Ideal War

by Christopher Kubasik

  Masters scrambled painfully up the last few rungs and hurled himself into his cockpit and pulled the hatch shut. He grabbed his cooling vest and snugged the neurohelmet over his head just as Spinard slammed the axe against the rear torso of the Phoenix Hawk. The 'Mech started to fall forward even as Masters began to voice the secret code.

  As the 'Mech's engines fired up, his fingers flew over the controls. The horizon rushed past as the machine toppled, the ground looming closer and closer. He threw one of the Phoenix Hawk's legs out to break the fall, then pushed the throttle forward, using the momentum of the fall to get into a quick run. Masters knew a three-against-one fight would be difficult, but he also knew he could outmaneuver all the other Mech Warriors. He might make it.

  He glanced at his monitor and saw only Spinard's Hatchetman moving; Valentine and Belgrade probably hadn't gotten to their 'Mechs yet. Should he take the opportunity to damage their 'Mechs before they were even in them? It wasn't the warrior code he and Thomas honored, but it seemed a shame to let the opportunity pass. Smiling to himself, he decided they were ruffians—red knights who deserved a few bad breaks.

  Continuing across Padang's fields Masters turned the Phoenix Hawk from the waist up. Then he dropped his targeting cross hairs over Valentine's Blackjack. All he wanted was to damage its movement enough that he wouldn't have three 'Mechs on him. When the cross hairs was over the Blackjack's right leg, he pushed the blue button and a red laser bolt shot through the air.

  While the bolt hit the leg and was burning away some armor, he pressed the green button on his joystick, firing two short-range missiles. The missiles struck home, and the outer armor of the Blackjack's leg flew off, revealing a shredded actuator.

  With the temperature in the cockpit rising sharply, Masters checked his heat monitors. He could still take a few shots at Belgrade's 'Mech and then be off. Even if he ran, within a matter of minutes the heat sinks would take care of the extra heat from the shots, if he managed it correctly.

  Suddenly laser bolts shot past him to his right. Looking back he realized Spinard was shooting at him. Then an autocannon shell exploded against his 'Mech's back, tossing him forward. He hadn't strapped himself in, and the blow slammed him into the thick window of the faceplate. The impact made his right shoulder go numb. As he struggled to disentangle himself and get back into the seat, the Phoenix Hawk ran forward blindly, the throttle still halfway up.

  He repositioned himself and brought the 'Mech's speed down by half and jabbed the left foot pedal. The 'Mech turned sharply and he saw another autocannon shell fly past him. He accelerated again, rushing past the Hatchetman, thinking to get a shot at Belgrade's Shadow Hawk before the other man could fight back.

  In the distance he saw Chick's hovercraft flying away, pursued, or followed, by the Fourth Squad's hovercraft.

  As he came back toward the town proper Masters saw Valentine's Blackjack come alive, its arms lifting up to shoulder level. From launch tubes built into the monster's chest she fired four short-range missiles. Masters dragged his throttle back and tapped the reverse button. Valentine's missiles rushed straight at him, at cockpit level, and he saw them as blue orbs with red-orange auras. He pushed the throttle forward and the 'Mech took two quick steps back. As he'd expected, she'd given them a good lead, and the four missiles rushed by, one so close it left a wide, faint smoke trail across his window.

  Without pause he pulled the throttle back again and tapped the reverse button once more. Now, as he pushed the throttle up, he moved forward slowly, giving the opposition a false lead, then suddenly he slammed full throttle. The Phoenix Hawk raced across the fields of Padang, the soft soil giving way every so often, a sudden lurch here and there.

  Now Belgrade's 'Mech woke from its mechanical slumber. Masters' plan hadn't quite worked out—the 'Mechs were all up. Time for the straight run. His only chance lay in getting far enough away from the 'Mechs that they couldn't hit him. He pushed his throttle full forward and raced for a sea of yellow-leafed trees. Valentine's 'Mech would be slowed, so the other two could either wait for her or come after him by themselves. Two-to-one odds were better than three to one, and so far his situation was good.

