Bloodname

by Robert Thurston

  * * *

  Joanna was suddenly hit by missiles from the enemy Summoner. Five explosions flashed on her 'Mech.

  "I have not got much left, Aidan."

  "I know. Do not even bother with more than a desultory response to the Summoner. I will take care of that one at the right time. The Warhawk is our concern now, and we will take it together."

  "I do not see how."

  "But I think I do, and there is no time to explain it. Star Captain Joanna, rush the Warhawk. Use the rest of your ammo, missiles, whatever you have, as you go. Take its attention away from me."

  "I do not have the firepower to win against a Warhawk, particularly one that has barely been in the battle and is fully charged, ammoed, and racked."

  "Do not argue logic with me, Joanna. Just do it."

  "I will be wiped out."

  "Exactly. Keep your hand on your ejection lever, and when I tell you to eject, eject. Go."

  "Aidan, if this—"

  "GO!"

  Joanna, mumbling to herself, started her Mad Dog toward the formidable Warhawk. As ordered, she was firing everything. Her hands manipulated her joysticks madly. Only a few of her shots hit the mark, and then causing only minimal damage. The Warhawk pilot must have thought he was being attacked by a warrior gone berserk.

  Getting closer, she took hit after hit to her torso, her limbs. But she came on. Her 'Mech's left knee was nearly shattered, but Joanna managed to keep the Mad Dog upright, and she came on. Armor fell off her 'Mech's chest like feathers off a molting bird. Her heat buildup was reaching the dangerous levels. And she came on.

  "Aidan, I am close now. I am almost out of—"

  "Closer."

  She pushed her 'Mech on, feeling it limp and stagger beneath her. More armor flew off.

  "Aidan, there is no more I can do. My weapons—"

  "Keep on going. Get closer."

  "Damn it, I am practically on top of him now."

  "Just a few meters now. A few more. Almost there."

  The pilot of the Warhawk was just toying with her now. He knew the win was a sure thing. That was the way a warrior always felt when an opponent was no longer offering a response and becoming a closer target by the second.

  "Aidan, the heat buildup is too much. I am getting dizzy. I have to—"

  "Two more seconds. Keep going. Going. Good. Now, Joanna, now. Eject!"

  She did not have to be told twice. She was in the ejection seat and flying over the head of the Warhawk pilot almost immediately.

  At the same time, Aidan launched his six short-range missiles. The Mad Dog was beginning to fall slowly forward now. It was between Aidan's Summoner and the Warhawk. Just where he wanted it to be. If the Warhawk had an anti-missile system, the Mad Dog would be in the way. That did not matter, really. The missiles were not targeted for the Warhawk. They were aimed directly at the middle of the Mad Dog's back. The overheated, coolant-churning, tottering Mad Dog.

  Joanna's BattleMech exploded in a fine mushroomlike blast, for a moment obscuring the Warhawk.

  The blast, with its fierce explosion, massive shrapnel, and forward-falling 'Mech, knocked the Warhawk off its feet, incidentally destroying its cockpit and piercing the neck and head of the pilot.

  The Warhawk and the Mad Dog became an instant tangled, smoking mess. The techs would be weeks sorting out which part belonged to which 'Mech.

  In the distance, Aidan saw Joanna's ejection seat settle almost gently onto the ground. She undid its straps and got out of it violently. It was obvious she was all right. He could turn his attention to the remaining BattleMech, the Summoner.

  It stood, quiescent, a few hundred meters away, most of its weapons still fully loaded and charged. Its pilot had not yet engaged in much fighting, and the 'Mech had almost no surface damage. The odds were definitely against Aidan.

  But what were odds? he thought. They had started as three BattleMechs against nine. Now there was just a one-against-one contest to settle.

  Aidan had no worries now. He had piloted Summoner during most of his career as a warrior. In his trial he had qualified in a Summoner. He knew every move that was possible with this type of 'Mech. No pilot on this planet, or even in the entire globular cluster of Clan worlds, could out-fight him in a Summoner.

