Main event

by James D. Long

  Fighting off the initial dizziness, Rose was attempting to stand when the other side of his head exploded in pain. Stars shot off behind his eyes, but he managed to rise to one knee before something reached under his chin and rocked his head. He felt his teeth chip as his head flew back and forced his body to follow. Flat on his back behind the bar, Rose tried to roll away from the stomp he knew was sure to follow, but the attack never came.

  Rose rolled over backward and came up into a crouch, eyes searching for his opponent. He stood slowly as waves of nausea threatened to knock him back to one knee. Just out of the range of his foot stood Lieutenant Viets, her hands easily balancing her tonfa. Rose had seen, and recognized, the martial arts weapon earlier during the interrogation, but he'd mistakenly passed it off as merely ornamental or clumsy. Clearly it was neither. Risking a look away from the weapon, he glanced up at the officer holding it. To his surprise, Viets was smiling.

  "You find this amusing, Officer Viets?" Rose began to relax, but only after his opponent shifted her weight firmly onto one foot.

  " 'Mechboy, this is my idea of a real good time. Pounding the snot out of you tough guys is a dream come true to us poor, stupid clods."

  "Touched" Rose straightened and felt the adrenaline flowing out of his system. His head began to pound from the twin lumps he'd received. He tested the second knot, not surprised to see that his hand came away bloody. He looked over at Viets, who continued to smile as she twirled her tonfa around a seemingly unmoving hand. With a snap of the wrist the weapon was back in its place at her side.

  "Dillon, I'm officially off duty. I need something to drink."

  "Yes, ma'am. One on the way, and I'll bring some ice for your head, Rose." Rose waved an affirmative without looking at Dillon. A check of his chin revealed that it was bleeding too, but not as severely as the head wound. Rose realized he was lucky to be alive, but that only slightly eased the pain.

  "Viets, I've been beaten, stabbed, and twice ejected from an exploding 'Mech, but I've never had a fight go against me that quickly, or that surely." Rose reached for a nearby cloth and dabbed his head. Lieutenant Viets let the silence linger as she crossed to the other side of the bar and took a seat next to the one Rose had only recently occupied.

  "Well, Rose, I'm just guessing, but since we're on a planet known for gambling, I'd wager you've never underestimated an opponent so badly, never let an opponent make you so angry, and never fought a ninth dan black belt. But, hey, I'm just guessing. You could have been one hell of a lucky guy all your life." Rose walked around the bar and sat next to Viets. He wondered about Dillon, but the bartender seemed to know when it was time to make himself scarce.

  "I'm sorry that I insulted you and your police force. Thanks for going easy on me and giving me the chance to learn from my mistake. It isn't a lesson I'll need again."

  "Apology accepted, Mister Rose. Now, if Dillon will only get back here with my drink. Ah, speak of the devil." Dillon emerged from the back room with a plastic bag full of ice, which he gave to Rose, and a small porcelain bottle, which he gave to Viets. Reaching into his apron, he produced a matching porcelain cup that he also handed to the policewoman.

  "Now that the two of you are on speaking terms, maybe we can get back to business." Dillon was obviously pleased that Rose was no longer shouting and that Viets was "off duty."

  "Lieutenant, can you tell me what's going to happen, and how fast? I know, I know. You don't run the department and there are a lot of things that can happen, but I've already figured out that you must have a pretty good idea which way this one will go. I really need to know." Rose did his best to make the request humble but not groveling. If he guessed right, and this particular guess wasn't very difficult, Viets was the type of woman who wouldn't respond well to weakness or begging. She might, however, tell him some of what he wanted, or needed, to know if he could convince her it was important.

  "I don't know why I'm bothering to tell you any of this. Not only would my butt be in a sling if the captain found out, but you'd just use the information to get yourself killed. That or you'd kill somebody else."

  "You think that little of me after such a brief time?"

  "You did attack me, remember, 'Mechboy?"

  " 'Mechboy? Just what does that mean? You don't know me, what I do or how I make a living." Rose let equal parts of anger and calm slip into his voice. How did she know?

  "Oh, 'Mechboy, I know you. I know you and your kind. Strutting around like you own the place. All full of attitude and just itching for a fight with some poor local. I can see it in the walk, the talk, the way you drink your beer. You're a 'Mechboy all right, even without that tin-plated, fusion-powered, death-giving machine you call a BattleMech." Rose was impressed with the passion of Viets' response. He'd met people who didn't like Mech Warriors. He'd even met people who hated them, but he'd never met a person who made the word 'Mech sound like something dredged up from the bottom of a cesspool.

