." The shadow smile still curved her lips, and I saw a decidedly predatory glint to her eyes. "I have some interest in this contest and have already done some small service in assuring its equitable conclusion."
I remembered how an anonymous benefactor had come up with a license to allow me to fight a heavy 'Mech in a sanctioned gaming commission area just when it looked like Toma and I were going to have to take out 'Mechs into an abandoned district to slug it out in an illegal 'Mech duel. That license opened a lot of doors and the advance on the 'vid rights to the sanctioned battle financed Apshai's restoration. It looked like I'd found my hidden friend. Now came payback time.
Somehow, I felt sure Raythan read my thoughts in the play of expression across my face. I never was much of a card player.
"I am indebted to you and thank you for your charity." I emphasized the last word to make it clear I hadn't asked for her help. The slight tightening of her mouth told me I'd scored a point.
"Quite. Now, I have an offer, one I'd like to make in private." The flick of her eyes at Sarah made her intentions obvious. Sarah bristled with anger. Her reconstructed hand unconsciously clenched on a ceramic mug, and before I could react, the mug shattered in a spray of chips. Sarah relaxed her hand and white dust sifted from the fingerless black gloves she wore. I wondered if it has been an accident.
"I'll be outside if you need me." Sarah's voice was as cold as deep space as she walked out, her spine rigidly straight.
"An interesting woman," Raythan said once Sarah was gone. "Do not undervalue her loyalty."
"I never set value to my friends. They are each priceless." Again the twitch kinked the corner of her mouth.
"Quite right, and I applaud your wit if not your wisdom. Now to the matter at hand. I have some interest in the 'Mech battle you are about to undertake."
Her words triggered an icy tingle up my spine. I remained silent, wafting for her explain.
"As you may have guessed, I secured the license under which you will fight. I ask nothing for it in return. I also helped secure your use of the Factory for your duel and assured the random entrance of all participants."
A wintery smile crossed her lips for a moment. "I am sure Toma was not pleased over that development. Again, the help was freely given since it was not offered or asked for. This, however, has a price." She set a micro-optic disk on the console before me. In the florescent light, the ten- centimeter disk sparkled like a captive rainbow in its envelope. At last, I found my voice.
"What is it?"
"Something that doesn't exist. An original floor plan of the Factory. A trifle out of date. Still, perhaps it's the edge you'll need to balance Toma's advantage. It is not cheating to use, no provision prohibits you from employing maps of the arena. This one just happens to be better than anything else available."
My mouth was as dry as a dehydrated martini.
"What's it cost?"
"A favor, nothing more. At some point, I will come to you and ask for something, I do not yet know what. And you will do it for me."
"I'm not a hired killer."
"My dear man, I know. Assassins are far easier to come by than true men of honor. And that is what you are. You may hide behind the facade of the aloof bar-keep who only watches the world, but you can not change the man inside. I believe that when I come to you, you will listen, and if you judge it proper, and fair, you will do as I ask. That is a rare commodity in these war-ravaged years. Consider." She picked up a heavy crimson cloak from the empty chair and set it around her shoulders. Without a backward glance, she walked out.
The glimmering disk caught my gaze. I picked it up and wondered how something so small could be so heavy. For a while I simply stared at it, then slipped it into a jacket pocket. I could always return it un-opened.
Then, with nothing better to do, I sat down and switched on the small computer terminal, logged in and took a look to see if anyone had sent me E-mail while I was in the simulator. After skimming through the usual assortment of junk advertising, obscene electronic graffiti, and chain letters, I ran across one with the Neon Orchid symbol for a return address. The icy tickle was back on my spine as I triggered the read command. Toma's ugly face materialized on the screen, and I was again struck by how much He looked like a toad. While he spoke, he grinned and toyed with his wispy mustache.
"My esteemed opponent," he said, disgust dripping from each word. "On this, the eve of our honorable battle, I thought I might offer something to quicken your tired, marital blood. I know it has been many years since you and Apshai have fought, long years that must have taken their toll on the both of you. This will make my task all the easier, perhaps too easy. People will say you threw the fight to save your precious bar. To forestall that, I am telling you that if you lose tomorrow, I intend to forcibly procure the Cobalt Coil and have it demolished, or perhaps run it as a massage parlor or a tattoo emporium." He chuckled, vastly amused by his own wit. "By telling you this, I'm assured you will fight as well as a broken-willed, tattered old man can. Until we meet on the killing ground..."
Toma's image faded, replaced by the glowing pink orchid. I hardly noticed. Rage clogged my throat. Blood pounded in my head, hammering like a war drum. I turned toward Apshai, intent on marching her into Toma's fortress and leveling the nest of snakes. When I was done, nothing would grow for generations. As I grabbed the first rung of the ladder, I sensed an icy, suffur-tainted wind. Raythan must have forgotten to shut the door. But I'd seen it close. I turned, and the door stood open, letting in the night air. It cooled my temper, and I released the ladder. This was not the way. Even if I succeeded, I'd still bring down the wrath of the Yakuza. The only way out was to beat Toma at his own game.
