I am Jade Falcon

by Robert Thurston

  The first-floor ceiling had collapsed at one end, adding wood and metal to the debris piles there. What ceiling remained sagged over the middle of the room. It could fall at any moment—a spot of bad weather, a rumble in the ground, a passing BattleMech pounding with its heavy feet.

  A doorway in the far wall led to some stairs. Thinking it might be useful to scan the terrain from a second-story window, Joanna decided to go up to the next floor. Might not be safe, but what was life without risk?

  The stairs were rickety, like the stairways leading to mystery in dreams. Joanna took them two and three at a time, always ready to grab the railing on the left side of the stairwell, a railing that had come partially off its moorings. Despite a resounding crack given by one protesting step, she reached the top of the stairway safely. She still had at least two minutes before her next opponent entered the Circle. If she guessed right, it would be the silent Fredrich. Then Cholas would send in the wicked-looking Castilla.

  Pitted with holes, the floor spread out in front of her like a wooden version of the outer landscape, with plenty of hillocks and ruts. Here and there pieces of office furniture remained. A couple of cubicle walls still stood. Fragments of wood and metal were littered over the floor, and charred bits of paper were all that was left of some forgotten bureaucratic ritual. The Inner Sphere, she had heard, was quite addicted to paperwork. For the Clans the only records that mattered were the codexes of trueborns, each warrior's personal record, including everything from unique aspects of his DNA to all the important deeds of his career to the names of the warriors from whom he or she descended.

  Joanna started toward the nearest window, nearly tripping when a piece of floor sagged beneath her. Cracking and creaking sounds accompanied her entire trip to the window.

  Looking out she saw the hill where the original challenge had been made. Diana sat at its base, shifting around nervously, staring futilely into the Circle. Horse stood nearer the Circle, but farther away to the right. Another step or two more and Joanna would have not have been able to see him. His hand raised, Horse was staring at his chronometer. Joanna thought she had some time left, but realized she did not when Horse lowered his hand. The next opponent, whoever it was, entered on the other side of a pile of 'Mech parts. If she could get to the roof she might be able to see him, but Joanna saw no stairway to the roof. The only way to get there was through one of the holes in the ceiling.

  Well, so she was caught between a floor that might collapse any moment and a roof that was not in much better shape. It seemed like the story of her whole existence.

  Making her way to an overturned desk propped against the wall, Joanna ignored the ominous noises, the floor's instability, and the gaping hole just in front of the desk. From there, she examined a window set high in the wall. It was just below a narrow hole in the roof that extended all the way to the top of the wall. Her plan, so clear when she had instantly conceived it on the other side of the room, now seemed doubtful. But she did not want to tiptoe back across the floor, and she did not want to jump out the window, and she did not want to drop through a hole in the floor, and there was a warrior stalking her below, so she decided to call on her acrobatic skills, which were probably rusty.

  Joanna tested the desk and the floor around it gingerly. The floor seemed to give way when she prodded it with the toe of her boot, but she had no time to worry about that. Using a light fixture for balance, she managed to climb to the top of the desk.

  Switching her hand to another light fixture located to the left of the desk and higher, she used it to guide her left foot toward the ledge of the window. The window glass was gone, but the frame was intact. With one foot on the sill, Joanna put both hands on the light fixture and shifted her body toward the sill. The movement made her kick the desk away before she'd planned to, and the floor beneath the desk shifted with a loud crack. Gradually, slowly, the desk slid toward the hole in the floor, teetered at its edge for a moment, then fell through. A large chunk of the floor went down with it.

  It seemed like a long time before the desk hit the next floor down. When it did, its loud impact set off a series of echoes, a chain of noise that no opponent outside could miss. Twisting her neck painfully, Joanna managed to get her head around the side of the window while one hand stayed on the light fixture and the other slid sideways to gain an unsteady grip on the near side of the window. She had to look around her upper arm to see out the window. What she saw there was Fredrich standing on the ground and looking up at her with an enigmatic smile. Had he a weapon he could have easily picked her off. He watched a moment longer, then began to walk casually toward the factory entrance.

