Justin reached out with his right hand and firmly grasped the targeting joystick jutting up from the command chair’s arm. The red button on top triggered his autocannon, and the trigger under his index finger would fire the forward medium laser. Justin swallowed hard and found his mouth suddenly dry.
The gold crosshairs on his viewscreen hovered at the right edge of his forward view. Though the sensors and neurohelmet provided him with full, 360-degree vision, almost undetectable lines broke the circle into parts corresponding to his firing arcs. If he tried to target something outside a weapon’s arc, the crosshairs would lose all intensity.
Do I wait until he has walked past me and then hit him from behind? Do I attack straight on and give him a chance? That would be the honorable thing. Justin narrowed his eyes. The man belongs to Hanse Davion. He deserves no honor.
Slowly, and with a stealth ridiculous for such a large machine, the Griffin inched into sight. Humanoid, with two fully manipulable hands, it looked much like a jump trooper dressed in bulky space armor. Its pistol-like PPC rested casually in its right hand. The LRM launch canister riding on its right shoulder moved up and down in fits and starts as Armstrong sighted it on probable targets ahead.
Justin laughed. This was the first time he’d ever seen a ’Mech swagger! He reached out and flicked his external speakers on.
“It’s over before it begins, Armstrong!” Justin brought the Centurion to its feet, and extended the autocannon’s muzzle at the Griffin.
The Griffin opened its arms wide. “Take your best shot, yellow dog.” For the cameras, Armstrong made the Griffin shake its head, as though in pity. “I’ll let you die fast, Xiang.”
Justin’s thumb stabbed down on the fire button. The Pontiac Autocannon/20 for which he’d sacrificed his LRMs and installed in place of the Luxor, spat out a cloud of projectiles. Like metal locusts, they stripped the Griffin’s forward armor. Metal and ceramic chaff rained down around the Griffin’s legs as the Centurion’s medium laser skewered it. A wave of amber heat washed out of the middle of Armstrong’s machine as the laser melted some of the engine’s shielding. The ’Mech shuddered, too, which Justin hoped was an indication that the gyro had also been damaged.
Badly shaken, Armstrong triggered all his weapons. Fire shot from the missile canister as each LRM took flight. Six of them hit and tore armor from the Centurion’s right side. The errant rockets detonated behind the Centurion, scattering scrap metal and shattering ferrocrete blocks in fiery explosions.
Armstrong then snapped his PPC into line with the Centurion’s chest. The charging coils glowed for a second, giving Justin enough time to switch the scanners from heat to visual before the lightning could burn out the sensors. The artificial lightning bolt stabbed out toward the Centurion, but crackled off above it with Armstrong’s hasty shot. It struck a rusty I-beam and reduced it to a puddle of slag.
Justin redirected the autocannon and caressed the firing button with his thumb. The Centurion shook violently as the autocannon vomited another metal blizzard at the Griffin. The swarm of projectiles ate into the Griffin’s right arm, peeling armor from it like rind from a naranji. Myomer fiber strands in the ’Mech’s hand snapped apart, and the PPC’s charging coil exploded in a burst of argent fire. The weapon fell smoldering to the ground.
Justin’s laser stabbed deep into the Griffin’s heart. Fire boiled through the ’Mech’s chest, spitting out pieces of melted and broken circuit boards. The ’Mech wavered and stumbled back, but Armstrong fought to gain control. Reaching back with its left hand, the Griffin steadied itself as fire geysered from its torso.
Justin waited for the canopy to split and for Armstrong to eject. The ’Mech is lost! Your engine’s shielding is gone! Get out! He watched the Griffin’s LRM canister swivel toward the Centurion, then cant back as the ’Mech went out of control. Instead of flying at Justin, a full flight of LRMs launched into the ceiling.
The Griffin’s black faceplate exploded outward. Flames spouted from it as though the ’Mech were a fire-breathing monster. Again the LRM canister blasted away blindly at the ceiling. Debris and ferrocrete crashed down in huge chunks onto the Griffin. Unsteadied, Armstrong’s Griffin dropped straight down, as though its legs had been suddenly cut from under it. It now leaned back pitifully against the Factory’s ferrocrete wall.