"We'll do what we can, old girl," I said to Apshai. She didn't answer, but the night wind seemed to chuckle.
Later, back at the Coil, at what was billed as a previctory party, I sat surrounded by friends listening to each give me advice on how to win the duel. I smiled and nodded while mixing drinks, but the voices all blended into a single roar. The weight of the disk hung on me like a lead cloak. I couldn't stop thinking about it, its promise and its cost. How much is a soul worth now-a-days? Would I sell mine?
I can tell what you are thinking; why agonize over the malfing question? Take the data, use it, and pay the bill when it comes dues. After all, it's ComStar you'll owe, not some black- hearted bandit lord. But you see, I don't trust ComStar. I never have. I can't tell you why because I never had any hard evidence, just shadow and circumstance. Still, they play their own game. Those that see them as the last bastion of hope for the darkening Inner Sphere are deluding themselves. I didn't want to put myself blindly in their debt. But the only other choice was to possibly throw away all the people who went to the wall for me. Most of them staked a lot on their fight: their time, their money, and their hope. How could I let them down? My eyes kept drifting to the pocket that held the disk.
At last, it was closing time. I locked up, balanced the books, and stepped out into the rain-slick streets. Sarah was wafting for me.
"Thought I'd walk you home in case Toma decides to jump the start time." her hazel eyes flicked across the dark streets, hunting for Yakuza assassins.
I wanted to tell her of Toma's threat so that someone would be ready if I failed. I held back. This was my fight, I'd already taken too much from her.
We walked in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. When I reached my flat, she went in first to make sure it was clear. She made no comment at the austere decor. I never was one for keeping mementos, they remind you of too much. A moment of awkward silence fell as we each wafted for the other to say something. She looked at me with those young-old eyes, a single strand of dark hair across her forehead. I wondered what she saw when when she looked at me.
"By ten hundred at the warehouse then?" her words were soft, filled with questions I couldn't answer.
I nodded.
"Yeah, we'll run the final system check and then I'll give you a lift to the factory." I dropped my gaze to the floor. "I want to thank you for what you've done. If I've got any prayer of pulling this off, it's due to your help, and the help of the rest."
My words died in a vague, awkward gesture as I struggled to find a way to express what I felt. Then she smiled and I thought she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. With a sudden lunge, she embraced me and buried her head against my chest. I felt her shake with a repressed sob. Then she looked up, her eyes bright, passionate fire. She was gone before I reacted, the soft click of the door marking her exit. I stood like a teenage fool, staring at the doorway, her kiss tingling my lips. She didn't come back. It was hard to fall asleep that night, and when I did, the dreams returned.
"All power linkages show full capacity," the phantom
voice whispered in my ear. It was Apshai's voice, the sound of her
onboard computers speaking through the neurohelmet, telling me
all systems were powered up and ready to go. I sent out the signal
to arm all weapons and watched the indicators on the HUD spring
to light. The computer ran through all the targeting cross-hairs in sequence, letting me know all weapons were on-line, then switched them off.
They would pop up whenever I asked for them. Apshai had dual processors, voice activated and neural-interface command. I ran a last check down the indicators, confirmed engine output, then switched on the exterior speakers.
"This bus is leaving." My amplified voice boomed through the warehouse. Sarah waved and scrambled up the ladder to the cockpit. I turned on the radio and triggered open the rolling doors while Sarah strapped into the tiny seat behind my command couch.
"Solaris City Traffic Control, this is Jansfield, S, requesting ground clearance along route..." I paused to look atthe notes clipped to the arm rest of my seat. "12-9813-141. My Marauder is on its way to the Marik arena for special exhibition bout delta stroke delta eleven. I repeat, I am requesting clearance."
The vid screen lit up, showing the face of a city militia man.
"Jansfield, S, you are cleared to bring your Marauder through by route 12-9813-141. Do not deviate from your path or you may be assessed civil penalties to all roads, buildings, or other private or city property. And good luck on your bout, warrior, the odds are running fourteen to one against you.
With a surge of myomer muscles, Apshai strode from her tomb. Rain drizzled on the armored hide, streaking the view ports and vapor curled around the banks of freezers. I was enthralled.
For the first time in a decade, I was piloting my 'Mech. She moved like part of my body, the seventy-f ive ton monster responding to my thoughts as she paced through the rain slick streets. Behind me, I heard Sarah murmur in admiration, whether for my piloting or the job of restoring Apshai I couldn't say. To test it, I switched on the telemetry program Donovan provided and superimposed the information over a vid map of the city. A gold spark marked Apshai's position, a blue neon line traced the appointed route to the arena. The kilometers passed and soon, the bleak silhouette of the Marik factory loomed out of the mist.
For those of you unfamiliar with The Factory, let me describe it. Once, it was a factory that built shuttlecraft. It's huge, about two kilometers long by nearly one kilometer wide. It was built to accommodate industrial 'Mechs, with giant ramps, massively reinforced floors and gaping, hangar spaces. Dueling 'Mechs have turned the inside into a maze of broken concrete and twisted steel. Some people swear by it, as arenas go. I just know it has seen some of the most savage exhibition bouts ever stage on Solaris. I felt sure this contest was going to set a new standard. Toma had stacked the deck in his favor. It was up to me outplay him.