  He took a moment in his straight run to slip on his harness. The wound in his side stung, but didn't seem serious. His shoulder, however, hurt like blazes, and moving around to pilot the 'Mech aggravated the pain.

  He glanced down and saw blood, far too much of it, trickling down his arm, covering it like paint.

  More shots flew by him, red lasers and fiery tails of missiles. A straight run would give them too easy a lead on targeting, so he cut his speed by a quarter and began veering left and then right. The turns came wide, but they were enough to keep the shots away from him. Then, before they could get used to his new movement, he cut his speed again, and made tighter turns more frequently.

  He glanced at his monitor. Belgrade and Spinard ran together, leaving Valentine further and further behind, the shots to her leg a drag on her speed. He rushed toward the tree line, hoping to find some escape route within the maze of massive trees. He had no guarantees, but neither had he any other choice.

  A terrible thought occurred to him. Like the mercs hired by the countess, he was trapped on Gibson. Where could he possibly go?

  No time. He rushed into the woods, the bright sunlight suddenly dimmed by the thick canopy of yellow leaves high overhead. The giant tree trunks formed winding avenues, most of which ended in dead ends. He could knock down the trees if he found himself in a natural cul de sac, but the trees looked strong and deeply rooted. Too many blows would eventually wear down his armor.

  Laser bolts ripped into a tree to his right, followed by more shots as portions of the trees to either side of him exploded in pulpy shards. Taking a quick look at his monitor, he saw Belgrade and Spinard closing quickly.

  A series of blasts rocked his 'Mech. Punching up his armor display, Masters found that laser fire had chewed up half his rear torso armor. The boys behind him must have been heating up their 'Mechs pretty fierce to get so many shots off. In response he threw his 'Mech into high speed, hoping the excessive heat would hamper their speeds and piloting ability.

  At the higher speed he had less control over the 'Mech's turning ability, and so the Phoenix Hawk's shoulders and head sometimes slammed into low branches as he raced it through the woods. Leaning his own body back and forth and side to side with the 'Mech, Masters strained to keep his eye on as many facets of the terrain as possible: massive roots lying across his path, deep gullies, and piles of large, loose stones.

  Twice, and then a third time, he nearly slammed full into a tree. The first time he veered just in time. Next he stopped just short of the tree, then turned and moved past it. The third time, he misjudged his approach slamming the 'Mech's shoulder into the tree, uprooting it slightly and sending a violent reverberation through the cockpit. The collision nearly knocked him over, but he regained his balance and kept moving.

  On the monitor Masters saw Belgrade and Spinard quickly losing ground, with Valentine already far behind. It would work. If the forest was just large enough, he'd be able to get far enough away to be out of range, power down, and hide. He switched off his communication and sensor system, there being no one he wanted to talk to. The three 'Mechs behind him vanished from the display. That didn't matter. He didn't care where they were, just as long as they were behind him. What did matter was that they couldn't see him on their screens, either. They were trapped using visuals to find him, and soon he'd be out of their visual range.

  But then, ahead, he saw that the forest grew lighter, and more than that, actually was sparkling. A tremor of fear ran through his chest as he realized the woods were about to end only a few hundred meters away.

  He stormed out of the thick trees and found himself on flat, open swamp land at the edge of a broad lake. He craned his neck, looking over the terrain. The swamp extended around the lake, and was bracketed by steep, rocky hills. His shelter had vanished.
If he was going to make it, he'd have to clear the hills before his pursuers arrived. That might do it.

  The Phoenix Hawk's heat was completely under control. Now, with no chance of staying out of sight, he decided to use his jump jets to cover more ground between here and the steep hills. He turned west and hit the controls. With a growing rush, the rockets built into his 'Mech's legs accelerated, forcing him deep into the command couch. The Phoenix Hawk blasted up and forward, cutting through the air in a low arc, the jets burning white as they lifted away from the shallow swamp water. Masters relaxed, letting his balance take over. As it did, he maneuvered the 'Mech's legs slightly forward to brace him as he came down.