Justin shook his head slowly. If not for the fires burning in its chest and head, the huge ’Mech might have resembled a man sleeping peacefully against the wall. He balled his Centurion’s left hand into a fist. Perhaps someday I, too, will know such peace.
Chapter 23
SOLARIS VII
RAHNESHIRE
LYRAN COMMONWEALTH
20 MARCH 3027
Noton tossed Justin a towel as he came out of the cleaner. “Risky business substituting the Pontiac 100 for the Luxor,” he said, seating himself on the narrow wooden bench beside Justin’s locker. “Doubles your firepower, but severely cuts your range. Especially because you sacrificed your LRMs for it. Yen-Lo-Wang is a fine infighter, and the surprise worked well in the Factory, but anyone else will kill you with LRMs and PPC fire.”
Justin finished drying off and wrapped the towel around his waist. He pressed it to himself with his inert left hand while he tucked it in with his right. “Calculated risk, Gray. That’s something you understand, isn’t it?”
Noton leaned back against the wall. “I don’t know that I follow you…”
Justin smiled and swung open his locker door. He reached in and pulled a plastic comb from the top shelf, then pressed it into his left hand and painstakingly sculpted the fingers to hold the comb securely. Watching himself in the flyblown mirror, he used it to slick down his hair.
“Gray, I’ve only been here a month, but I know your type.”
Noton raised an eyebrow. “My type?”
Justin nodded. “You know that fighting in the arenas is a dead end. You’ve not fought in a while—or so the record of public fights shows—but you’ve got a Typhoon and powerful friends. You’re shrewd.” Justin looked over at the information broker. “I’d like to think I’m shrewd, too.”
A third voice broke in on the conversation. “It wasn’t too shrewd, Xiang, to ignore our advice to you about the fight.”
Justin turned and lowered his hand. Three men—two large men flanking a smaller, slightly older man—stood just inside the door. The smaller man chomped on a cigar and pointed a thick finger at Justin. “You cost me money tonight.”
Justin shook his head. “You cost you money tonight. I told you I’d not throw the fight. You should have listened.”
“No, Xiang, you should have listened.” The little man snapped his fingers. Balling their fists, his twin goons stepped forward. “Rock, Jeff, tear his arm off and break his legs with it.”
Justin dropped into a crouch and swept in toward the two thugs. Leaping up, he snapped a kick to Rock’s face. With his jaw shattered and his nose leaking blood, Rock toppled backward. Collapsing like a rag doll, he smacked his head hard on the ferrocrete floor.
When Jeff swung a fist at Justin, the MechWarrior grabbed the thug’s wrist with his right hand and lifted it up and over his own head. Without relinquishing his grip, Justin pivoted beneath the hoodlum’s arm and brought the wrist twisting back with him. Justin locked the arm, then snapped his own left forearm down on Jeff’s elbow. The joint cracked audibly as it broke, but the thug’s scream of pain swallowed the sound.
Justin released the goon and vaulted over the other incapacitated hood. He grabbed the small man by the throat and drove him back to the wall. Twisting his own hip so that the man could not kick or knee him, he waited until his foe’s labored breath was the only sound either of them could hear.
Justin stared mercilessly into the smaller man’s eyes. “Listen to me now, because I will not tell you again. If you ever try to fix one of my fights, I will ruin you financially, then I’ll kill you in degrees.” Justin raised his left hand and wished, for a moment, that the comb h
ad dropped away during the fight. “I’ve picked up soldiers in a ’Mech’s hand, and I know how delicate those devices can be. I also know how rough they can get. I assure you that you don’t want to have personal knowledge of their roughness, ni you dong?”
The bookie shook his head fervently. “I understand, wo dong.”
Justin smiled coldly and relaxed his grip. “Hao. Zou kai yi‑jing!” He released the man and jerked a thumb at the two goons. “And take them with you. I never want to see you again. If I do, I’ll kill you.”
Noton refrained from laughing as Jeff and the bookie dragged the unconscious thug from the room. He sputtered a chuckle when the door finally shut behind them, then shook his head. “I thought you said you were shrewd. Now, how was that shrewd?”
Justin pulled on a blue and black silken coat, which hung to just below the waistband of his black trousers. He carefully adjusted the cuff of the left sleeve over the glove covering his metal hand, then tied the blue sash around his waist and let the long ends dangle down at his left hip. Pulling on his boots, he looked over at Noton.