On my side was Apshai. She was bigger than any one of Toma's lance. But if they ganged up on me... At least we would all enter the factory from randomly selected points. I just had to find my four opponents before they linked up.
As I passed through the final blocks to the factory, I ran into the reception committee. It was the gang from the Coil, complete with huge mylar banners to show their encouragement. Even Stasberg, the owner, was out, standing there while the rain destroyed her carefully lacquered hair. She must have had money riding on bout. Sarah crowded beside me to watch through the view screens while we passed. I stopped, executed an awkward bow and continued on to the cheering of my friends. That did a lot to lighten my spirits. As I entered the staging area, my spirits plummeted. The yakuza lance was drawn up in perfect military order, Toma's Grand Dragon flanked by his lieutenants' machines.
"Don't let it rattle you," Sarah said as she unstrapped. "We all have faith in you. Someone asked me to give this to you, sort of a good-luck charm." She pulled a worn circuit board form the pouch at her side. As best I could tell, it was a BattleMech master fire-control link.
"What's this?" I turned the board over in my hands, wondered if something so old could still function.
Sarah shrugged.
"I was supposed to tell you it's from Shadak, part of his old 'Mech. Now let's get down so the judges can check your machine."
My scalp crawled as I set the board on the couch. I wondered which one of the Coil regulars Shadak had entrusted this relic to before he died. I was willing to wager it came from his sergeant's old 'Mech, the one that saved Shadak's life on Svenson's Drift. Perhaps it would bring me luck.
I climbed down from Apshal, and let the gaming officials into her. Sarah wished me luck one last time and left the field. She would watch the bout on vid back at the Coil. I watched her walk away, my spirits settling into my boots. The gaming commission inspectors were checking Apshai.
They were supposed to make sure no one cheated by bringing in an illegal 'Mech. I always wondered what constituted an illegal 'Mech in open category fighting, something like disguising an Atlas as a Stinger, I suppose. Most likely, it was just tradition, the meaning lost to the past. I just hoped they wouldn't spot the boot- legged telemetry computer. I realized I was fretting about the fight but felt powerless to stop ft. Then things got worse.
While I wafted in the drizzling rain, I spotted a pair of people walking across the wet ferrocrete. One was Toma. The other I didn't recognize. Toma now looked like an oversized toad stuffed into a cooling vest with the Neon Orchid Emblem on the breast. His companion was a small, greyhaired man of Asian ancestry, somewhere between forty and a hundred years old. He wore a simple business suit and his face expressionless. Not hostile, only neutral. I wondered if he were an associate of Toma's. Then I noticed something odd. By his body language, I saw that Toma was afraid of this man. They stopped two meters from me.
"Jansfield-san," This time, Toma's bow was deep and respectful though I saw an angry glint in his eye. "I have the honor of presenting my Oyabun, Kito Hasiha. He requested I introduce you."
I bowed to the two men.
"I am honored that one so high deigns to interest himself in the minor exhibition we are to stage. It seems it would hardly be worth your notice." My words cut into Toma, and I saw him stiffen with repressed rage. Kito didn't react, and it took all my will power not to flinch under his unblinking gaze.
"Other business brought me to Solaris," Kito said, his words soft and measured. "Fortuitous timing, since I consider this bout quite important." His gaze swung to Toma who puffed with pride. "I am most interested in the outcome of this duel."
He turned to walk away. Toma sneered and followed. I didn't collapse though my knees felt damn rubbery. Just what I needed, the attention of a Yak Lord whose servants I was about to try to kill. As I said, the universe loves making a bad situation worse.
The judges cleared all five 'Mechs, so I mounted up. As I strapped in and set my helmet, I kept looking at the drive of my navigation computer. Raythan's disk was in the pocket of my seat. I remembered the look of my friends, cheering and waving their banners as I passed. Even the old lady came out to urge on her bartender. I thought of the Coil, and those who spun tales of their lives, and what would happen if Toma won. The disk called. I answered. With sudden resolve, I peeled off the outer wrapping and slotted the disk. The ComStar logo blazed on the screen as it automatically downloaded its maps into my NavComp. Even after the symbol faded, it burned in my mind.
The radio crackled to life as the voice of the announcer filed my cockpit.
"Marauder, license number MAR-124-5, you are cleared to enter The Factory. Proceed to staging area B, and follow the lighted trail to your assigned entrance point. The bout will begin in thirty Terran standard minutes. Remember, you are being monitored and live-broadcast. . Please proceed to your entrance points. Gentlemen, warriors, gamesmen, we wish you luck, and may your aim be true."
With a lurch, Apshai started forward. Across the courtyard, I saw Toma's lance break up and head for their own individual entrance points. Unbidden, an ancient quote surfaces in my mind.
"We, who are about to die, salute you!"
End of Part 2
Tales of the Cobalt Coil: Part 3
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