  Ready to engage in battle, he started toward the opposing BattleMech. If he had been the type of warrior who permitted himself a laugh just before victory, Aidan would have been laughing hard right now.

  Heading toward victory, he sang softly to himself, "One little BattleMech, with nowhere else to run ..."

  29

  As the three victors joined one another next to Aidan's 'Mech at the center of the field, dumbfounded Jade Falcon warriors walked around the scene, surveying the damage. They had been judges and observers during the Trial. By the looks on their faces, they did not comprehend that a trio of discredited warriors could do so much havoc. BattleMechs and pieces of them lay all over the field, smoke rising from scarred chunks, little fires still going here and there, mixed odors of burning liquids and charred metal drifting on the air. Survivors of the contest sat by their 'Mechs and stared ahead, trying to analyze what they had done wrong. Those who had not survived were being carried off the field by medical techs.

  Roshak was the last one to join the trio. He climbed laboriously out of his ruined Nova.

  Aidan stared silently at Ter Roshak. The man looked weary and seemed to have aged another year or two since two days before in the council.

  Returning Aidan's stare, the other man said, "If you do not wish to talk to me, Star Commander Aidan, I can understand why."

  Aidan continued his scrutiny a moment longer, then said, "No, I do not mind talking with you, Ter Roshak. I would hope, though, that it will not happen too often."

  "You wanted to be a warrior. I provided you that."

  "That is true, but it does not require that I become your emotional bondsman for giving me the chance. We had it all out once before, and our testimonies only made me more aware of the price I have paid to be a warrior."

  "Take it back then. Certain Jade Falcon warriors would be delighted to see you gone from their ranks."

  "No, I have earned my status and my rank. Let us not continue this conversation. I wish to thank you for your actions in effecting our victory today."

  "I should be thanking you. You have both reversed a harmful judgment against me."

  "And ourselves," Joanna interjected.

  "Nevertheless, my life would have been over, ended in a dishonorable manner. I may not be able to restore my honor even now, but winning this Trial of Refusal goes a long way toward validating my actions."

  As the three of them fell silent, Aidan saw several warriors who had been inspecting the battlefield send hateful glances his way.

  "Well, Star Commander Aidan," Joanna said, returning to Clan warrior formality of address, "what now?"

  "Tomorrow is the Grand Melee for the thirty-second slot in the Bloodname competition. I will compete."

  Joanna nodded. "I admire your willingness to enter the melee, but I must say that, no matter what your abilities, the Grand Melee champion is not necessarily the best warrior of those who go into the field. Winning the melee is more a matter of survival than skill."

  "I seem to have some abilities along those lines."

  Joanna's eyebrows raised. "Granted. Just remember, you can be demolishing an opponent with all the best moves you have and some other idiot with no skills can sneak up behind and lay the both of you out with a single salvo. There is no military or even common-sense logic to it. Anything can happen in a melee."

  "Which makes it something like today," Aidan responded, pointing to the debris on the battlefield. "This may have been a good practice run for me."

  "After today's fight, you will be exhausted."

  "I have no choice. They are not going to postpone the Grand Melee so I can get proper rest. In fact, I do not intend to sleep. They will not let me have a tech to help get thi
s 'Mech back in shape, and it is going to need everything—repairs, reload, the works."

  "Nomad is here on Ironhold. His arm is better, if a bit stiff. He will help."

  Aidan was astonished at Joanna's offer.

  "Do not interpret the act as friendship," she said quickly. "I despise you and what has brought you to this point as much as ever. Perhaps even more because you were willing to pose as a filthy freebirth. But you fought well today, and I probably owe my life to you. It is a debt I would like to settle quickly. I will send Nomad here as soon as I can locate him."

  Aidan refrained from thanking her, knowing that gratitude would irritate and insult her.

  "You will need people to help you in other ways, an entourage. We will work out strategies. Perhaps you can persuade one or two others to join us."

  "Horse. I would like Horse."

  "That freebirth filth!"

  "Yes. Does that bother you?"