  So here I am, Joanna thought, one hand clinging to a light fixture, another on a window frame that feels like it is separating from the wall. The floor beneath me has collapsed, and the desk I climbed up on has fallen through a hole, so I can't go back. One leg on a sill, the other hanging free. Now what?

  "Well," she said aloud, "the roof is still an option."

  Working her free leg onto the sill, she was left in a particularly uncomfortable position—tilted sideways, her hands clutching the light fixture and the window frame. But Joanna had no time to contemplate her next move, since the fixture began to separate from the wall.

  She moved her right hand to the window frame while swinging the left outward so that, at the finish of her maneuver, one hand clung to the outside of the frame, and the other to the inside. This at least allowed her to shift her body and achieve a precarious balance.

  She heard Fredrich walking on the floor below.

  The hole in the roof was only a few centimeters from the top ledge of the window. A portion of roof beam was exposed. Releasing her hands from their positions, relying on her own fine sense of balance, Joanna let herself fall backward while reaching up and grabbing the ledge. Her feet nearly slid off the sill, but she managed to keep them there.

  Using the side of the frame for leverage with her feet, she managed to pull and climb upward until her chin was above the upper ledge. Swinging her body outward, she let go of the ledge with her left hand and grabbed the lower ridge of the exposed roof beam. Perhaps miraculously, the beam held.

  Now she had one hand on the beam and the other still on the window, with her legs dangling awkwardly. In an athletic maneuver that would have been impressive even for a young warrior, and might be regarded as phenomenal for an old one, she planted her feet against the wall beside the window while simultaneously shifting her window-ledge hand to join her other hand at the roof beam, but on the higher ridge.

  The adroit movement made her look down. Fredrich stood below, ever silent, looking up at her curiously. She was surprised he did not laugh out loud. She must have been some sight, spread out like a dropcloth between the window and the hole in the roof.

  Pulling herself up as well as she could and rapidly shifting her lower hand to the upper ridge, she bent her knees and kicked away from the wall. While her hands held on tightly, the power of the kick sent her legs across and upward. Twisting herself upward at the same time, she forced one leg against the jagged edge of the hole and managed, by squirming her body, to get her other leg above and onto the surface of the roof.

  She wondered if Fredrich was being entertained by her ungainly gymnastic exhibition, especially now that her hands were on the beam and her crossed legs at different parts of the hole's border. And now what?

  Working her hands along the roof beam, hand over hand, hand under hand, she bent her legs until she got the upper hand further onto the roof. When she felt ready, she disentangled the other leg and swung it onto the roof also. Now her body was twisted, angled, and a bit unsteady. Now, for my next trick ...

  With both legs on the roof, she pushed herself backward along the beam, each move getting more and more of her body onto the roof. Finally, with a push upward and a roll to her left, she was completely on the roof.

  For a moment, she lay on her back, looking up at the densely clouded sky, and took a
deep breath. Every muscle in her body seemed exhausted. Not a good sign when there was still a lot of fight ahead. Maybe she no longer had the reserves. Maybe the Clans were right in their belief that older warriors should be weeded out.

  Maybe she was, after all, too old.

  Maybe she was.

  With surprising agility Joanna leaped to her feet. I do not think so, she thought.

  4

  Salvage Yard Number 3

  Pattersen, Sudeten

  Jade Falcon Occupation Zone

  1 July 3057

  Ignoring her pain, Joanna struggled to slow down her breathing. Her heartbeat was also too rapid. Looking down through the hole, she searched for Fredrich. He was gone. No surprise there.

  She walked to the north side of the roof and saw no movement in the supply depot area. On the east, overlooking the building entrance, Horse studied his chronometer, then motioned another young warrior into the Circle. Beyond, thick black clouds were heading this way.

  At the west edge Joanna saw nothing but desolation below, and the south view was pretty barren, too.

  Fredrich must be still in the building somewhere. But where, and how could she find him?