“That will make the Federats here on Solaris more angry. It guarantees me more fights and larger purses. You and I both know that fights here are not combats as much as they are theatrical spectacles. If I’m to fight battles with high purses, I have to be someone that the spectators can either love or hate. Doing things to make the Federats’ blood boil is money in the bank.”
Noton stood. “Is that why you’ve taken up with Kym?”
Justin smiled and nodded acknowledgment of Noton’s perception. “You mean, has the idea of a Capellan lying with a Davion woman—and the anger it must arouse in men like Capet—ever occurred to me? I’d be lying if I said no.” Justin looked up. “You realize, of course, that she sought me out for the same reason, don’t you?”
Noton nodded. “I saw that from the first.”
“I’m sure you did.” Justin swung his rusty locker shut and spun the combination. “We both started out using each other to get back at the people in the Federated Suns.” Justin smiled sheepishly. “But, as exiles, we share a bond that seems to knit us together tightly. Back in the Federated Suns, I’d never have gotten to know her, but now I believe I may actually be in love with her.”
“I envy you,” Noton said with a smile. Then he opened the locker room door for Justin. “Kym’s bringing my Typhoon around. Next stop, Valhalla!”
The darkened glass door opened onto a silent Valhalla as Noton, Justin, and Kym approached. MechWarriors were seated up and down the length of the tables running through the center of the long hall. Each had his head bent forward, as though in prayer. Up on the dais, sandwiched between Billy Wolfson and Philip Capet, a chair sat hidden beneath a shroud of black satin.
“What is this?” Noton shouted laughingly. “Is this Valhalla, or is it a funeral home?”
Capet’s head snapped up as if on a spring. He glared at Noton, then flushed as his gaze fell on Justin. “You have gone too far, Noton, bringing that quisling scum in here!” Capet thrust an accusing finger at Justin Xiang. “There!” he shouted. “There is the Capellan traitor who killed Peter Armstrong. Look on him and see the face of a coward!”
“Coward!” Justin’s denial exploded from him. He released Kym’s hand and stalked forward. “Coward? No one in this room can call me that, least of all you, Capet.” Justin laughed and looked around as the curtains over many alcoves fell back. “I see you have not shared the secrets of your past with those here.”
Capet narrowed his eyes. “We have all seen the kind of liar and coward you are, Xiang. Vids of your trial played long and well here on Solaris. We heard how you abandoned your men to a Capellan ambush. Even your father admitted you were a spy. Why should anyone here believe anything you say?”
Justin nodded slowly. “Actions speak louder than words, Philip. When will you come after me?”
Capet hesitated, but no one noticed because Billy Wolfson shot to his feet. “He’ll not get the chance, slant. You defeated me because you took Fuh Teng’s place…”
“You mean I put up a fight!” Justin spat out the words at Wolfson, who colored visibly. Both shared the knowledge of the fix, and Wolfson burned with the shame of having been so careless.
Wolfson slammed a fist into the table. “I will kill you, Xiang! Rig up your ’Mech any way you can. It makes no difference to me. I’ll destroy you, no matter what!”
Justin nodded eagerly. “Done. Just don’t be as stupid as Armstrong.”
Wolfson glowered at Justin. “What?”
“Don’t believe what Capet tells you is the mark of a man.” Justin reached back and slipped his arm around Kym’s waist as she came forward. Off to his left, Noton pulled aside the curtain of his alcove, and waved the MechWarrior and his lady into the private booth.
Kym slid onto the bench and moved toward the center of the table. Gray took his place at the head of the table while Justin seated himself beside Kym. Noton touched a button and the wooden panel concealing the holovision screen slid up into the wall.
Noton waved at the screen. “Would you like to see a replay of your fight?”
Justin shook his head. “I’ve never enjoyed reviewing my performance. That goes double for those training tapes they loved to make at the Sakhara Academy.”
Noton nodded understandingly. “I agree, though I maintain a complete library of battles here. If you ever want to review the fights of an upcoming foe, please feel free to use this booth.”
That could be very useful. Justin nodded to his host. “Thank you, Gray.”
