He spoke again as the lights on the starting pole changed from green to yellow. Dawn throttled the old Shadow Hawk's fusion reactor to maximum power and opened the heat sinks all at once. "One more thing," he said.
"Aye? What is that?" Dawn gripped the joystick firmly, readying to charge at the Griffin.
"Carmody's Cavaliers are known to cheat," Mordoc said, his voice almost drowned by the sound of the Shadow Hawk roaring to life. "Good luck, Dawn!" Just then the light on the pole turned red. The moment of battle had come and she was ready.
Outside, the voice of the announcer blared, but Dawn could not hear it and opted not to tune in on her command frequency. She was in her element. She wanted to shout or sing or scream with the power of it. This is what I do. This is what I am, a warrior. This is the one thing that no one, not even the Khans of the Steel Vipers can take from me. It is the one truth I can hold onto no matter what. I will win here today and that will be only the first victory in restoring my honor. She leveled the Armstrong J-11 autocannon at the Griffin and began to run, breaking slightly to the right. She needed the weapon, but not now, in a few moments.
The Carmody pilot was moving at a very slow walk, hugging the back corner of the arena to keep her at a distance. Dawn understood the tactic and knew that within three seconds he could lock onto her and open up with his deadly PPC. The particle projection cannon would rip her Shadow Hawk apart if she did not take him out or close the range to where he could not safely use the weapon. In tight quarters she would stand a better chance and have much better odds in her favor.
On the third and critical second of his attempt to lock on to her, Dawn ignited the old Shadow Hawk's jump jets, leaping almost five meters into the air by the time her opponent fired his PPC and long-range missiles. Three of the missiles found their mark in the Hawk's leg armor, but more important was that the bright blue flash of the PPC missed her.
Having piloted jump-capable 'Mechs only a few times before now, she had some difficulty in handling the Shadow Hawk as it rose over the smoke and weapon blasts. To Dawn, as to many Clan warriors, jump jets were weapons of a coward. Freebirth warriors of the Inner Sphere used them to fight unfairly, to get behind a true warrior for a rear shot. She would never stoop to that, but using the jets for simple movement did not violate any code or honor. Even though she had been thrown into the world of freebirths, Dawn found comfort in being true to the Clan way.
He will expect me to close to medium range where my weapons are best. I will not give him the satisfaction or the opportunity. Instead of moving laterally across his field of fire and taking up a firing position of her own, Dawn guided the low-flying Shadow Hawk straight at the Griffin. The heat in her cockpit began to rise, but she ignored it.
Her 'Mech landed in the soft mud, its feet sinking in slightly under the impact. Her heads up display blared a warning that she'd finally achieved a lock with her autocannon. She thumbed the trigger, sending a stream of shells into the body of the Griffin. There were flames and smoke as the other 'Mech reeled under the hits.
The Cavalier pilot recovered quickly, letting go with a salvo of LRMs just as Dawn was trying to adjust the heat sinks manually to bleed off the heat building up in the old 'Mech's cockpit. The missiles slammed into the Shadow Hawk's chest and both arms, shaking it like a doll. Gripping the joystick as a brace, Dawn weathered the hit.
She responded by firing her lasers, which sent javelins of red, yellow, and green light ripping across the space between the two 'Mechs. Some missed, others dug deeply into the Griffin, hitting it low in the torso. The Cavalier 'Mech twisted under the hits and began to run to her right, the pilot trying to maintain his distance. Again Dawn outguessed him. Also breaking into a run, she raced the Shadow Hawk across the field of mud and death, heading directly for the Griffin. He does not understand, this Cavalier. He does not know that I will fight to the death if need be. In the end, it will be his undoing.
The Cavalier swung the massive PPC in her direction. For a moment everything seemed to move in slow motion for Dawn. It had happened this way once before, back on Tukayyid. From her cockpit she saw a flash of light and a wave of impact striking her Shadow Hawk like a massive stake being driven into its heart. The 'Mech tottered back slightly under the hit, losing some of its speed and momentum as the PPC blasted a huge hole in its chest.