  As if in answer, a low rumble preceded the opening of trap doors near the middle of the roof. What appeared to be a small building rose up through the opening. A sliding noise came from the other side of this structure.

  As she walked toward it, Fredrich strolled around its corner to face her. He was smiling, probably a rare event in his life. Gesturing toward the structure, the usually silent warrior spoke in a calm, almost melodious voice. "The elevator still works, so I took it." Letting out a scream that would have scattered birds in flight, Joanna rushed at Fredrich. He went into a crouch, then somersaulted into her attack, his feet straightening in mid-roll and catching her in the chest. The kick knocked the wind out of her.

  As she stumbled backward, Joanna realized that in the old days such a simple maneuver could never have taken her by surprise. Regaining her balance as Fredrich sprang to his feet, she beckoned at him, taunting, "Come on, Freddie boy, let us just mix it up. Nothing fancy, nothing acrobatic."

  She hoped to make Fredrich fight her on her own terms, but suddenly began to regret the tactic. He countered every punch she threw, none of hers landing with any force. In the meantime, he scored a couple of punishing blows on her body.

  As Joanna staggered backward, Fredrich pursued her, leaping, and kicking her so hard at shoulder level that she was momentarily dazed. Everything seemed to fly around her, including a half-dozen menacing Fredrichs.

  By shaking her head Joanna brought everything back into focus. Fredrich had taken a few steps back to assess the situation, then started toward her again. Fortunately, her next step backward was a slow one, or she would've stepped right off the roof. She quickly reversed the step, saving herself from a two-story plunge.

  Fredrich countered sideways. Not even a young warrior like him would be fool enough to rush her at a roof edge.

  Now the two of them stood face to face along the rim of the roof.

  "Either one of us goes off-balance even an iota and the other gets to push the rest of the way. Come on Fredrich. Play."

  Joanna knew that if Fredrich got in just one of his strong punches, she might indeed be the one to sail off the roof, so she had to attack. She abruptly rushed him, conscious of each step as she ran along the roof edge.

  With hands clasped together, she knocked him sideways, away from the edge. It was a blow so illogical in their precarious circumstance that it worked. As Fredrich stumbled and fell flat on his face, Joanna leaped on him and rained blows, most of them ineffective, on his back. When she finally managed one good one by his ear, his body suddenly went limp.

  Joanna rose from her apparently unconscious victim—but too soon. Fredrich, with a sudden athletic spin, his body partly raised in the air, kicked at Joanna's knees. She went down onto her backside, dazed by the intense pain from the kick. Scrabbling to a crawling position, Fredrich propelled himself at her, pushing Joanna back onto the roof's rough surface.

  He was strong, this silent young falcon. Joanna felt her limbs weaken as he pressed them down. With all the strength she could muster, like a contestant in an arm-wrestling match that was going bad, she pushed back. Slowly, in gradual stages, she discovered that she, old falcon that she was, was just that little bit stronger than her adversary. The veins in both their necks stood out like ragged branches as each strained against the other. Gradually, with renewed confidence, Joanna shoved Fredrich off her body. Grunting from the effort, she rolled in the other direction and went into a crouch, ready for Fredrich's next assault.

  Finally there was an emotion on Fredrich's face. Rage. He obviously did not intend to lose a contest of strength to an aged Jade Falcon warrior. Maintaining his silence, he jumped at her, arms flailing. She fought back but her blows did not seem to affect him. She realized why. He was in what some called "the Jade Falcon fury," that state when everything irrational in a warrior rose to the surface and it did not matter how stupidly he or she was fighting because it worked.

  He shoved at Joanna. She resisted weakly and, with one massive heave, he sent her right to the edge of the roof. She was able to balance for a second with her arms waving. Then he hit her again—merely touched her really—and she felt herself slipping off the edge of the roof. Reaching out with both hands, she grabbed for the edge as she went. Grating pain in both arms nearly made her lose her already precarious hold.