  Joanna seemed about to say yes, but then thought better of it. "If it is Horse you want, then Horse it shall be. My name is already dishonored. Serving on a Bloodname entourage with a freebirth cannot soil it much more. Somehow it even seems appropriate."

  "But from now on, you must not call him a freebirth until I either succeed or am eliminated."

  Joanna scowled. "You are a strange person, Star Commander Aidan. A trueborn warrior who is an advocate of freeborns. That combination should be enough to hold you back for the rest of your career, no matter what happens during the Trial of Bloodright. But I accede. I will not call MechWarrior Horse a freebirth to his or your face. How I speak elsewhere is another matter."

  "Well bargained and done."

  "I did not realize we were bidding, but, yes, I see what you mean. So, how do we complete your entourage? I cannot think of anyone else who can help."

  They both glanced down at Ter Roshak, who immediately began to shake his head. "You do not want me. I would hurt rather than help your cause. Better to find someone else."

  "Perhaps I can help," came a voice from behind them, one that both of them recognized as Marthe, now Marthe Pryde, Star Captain Marthe Pryde. Joanna and Aidan both turned around, as did Ter Roshak, to see her standing a few steps away. She had apparently been observing them for some time.

  Aidan did not know whether to run up and embrace her, or to maintain the same aloofness she seemed to reserve for him. But he did not have to ponder the matter for long. Marthe came forward with her hand extended, fingers splayed in position for the Jade Falcon handshake. Performing the ritual handshake meant more to Aidan than any embrace could have.

  "Star Captain—," he started to say, but Marthe interrupted.

  "I drop the formalities with all my warriors out in the field, and they may address me as Marthe. Sometimes it helps our performance as a unit. Given that we three shared some of our earlier days, it would be appropriate among us. Do you not agree, Joanna?"

  "At this point, Marthe, I am not certain of anything I once held true. I will call you Marthe. At least away from warrior gatherings."

  "Fair enough. Now, what of my offer, Aidan? I can advise you well. I am of the House Pryde line, after all. What I am not able to do is sponsor you, however. The only way you can gain respectability is through the melee for the thirty-second open slot. As I am a holder of the Pryde Bloodname, I have already had my chance to nominate. Unfortunately for my candidate, she was killed in a training accident, and her opponent draws a bye in the round of the thirty-two. But I am free to advise you without interfering with other duties."

  "What can you offer him that others cannot?" Joanna asked.

  "Well questioned, Joanna. I can offer Aidan information about his opponents, for I know many of them. As a member of House Pryde, I have analyzed the accomplishments and potential of some candidates. And I can find out about others."

  "But why, Marthe?" Aidan said. "Why would you do this? You did not seem sentimental about the past the last time we met."

  "I remember our days in the sibko better than you imagine. But no, my purpose here is not related to some unhealthy nostalgia. I studied your case before coming to Ironhold for the Grand Council, and I was present at every session. I requested to be an official observer at this Trial of Refusal. I have come to believe that Ter Roshak was right about you, that you are a fine warrior, one to be valued. As a praiseworthy warrior, you deserve your chance at a Bloodname. I do not know if you are the best who will compete for this House Pryde heritage, but you may be."

  "Will not others criticize you for lending support to a warrior who has only recently been condemned in council, which he challenged with a Trial of Refusal?"

  "Perhaps, but I am allowed, particularly because my own nominee is gone. And remember, you won the Trial, perhaps earning respect in some quarters. At any rate, you must now get your BattleMech to a repair bay and ready it for the melee."

  Marthe turned and began to walk away, her stride showing a military precision. Suddenly Aidan broke into a run and went after her.

  "Marthe, do you have some other reason for helping me?"

  She looked at him with her cool, even gaze. "In a way, yes. I was shocked to learn that you had been a warrior these past few years, when all along I believed you had flushed out of training. After the shock, I was glad. There is much . . . well, unfinished business between us. I wanted to see you again, so I came to Ironhold. Perhaps it has to do with the sibko ... I do not know. We will talk again tomorrow before the melee."

  Again she turned and resumed her brisk stride away from him. By now Joanna had come up alongside. "Things are not steady, Aidan. I am less sure of everything than I used to be. I do not like that."