A wave of heat washed over her as the temperature in the cockpit suddenly spiked. But Dawn kept her concentration, bearing down on the Griffin. When the targeting and tracking system squealed again, she opened up with the autocannon and a barrage of short-range missiles. We are too close for him to use the PPC. Now it will be settled in the way of the Clans, warrior to warrior.
The missiles rippled the armor plating off the Griffin's right arm like a fruit being peeled. Some of the autocannon rounds missed their mark altogether while others slammed into the chest and other arm of the Cavalier 'Mech. The pilot hesitated slightly, unsure whether to break and run or turn and fight. That pause would cost him dearly.
Dawn suffered no such hesitation. She charged, plowing into the Griffin at more than 80 kph, the impact sounding like something between a hovercar crash and massive bones breaking. The noise was all around her as the Shadow Hawk's shoulder dug into and through the Griffin's torso. She was thrown back into the command seat with incredible fury, but kept her 'Mech upright, spinning to the left slightly as the Cavalier lost his balance. The Griffin seemed to fly backward and down, burrowing into the muck and spraying mud in every direction.
Dawn's damage monitor told her what the charge had cost her. The Hawk's right arm was nearly exposed raw, stripped of its armor. Her shoulder actuator seemed to be sending the battle computer mixed signals that it was both on and off line at the same time. Either way, she didn't trust it. The heat in the cockpit was so stifling that the air seemed to sear her lungs. Drawing every breath was a battle, but she prevailed. Taking a few seconds to let the 'Mech cool slightly, she gathered her wits and her sense of where her foe was.
The Griffin was only a few scant meters distant as she locked her cross hairs onto its mauled form. While the laser began to preheat, she told herself that one good volley would end this contest, leaving her the victor. She waited, hoping to cool the Shadow Hawk a bit more before opening fire again, when suddenly her targeting system began to crackle.
She reached for the controls as a flickering wave of snow came off and on again and again. In the next few moments Dawn tried numerous combinations of adjustments as the Griffin pilot attempted to rise, but she couldn't get the system to clear. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a yellow light on her communication panel and understood.
Mordoc told me they cheated. She had seen the same kind of pattern on a targeting and tracking system once before, on Tukayyid when she had faced off against two platoons of Com Guard infantry. A jamming device with very limited range was being used on her 'Mech, interfering with her ability to fight. Whoever it is, they must be close, in the bleachers or the technician pits.
Not waiting for a weapons lock she manually eyed up a shot and fired her short-range missiles. Only one of them hit, burying itself in a hole her charge had already opened in the Griffin's armor. For a millisecond Dawn wondered if the warhead was a dud, when suddenly it erupted from inside the superstructure of the other 'Mech. There was a deep groaning, then a flash of flames and huge billows of smoke from the hole. Dawn ignored it, still trying to adjust her targeting system to compensate for the jamming. It was a failing effort.
Despite the hit, the Griffin pilot was still trying to get his 'Mech back on its feet. The parts of his machine not covered in mud spewed smoke and fire as he attempted to rise in the muck of the arena. Dawn knew she had to act, and act quickly. Bringing the Shadow Hawk to point-blank range, she drew back the massive reinforced foot, and kicked the Griffin with everything she had.
The kick mauled some of the armor on her own 'Mech's foot, but she'd dug a massive gouge in the Griffin's leg. The Cavalier once again
lost control of his 'Mech, which fell on its side, facing her. Dawn could see the damage and knew there was little the pilot could do, even with her targeting system being jammed.
Then came the lightning-like flash of the Griffin's PPC.
The blast hammered her torso hard, the armor shattering like ice under the blow. Her ears rang from feedback to her neurohelmet, and her eyes felt as if they wanted to push out of her head. She fought the wave of the impact, leaning into it to kill its momentum and push. The restraining straps dug into her chest, and the cooling vest felt as if it was being ripped off her by the force of the hit. In an instant Dawn knew what had happened. The Cavalier had cut off the field inhibitors that prevented the PPC from firing at close range. There was a good chance the weapon would be destroyed in such an attack, fused into a massive slug of ferro-titanium, but it did allow him to fire at incredibly deadly ranges.