  The building's rough-textured wall offered good traction for her boots, and she began to climb back onto the roof. One arm already on the surface, she stared up into Fredrich's unemotional eyes. With excruciating pain traveling from fingertip to shoulder joint, she reached up with her other arm and grabbed at his arm, the one whose hand was in a fist meant to finish her off. She yanked at his arm and jerked him toward her with such force that his own momentum completed the job, and he cleared the edge of the roof. He nearly pulled her all the way off with him, but Joanna held on.

  For a moment, she held onto his arm, her own crooked arm and her feet firmly planted on the side wall, keeping her safe. She stared at him hanging below her. Although his eyes were calm, there seemed to be tears in them. No, they were not tears. The moisture came from a scattering of raindrops that had begun to fall.

  "You think I can pull us both back onto the roof?" she said.

  "I doubt it."

  Joanna let go. His fall was relatively short. When he hit the ground, there was the distinct sound of at least one bone breaking.

  Back on the roof, Joanna lay flat on her back for a brief time, too tired to move. She wanted to quit now. But there were still two more imbeciles to face, so she stood up wearily. One thing she would have to thank Fredrich for. He had discovered the elevator.

  As the elevator doors opened on the ground floor, she was tensed and ready to fight anyone waiting there. But no one did. No surprise. If she was right, Castilla was outside somewhere, and—of the five young warriors—that one seemed the smartest. And a smart one would not want to encounter Joanna in this debris-ridden trap of a building. Joanna was, after all, an old Jade Falcon, and old falcons were fierce in a cage.

  * * *

  Castilla sat on a bent propeller blade beside a pile of other remnants from a smashed VTOL. Large drops of light rain made an erratic pinging melody as they fell on the many pieces of metal scattered all over the junkyard.

  "I saw some of what happened on the roof. I would not have been as dumb as Fredrich so close to the edge, nor would I be moaning as much as he is now."

  His moans were low, just audible. With similar injuries, Joanna might have moaned, too, but she was sure the proud and cruel Castilla would not.

  "Would you like to rest a bit, old woman?"

  "Why should I?"

  "For one thing, you look like the rag end of a 'Mech exhaust. For another, I would not take much pride in defeating you while you are worn out."


  "What makes you think I am worn out."

  "If you are not, then you are superhuman."

  "I am a Jade Falcon warrior."

  "So am I."

  "Not really. Not yet."

  "A clever answer, Captain Joanna, but we do have a philosophical disagreement, the two of us."

  "Philosophical disagreement? Is that how warriors talk these days? What kind of new breed are the scientists putting out?"

  What Castilla's angled mouth did now might have been a smile. A harder rain was falling, and water streamed down both women's faces and off their hair.

  "Well, we have idle time and plenty of opportunity for discussion. I meant, put into the vocabulary of a veteran warrior, that we are all warriors from the time we win our Trials of Position. It does not matter whether we are still unblooded or whether we have been through many battles. It does not—" Joanna's derisive grunt made her stop. "Do you disagree?"

  "I do not even care! All I see is that, in addition to your other traits, you eyasses are boring, too. Philosophy! Are you sure you have not been hanging around freebirth villages?"

  A flash of anger sparked in Castilla's eyes. "I know nothing about freebirths. You are the freebirth expert."

  Joanna moved threateningly forward. "You lecture to me? You still have canister fluid in the cracks of your skin."

  "I may be inexperienced, but I will get the experience. You, however, my dear Star Captain, will always be a freebirth-lover!"

  Castilla stood up. Joanna was ready to engage her, but another voice interrupted them. "Well spoken, MechWarrior Castilla."

  Cholas emerged from the shadows beneath a ruined, slightly bent and twisted 'Mech knee. His hair and face were dry, untouched as yet by the heavy rain. Cholas, like Ronan, still wore his grotesque decorative band. His was made of a shiny material and had too much red in it.

  "You have done well, Star Captain Joanna. Three victories. Castilla and I had not expected that our turn in the Circle would even come. Thank you, Castilla, for delaying our freebirth-loving opponent so I could join."