The three of them looked up as the curtain slid back slowly. A servant smiled sheepishly, saying, “Just a second, folks, and I’ll be gone.” He turned away, then swung a silver wine caddy into the booth. Condensed moisture ran down the shining exterior, and ice brimmed up over the top. Protruding from the ice pack was the neck of a wine bottle.
The servant produced three glasses and set them on the table. He also handed Noton a small envelope. Noton slid a thumbnail beneath the flap and withdrew the card. He turned it over, then handed it to Justin. “It’s in Capellan, which I can’t read.”
Justin accepted it wordlessly. When he had read it, he looked up with a smile. “It says, ‘The honor of the House of Xiang rises like the sun. My compliments. Signed, Tsen Shang.’” Justin glanced over at Noton. “A friend of yours?”
Noton nodded. “One of my shrewder friends, Justin. I’ll have to introduce you.” He looked over at the server and nodded for him to pour.
The young man smiled. “I hope you realize this is from Palos. Not only is it the best Capella has to offer, it’s the best in the Successor States. Mr. Shang had to ship this stuff in himself because we can’t get it here.” He stripped the lead foil from the cork and freed it of the wire cage. Carefully, he worked the cork loose, then covered the bottle with a cloth as he freed the cork with a muffled pop. The server poured for all three, then retreated silently.
Gray raised his glass. “To your skill and intelligence, Justin. May you live long here on Solaris, and get all that you desire.”
Justin, abstaining from drinking to a toast in his honor, waited for his friends to lower their glasses. “To my two friends,” he said, in turn raising his own glass. “May they help me to stay alive here on Solaris, and to get all that I desire.” Justin drank, very much enjoying the piquant sweetness of the wine.
He looked up at Noton. “This Tsen Shang must be well connected. I recall someone on Spica offering three bottles of this vintage to ransom his damaged Valkyrie.”
Noton smiled and set his empty glass down. “He’s well connected, indeed. He even owns two heavy ’Mechs, though he lacks a pilot.”
“Then we should meet, don’t you think?” Justin drained his glass. “After all, I’ll be needing a heavy ’Mech if I’m to kill Philip Capet.”
Chapter 24
SOLARIS VII
RAHNESHIRE
LYRAN COMMONWEALTH
20 MARCH 30
27
Darkness cloaked Kym Sorenson as she slipped out from under the thick coverlet. Rearranging the bedcovers, she bent down and drew the quilt up around Justin’s shoulders, then knelt to kiss him lightly on the forehead. “Sleep well, lover. I’ll be back soon.” A quick glance at the empty glass on his bedside table told her he’d not notice her absence.
Despite her confidence in the depth of Justin’s drugged sleep, Kym gathered up her clothing and carried it outside their room to dress. Over the garments she’d worn to the fight and to Valhalla, she pulled on a heavy coat and then tucked her golden hair up into a wide-brimmed hat.
Kym flipped up the collar of her coat against the wet, rainy wind as she left the villa and crossed to the Hurricane. At a touch, the door swung up and Kym slipped into the driver’s seat. The door descended and locked tight as she tapped the ignition code out onto the dashboard’s number pad. The engine hummed to life, and the Hurricane rose up on a cushion of air.
The lights of Solaris City sparkled like raindrops on a spider web of streets as Kym guided the Hurricane down from the hills of the Davion sector, known locally as the Black Hills. She steered the vehicle onto Bunyan Road, then brought it to a halt before a moderately well-kept apartment tower.
She hurried from her aircar to the glassed-in vestibule, where she pressed one particular button twice, waited for a three-count, and then pressed it four more times. While waiting for the tenant to open the door, she looked around anxiously but saw no one else in the outer darkness. With a rasp like that of an angry beast, a buzzer sounded, but stopped abruptly as Kym yanked open the door. She darted inside the building, but went no farther until she was sure the door had clicked shut behind her.
Instead of going to the lobby elevator, Kym turned to the fire door on her right. She opened it and stepped cautiously into a long, dimly lit corridor. Passing quickly through it, she reached the apartment building’s rear exit. From there, she slipped out into the dark alley behind the building.
Warrior: En Garde (The Warrior Trilogy, Book One): BattleTech Legends, #57 Page 19