And this time it had paid off. A glance at the secondary monitor told her that her left-side armor was all but gone and that the autocannon normally slung there was now missing, ripped off and tossed behind her into the mud. He fights like a filthy bandit, jamming my weapons system from the crowd. I offered him a fair trial, a contest of equals, and this is how he respects the rules. This man is no warrior. He has no honor. What I do now, I do for the betterment of his stable.
Dawn closed the ten-meter distance in less than a step and a half of the Shadow Hawk's massive feet. In front of her was the Griffin, trying to stand or line her up for another shot, both efforts doomed to failure. She was near the helmet-like head of the fallen 'Mech, out of reach of the PPC. Again, she raised one of the Shadow Hawk's feet over the Griffin's cockpit. She could imagine what it must feel like to be on the other side of that foot, looking up and seeing tons of metal about to drive in on top of you.
But still the Cavalier fought back, opening up with his long-range missile rack. Fortunately for Dawn, the warheads did not have time to arm. Most shot up past the Shadow Hawk, missing totally. The small number that hit did not explode, but simply nudged her as she stood.
Then Dawn drove the 'Mech's giant foot down into the Griffin's cockpit, smashing through it.
Nothing could have survived the attack. Dozens of tons pushed to incredible speeds flattened the cockpit of the Cavalier. From high up in the her own cockpit Dawn watched it all—the small fires that broke out around her foot, the different colors of smoke that drifted out of the hole where the Cavalier warrior had piloted the 'Mech. He never had a chance.
Dawn had never intended for him to.
To her it made perfect sense, was completely logical. This freebirth was inferior. Jamming her and preventing her from using her weapons systems, he did not fight fair. Even had he tried to surrender, Dawn doubted she would have accepted it. This warrior was not worthy of survival. Yet she had given him something he didn't deserve, a death in combat. In doing so she had served Carmody's Cavaliers as much as her own stable. His destruction meant that his genes would not pass to another generation. Still, he had died with some degree of honor—on the battlefield—as all true warriors dreamed of doing.
Mordoc met Dawn as she jumped to the ground from the leg of the Shadow Hawk. Some cheers rose from the nearby stands, but she also heard the sound of booing and hissing. Dawn was unsure what to make of the gathering, the lower castes coming to pass judgment on her prowess as a warrior. She looked up at them and then back at Mordoc, hoping that the stable master could tell her how to respond.
"I wanted you to win, but I didn't think you'd kill the guy in the process." he said, patting her on the back.
"One of his comrades was jamming my targeting and tracking system. He continued to fight in an effort to take advantage of that. It was a mark of dishonor. That is why I destroyed him."
"I suspected that old man Carmody might try something like this," Mordoc said. "Are you all right?"
"I am ready to serve."
"You've already done quite enough tonight, Dawn. The biggest problem we're going to have from this point on is keeping the Cavaliers from killing you out of revenge."
"They would do that?"
"Yes, in a heartbeat. That was no ordinary pilot you offed back there. That was Jay J. Carmody, son of the old man. He's lost his boy, and after tonight, half his funds. He's going to be gunning for revenge in a big bad nasty way."
To Dawn, the concept of revenge killing was something to be handled in a ritual manner, between warriors in an honor duel. How different was this new world she'd entered, how alien. If they even had the concept of honor, they viewed it far differently from the way of the Clans.
* * *
Hermann Bovos rose from his seat in the stands and watched as the drunken crowd went wild. The man next to him stood too, looking down on the shattered and mud-covered remains of the Griffin. He rolled up the betting sheet and stuffed it into his coat pocket.
"Thank you for meeting me here," Bovos told him. "Claire said you might have some information for me."
The man did not answer the question. "Claire doesn't usually do favors of this kind."
Bovos smiled slightly. He hadn't really understood why Claire Lieb decided to help him, but he wasn't about to question it. "Let's just say that she and I are friends."
"Sure," the other man said, looking around as the crowd thinned rapidly around them. Reassured that no one could overhear, he spoke again. "Claire said you're looking for somebody Who's been doing some serious recruiting here recently. Well, I think I've got a line on someone like that. The word on the street is that they'll be back in a week or so looking for more warriors. I also hear they want to hire several companies worth of troops, full units if they can find them."