  "If you hate us so much, why are you on Solaris?"

  "None of your damn business, 'Mechboy." Rose saw the fire in her eyes. Adrenaline was pumping through her again. Rose took a quick mental inventory of both his body and his few assets. He knew in an instant he couldn't take her in a fight, either fair or foul, at least not without a 'Mech. He also knew he had to keep her talking if he was going to accomplish his personal mission.

  "Then why are you talking to me?" Like someone throwing a switch and plunging a room into darkness, Rose saw the anger flow out of Lieutenant Viets. She held him in a rigid stare, unblinking for long seconds as she examined him. Rose imagined that with a stare so intent she could look into his soul. He held her eyes with what he hoped was equal intensity. When she spoke, Rose was shocked by the power and conviction in her voice.

  "I keep hoping, 'Mechboy, that one of you will turn out to be different from all the rest." She broke the stare, glancing away. Rose unconsciously relaxed, exhaling a long breath. When she turned back to him, the intensity was gone. She stared at him, but it was not the same.

  "Since you're new to the area, I'll make this as simple as possible." She poured a cupful of clear liquid from the bottle and held it to her nose for a brief instant before downing it in a single swallow. "If I assume you're right about Scoggins, and I'm willing to do that, I need a sworn affidavit from you that says you saw him murder Jaryl Whillins and are willing to testify to it in court." Viets held up her pinky to accentuate the point.

  "I go to my boss, a man known far and wide as an impartial dispenser of justice, and tell him that just before a championship fight, a back-up pilot was killed by a man in the employ of the other stable." Up went the ring finger.

  "I fill out more forms than you'll see in ten years and pass them on up the ladder, explaining why Scoggins has to be brought back to the Black Hills for trial." Up went the middle finger. Rose shifted his ice bag, sensing where the lieutenant was leading.

  "Eventually the whole thing gets handled by the bureaucrats, and Scoggins does, or doesn't, stand trial, depending on who owes what favors to who or how much money is brought to bear on the issue." Viets' index ringer uncurled from her thumb. "That's what we call a four-step ladder back at base. Any one of the rungs goes and nobody gets to the top."

  "So you're saying it won't be easy to bring Scoggins in for trial?"

  "Rose, I'd have to take off both boots to count the steps in that ladder, and you'd like it all to be finished by the start of the fight—I can see it in your eyes." Rose tried, with surprising success, to conjure a mental image of Viets without boots, or anything else for that matter. He forced his mind to shift gears and concentrate on the problem. She deserved more respect than a mental undressing. Even with his resolve, however, it took longer than he anticipated to dispel the image. Viets was just finishing her second cup as Rose began thinking aloud.

  "So, again time is against me. If I'm right, Warwick is out to get Carstairs' pilots and change the odds of the fight everyone is trying so damn hard to keep
the same.

  "Even if Scoggins comes to trial, it won't be until long after the fight, and it won't bring Jaryl back or change Warwick's plans." Rose could see the man sitting like a pack rat atop his pile of gold. "Warwick wants this championship and he had Jaryl killed as part of his plan to win it." To Rose the facts were as plain as the pain in his head. He looked at Viets, who only shrugged and poured another drink.

  "Maybe so, maybe no."

  "Lieutenant, have you ever met Warwick?" Viets absently shook her head. Rose continued although he was only partially sure Viets was even listening to him anymore. As he spoke she stared into the empty porcelain cup, head cocked slightly as if hearing something very far away.

  "He's the type of man you meet once and either hate or love. There's no middle ground, just ask Dillon. I found myself falling on the side of the former emotion, even before he had Scoggins murder Jaryl."

  "You don't know that."

  "You're right, but I know the way Scoggins looked at me before he pulled the trigger. It was like we were sharing a secret, something only he and I knew anything about. I know that Warwick stands to gain a lot more than he loses if one of Carstairs' pilots dies. I also know that after spending ten minutes alone with the man, I can't stand the sight of him. It's probably unreasonable, but I'm going to go with my guts on this. Warwick is to blame, even if there's no proof." Rose stood and started to walk away.