  30

  Before the Grand Melee, Marthe warned Aidan to be especially wary of one MechWarrior Nielo, who was a survivor of two earlier Bloodright trials. He had been a sponsored candidate in those, and in each one had lasted to the round in which eight warriors remained. He had lost sponsorship when the Bloodnamed warrior who had favored him discovered a younger, more adept warrior and transferred his sponsorship to her instead. It was common, even expected, in the Clan for Bloodnamed warriors to switch their sponsorships of warriors from one Trial of Bloodright to another.

  Nielo would be piloting a Viper, a 'Mech lighter than Aidan's Summoner, but with excellent maneuverability. It had a greater jump capacity than Aidan's 'Mech, but its weaponry was fairly conventional. On Marthe's advice Aidan had reconfigured his Summoner back to its primary configuration. The only alteration he made was to replace the LRMs with SRMs, which would be more useful in the small area where the melee would take place.

  "For the melee you need some variety, and the Summoner's standard weapons configuration gives you that. No need to get fancy. In fact, what you must remember above all is to downplay your boldness, as Joanna has also advised you already. Caution works better in a melee."

  "Are you sure of that, Marthe?"

  Well, I have never participated in one, but the advice makes sense. It would be tempting to try too hard at the beginning, expend too much ammo, build up too much heat too early in the process. A warrior can lose the melee by what some in the merchant caste would call poor management. Therefore, caution. Defend yourself, but stay out of the way as much as you can."

  "That whole idea makes me uncomfortable."

  "It would make me uncomfortable, too. But the strategy here is not to win skirmishes. You could fight and win a hundred skirmishes in the melee, only to lose the last one. The idea, Aidan, is to survive. The more you stay out of the way, the better off you are. You only have to fight the last battle and win it. Of course it would be difficult to go through the whole melee without having to fight some battles. You will have to make your judgments on the spot. In the beginning, go after the fights you can easily win. Use instinct, not calculation."

  * * *

  Aidan surveyed the field of candidates as he listened to the House Leader's final briefing. The briefing was shorter than in the Trial of Bloodright contests,
and the terseness was insulting.

  More than a hundred warriors were gathered around the rim of the enormous Circle of Equals where the melee would take place. The Circle was used so that no candidate could hide out somewhere, resting up so that he would be fresh when he reentered the fray at a later stage.

  Except for the heaviest of BattleMechs, which were not allowed in a Grand Melee, it looked as though every other kind of existing 'Mech available was represented among this field of candidates. Some of the 'Mechs were highly polished, while others showed numerous burn and chip marks, as if their pilots were boasting about their many hard-fought battles.

  The House Pryde Leader, a thin young woman named Risa Pryde, ended her instructions. "Anyone who retreats back across the Circle of Equals line is automatically defeated. If you fall and land on the 'Mech's back, you are considered a 'kill.' If you land on the 'Mech's lower front torso, you may return to the melee. At the first cannon blast, you will all run into the Circle, proceeding to any position you choose. At the second cannon blast, the melee begins. May the spirit of Nicholas Kerensky guide you all."

  Aidan rested his hands on his controls and did not have long to wait for the signal. While others rushed into the circle, he merely strolled. Looking down at his secondary screen, which now displayed the moving BattleMechs, he saw that such sensors would be useless, at least for a while. With so many figures dodging around the terrain, it would be too difficult keeping track of them all. As Marthe had advised, he would conserve ammo by letting the others dispose of one another.

  The second cannon blast came. To those observing, the enormous Circle of Equals seemed to erupt into chaos.

  Aidan, in the middle of it, found it surprisingly easy to stroll past those in combat and travel a maze in which he was rarely bothered by another combatant. Clan warriors tended to be aggressive, which allowed the strategically unaggressive to amble, as Aidan was doing, through fierce conflict without much trouble. Any fighting he did do was desultory and brief. He was able to dispatch three 'Mechs with minimum expenditure of ammunition. It looked as though Marthe was right in her estimation that many of the combatants were not necessarily of the highest order of warrior.