Bovos's heart raced. These were probably the same people who'd hit the Hussars, who'd wiped out his lance and left him for dead. Finally, he would get a chance at them, a chance to get inside their operation. His mind danced with the possibilities.
"I appreciate the tip," he said.
The man shook his head. "Listen to me, kid. If I was you, I'd stay away from these guys. I hear they're bad trouble."
"Out of the question."
"Then you'd better get tied up with a lance or company of 'Mechs real quick-like. Otherwise you ain't going along."
14
Galaport
Galatea
Skye March, Federated Commonwealth
15 May 3057
From the stands Duncan Kalma and some of his men sat watching the 'Mechs preparing for the coming bout. The one down below and in front of them was a late-model Crusader. Judging by the patchwork of armor replacements that were unpainted but in place, the 'Mech had obviously been refitted several times in its career. Technicians crawled over, around, and under it, quickly opening small access panels, checking them, then securing them shut. The pilot, a virtual unknown on Galatea, was already inside the cockpit. Duncan said little, taking occasional sips from a bottle of beer.
He was thinking that the Knights had, for the most part, adapted well to their mission since arriving on Galatea. He'd spent a few days bringing them into the city in small groups, staying close until he was sure they could hold their own and maintain their cover. Then he left them to the task of frequenting various MechWarrior haunts to learn what they could and make their presence known on Galatea. They'd also gotten rooms at the Starspan Hotel, which would give them a base of operations other than the DropShip.
Trane, at Duncan's bidding, had begun to spread the word that Raima's Company was looking to hire three MechWarriors to fill out its last lance, a rumor that was making them something of local celebrities among the many unemployed Mech Warriors in Galaport. Duncan didn't jump too quickly to hire any of them. He was looking for certain kind of people—ones that seemed trustworthy and might fit in well with their current mix.
Duncan glanced up as someone he didn't know extended his hand in greeting. The newcomer was a big man, but by his combat gloves and the way his head was shaved in several places to allow neurohelme
t contacts, he was obviously a MechWarrior.
"You Duncan Kalma?" the man asked.
Duncan nodded and shook the man's hand.
"I hear you're hiring. That true?"
"Maybe," Duncan said.
"Well, if it is, I'm looking to sign on."
Duncan studied the man's face for a moment. "Where'd you serve last?"
"Free Worlds League."
Duncan knew when to play his cards close to his chest, and this was one of those times. "You don't say? What unit?"
"Hussars. Second Oriente Hussars."
Duncan recognized the unit, having read all about it in the SAFE briefings prior to Herotitus. Again, he didn't let it show. "Have a seat," he said as Karl Villiers shifted over slightly on the bench to make room.
"You got a name?" he asked.
The man smiled, "Bovos. Hermann Bovos."
"I'm Duncan Kalma, CO of Kalma's Company. How'd you hear we were hiring?"
Bovos shrugged. "Word gets around. They say you've got close to a company of 'Mechs but still need a few more jocks."
Duncan nodded. "That's right. And once we're up to speed, we'll be looking for some contracts. You say you were with the Second Oriente Hussars?"
Bovos nodded warily. "I was a Lieutenant and lance commander."
"Pretty tough unit. They practically wrote the book on fast recon operations, if my memory is on target."
"One of the best, Mister Kalma."
"Call me Duncan, Hermann. Mister Kalma is my father. How long were you with the Hussars?"
Bovos smiled. "Eight years." Then he added, "And you can call me Bovos."
"Pretty good stint. Why'd you leave?" Duncan took a long drink on his beer, which was growing warm.
"Personal reasons," Bovos said.
Duncan nodded, but his mind fidgeted with the information and wondered if it were true. If it was possible this guy had actually tangled with those raiders on Shiro III, Duncan was sure he wanted him. "Well, Bovos, you might just fit the bill. Why don't we meet later, somewhere where we can sit down and talk? Listen, do you know a place called Lulu's near the old hiring hall?"
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