  The Phoenix Hawk landed with a smash in the shallow water, the 'Mech sinking up to its knees in the swamp muck. That was both good and bad. Good because the water helped dissipate the heat from the jump quickly. Bad, because it would take a moment for Masters to leverage himself out of the holes he had just dug and to make another jump.

  Anyone nearby would be able to see him clearly as he flew through the air, so he decided to turn on his sensors and find out how the opposition was doing. As the monitor flickered to life, he saw the blue squares representing Belgrade and Spinard's 'Mechs adjust their course and head after him through the forest. He had to switch to the long-range screen to find Valentine, who was far behind, but not far enough.

  He used the neurohelmet's control abilities rather than the throttle to get his legs out of the mud, because the helmet allowed finer control of motion. As he thought about the motion he wanted the 'Mech's legs to make, he made slight, similar motions with his own legs. He did not need to completely mimic the actions he wanted, just enough of them for the neurohelmet to receive the impulse of movement from the brain. It was tricky business; too much movement and thought, and the 'Mech's motions became erratic and wild, a high-step kick reminiscent of a showgirl—and likely to send the 'Mech tumbling onto its back. Too little movement and thought, and the 'Mech remained still and silent. A Mech Warrior had to know just how much motion and thought was required in any given circumstances. Right now, with several meters of 'Mech plunked down in the mud, he needed more than the usual movement, but he would have to slow down once the leg cleared the mud.

  With his years of 'Mech piloting to guide him, Masters quickly cleared the mud and stepped onto higher swamp ground. He sank a little, but not much. Two more jumps would get him to the hills. Once more he thumbed the jump jet controls, and again flew into the air and again sank into the mud.

  The shots against his back came unexpectedly even as he sank. They were coming sooner than he'd expected, missiles raining against the Phoenix Hawk, rocking him back and forth. Somewhere in the barrage a good hit got through, making a red light on his board start to blink on and off. It was paramount that he get moving. He was far enough away still that he'd be a difficult target if he could get free, but as long as he remained in the mud . . .

  They closed on him, covering the distance carefully, avoiding the predicament in which Masters found himself. Closer and closer . . .

  Masters brought up his 'Mech's right leg and placed it down ahead of him. Laser fire crashed in around him. The shots tore up his back so much that he had to stop his progress in the muck to twist his 'Mech's torso toward Belgrade and Spinard in a way that put his fresher armor up against their shots. And as long as they were in view . . .

  He brought up his cross hairs against Belgrade, needing only to float the yellow circle a little as the 'Mech walked toward him. Masters might be trapped and standing still, but Belgrade's direct approach offered an almost equally sitting target. He depressed each of the joystick's triggers in succession, sending a barrage of missiles, heavy lasers, and pulse lasers at the other 'Mech. Belgrade had already begun to break to the right, which was exactly where Masters had expected him to go. The shots slammed home, sending a wash of sparks out the 'Mech's right arm.

  Having done some damage to the opposition, Masters returned his attention to getting out of the mud. He concentrated, calming himself against the shots being fired at him, focusing only on his 'Mech's movements. First the right, then the left.

  He was free.

  He looked at his monitor—What?

  Four more 'Mechs had suddenly appeared, and somewhere off to the left—

  Instinctively looking in that direction, he saw only water. But no, there was something, a slight shimmer in the lake. And then steam began to rise off the surface of the water, like heat off a gun. . . .

  Part 3

  BATTLES

  17

  Padang, Gibson

  Principality of Gibson, Free Worlds League

  6 February 3055

  A 'Mech lance waited hidden in the lake, revealing itself now as it warmed up quickly.

  Another series of shots rocked Masters' Phoenix Hawk, a red light flashed, and he saw that Spinard had severed the power cables to his large laser. He assumed the new 'Mechs were Word of Blake, and knew he had to get out now. As he sent his 'Mech sprinting across the swamp, three-meter-high plumes of dark water splashed up and around the legs. He torso-twisted to get a look at the lake again. Four 'Mechs rose out of the water, a Crusader, a Catapult, a Rifleman, and a Quickdraw. Water cascaded down their metal surfaces, obscuring their colors. But after a moment, Masters saw orange and black swirls—Regulus!

  Each 'Mech had small differentiations in patterns, indicating four different regiments, but each was from the Principality of Regulus. What were they doing here?

  Even as he continued running his 'Mech for the hills, Masters' mind continued to puzzle out the question. What if Regulus was backing the GFL, as the Countess had joked, expressing the Regulans' opposition to Thomas through a backwater fight on Gibson. It would make a kind of sense: Gibson and the True Believers were a testing ground for Thomas' policies.

  The water around the Crusader boiled fiercely and the 'Mech rose straight out of it on its jump jets. It lifted slowly at first, then sailed up and through the air to close the distance between the lake and Masters in his Phoenix Hawk.

  Masters turned forward again and raced as quickly as he could, but the Crusader splashed into the mud just ahead of him. He made a sharp left to avoid the 'Mech, but before he could get out of range, the Crusader swung up its right arm and slammed it into the Phoenix Hawk's cockpit. A terrible CLANG! reverberated throughout the cockpit, and Masters was thrown first to the right and then the left. As the Phoenix Hawk began listing to the left, he slowed the 'Mech to keep it under control.

  More shots slammed into his 'Mech's back, and a series of red lights blinked on the command console.

  With the damage he'd already taken, it didn't look good.

  Turning back around toward the Crusader, Masters saw the other three Regulan 'Mechs engaging Spinard and Belgrade. He just had time to see a series of autocannon shots rip into Belgrade's already damaged leg.

  Masters charged the Crusader, reconfiguring his weapon systems as his 'Mech ran forward. He knew that the latest model Crusader was equipped with antimissile systems which would render his missiles nearly useless, so he plugged all his lasers into the green and blue thumb buttons.

  The Crusader fired a laser barrage, which flew way off to the right of Masters' cockpit. As he closed on the Crusader, he pulled back on the joystick until the cross hairs dropped down onto the Crusader's head. He knew he'd get only one good shot on this pass, and decided to close to where he could not possibly miss. His breathing was even and relaxed, every action smooth and calm. But even with all his training and experience, he muttered the word "Please" in a kind of little sigh of a prayer as his thumb hovered over the triggers.

  The massive head of the Crusader loomed next to the Phoenix Hawk, filling the window of his faceplate. Jabbing the green and blue buttons on the joystick, he fired the 'Mech's large laser and pulse lasers directly into the Crusader's head. The beams ripped through the armor and tore huge rifts across the cockpit. As Masters passed the Crusader, a bri
ght orange flash erupted beside him.

  He traveled another hundred meters and turned a wide arc back toward the other 'Mech. The Crusader's head burned with bright flames, and the body wobbled slightly. Then the left torso exploded, torn open by a tremendous fireball. The 'Mech fell over backward, huge waves of dark water splashing up around it.

  Masters turned quickly back to the other 'Mechs. Spinard's Hatchetman was already down. The other three Regulan 'Mechs ran wildly around Belgrade, blasting him with a barrage of missiles and beams.

  Masters felt torn in two directions: either he could make another attempt at escape or he could help Belgrade. Much as he wanted to escape from the Word of Blake 'Mechs, he didn't want to leave them in the hands of the Regulans.

  After a brief moment of deliberation he charged into the melee. At the same moment, the Rifleman turned toward him and raised its large lasers. As Masters made a sharp left, the blasts glanced off his armor. Beginning another zig-zag run, he saw Belgrade's 'Mech collapse.

  The monitor showed him Valentine rushing forward in her Blackjack. With his back torso armor hanging on by the rivets, Masters decided a retreat was in order. Piloting back toward the forest, he jabbed the blue comm button and said, "Blackjack One, this is Phoenix Hawk One. We've encountered Regulan 'Mechs."

  "This is Blackjack One," Valentine replied in a distinctly dry tone. "Whatever you say, Phoenix Hawk One." He knew she didn't believe him. She had no reason to think he wasn't working with the Regulans at this point. On his monitor he saw her change course, moving to intercept him.

  As he rushed into the forest, the Regulans continued to assault his back with a storm of beams and missiles. Stray shots sent branches down on his 'Mech and across his path.