  "Where're you going now, 'Mechboy?" Viets looked up from her empty cup. "You going to start something nobody wants to see happen? You going to make my life miserable, 'Mechboy?" Rose could see the challenge in her eyes and hear the frustration in her voice. She deserved better than to have to deal with this, to deal with him. She deserved a chance to do her job without Rose's quest getting in the way, but he'd let events control him too long. It was time for him to seize the initiative and regain control of his life. For all the right reasons he lied to her.

  "No, Lieutenant Viets, I'm going back to the hotel for some sleep and a couple of pain pills. I'll not bother you again."

  10

  Solaris City, Solaris

  7 August 3054

  Light spilled into the street as a single metal door was suddenly thrown open, the noises and commotion from within a sharp contrast to the quiet and deserted street. A single man stumbled out, backing out onto the dimly lit sidewalk. Roars and curses followed him out, but the giant seemed not to hear. As he cleared the doorway, a second figure, definitely female, darted into the street, almost dancing within reach of the man. Within seconds she was halfway up the street.

  The giant paused and looked after the departing figure, then back through the doorway with a broad grin.

  "Good night one'and all. I'll return on the morrow, prize in hand." Roars of laughter echoed from the room.

  "You'll be lucky to survive the night, let alone the match, O'Shea. Elaine is more than a match for your oafish advances." Roars of laughter followed the insult. O'Shea staggered in feigned shock.

  "You wound me, but I've no time for the likes of you." O'Shea spun around, as if to leave, but instead lifted his kilt to the building. Pausing only a moment, he jumped out of the direct line of fire as several bottles and a full mug of ale flew through the doorway into the street. Jeers chased the giant as he hustled away, finally catching up with the woman who had followed him out of the bar.

  "I swear, O'Shea, one of these nights you'll be plucking glass out of your bum. You've tried that trick once too often."

  O'Shea laughed at the memory of his crude jest, and scratched at his full beard as he considered the possibility.

  "Perhaps you're right, my dear. Tonight, however, all my parts are glass-free. Perhaps you'd care to make a personal inspection?"

  "Restrain yourself, man. You've got a big match tomorrow." She thumped O'Shea's sternum with the flat of her hand to emphasize the point, but as always, O'Shea was unconcerned.

  "Am I not Badicus the Bold? Bonnie Badicus? The match tomorrow will be nothing." He started forward again, but his quarry resumed her walk down the street, temporarily eluding him.

  "I'm not so sure about this one. Warwick has something up his sleeve."

  "That Steiner lackey? He hasn't got the brains to pour water out of a boot with the directions on the heel."

  "If you truly believe that, then you've underestimated your opponent." O'Shea and his companion stopped at the sound of the new voice. O'Shea judged the speaker to be in one of the adjacent doorways, but he couldn't be sure which one. Adrenaline kicked in as he reached instinctively for his trusty Sunbeam. Maybe those last three drinks hadn't been such a good idea after all. He slipped the safety strap off the pistol and scanned the sidewalk.

  "Knowledge of your foe is half the battle," came the voice.

  "Well, well, Mister Expert, what do you know about it? Warwick is a fool, and if he's sent you after me before the match, he's a damn fool. Many men have tried to take on Badicus but few have lived to tell the tale. You'd better kill me quick or run back to your master and tell him you lost your nerve, because you're starting to annoy me.

  Badicus was not really sure what to expect next, but he had no doubt that he could deal with it. Despite his size and considerable bulk, he was one of the fastest draws on Solaris. Of course, few men who discovered the fact lived to tell about it. Somebody, probably Warwick, had already killed Jaryl, but the obvious danger hadn't stopped Badicus from having his usual pre-fight "relaxer." If anything, the death of his friend had made him drink even more than normal.

  Seconds passed and the stranger remained unseen. Badicus was about to convince himself that the entire conversation, such as it was, was merely a figment of his slightly inebriated imagination when Elaine let out a brief gasp of surprise. Simultaneously, his left hand, which had begun to draw the Sunbeam, went numb and a shower of light and pain erupted from the corner of his left eye. Had he been sober, the blow would have felled him in a heartbeat, but the eighty-proof anesthetic seemed to soften the blow. He was only driven to one knee. Stars danced across what remained of his vision as the big man fought to rise and make his hand work. He side-kicked to his left, but smashed through nothing but air.

  "I am sorry, Mister O'Shea, but you have something I need." O'Shea managed to stagger up to both feet and look at his assailant. Whatever features would have been revealed were hidden under the high collar of the man's long coat and the gloom of the night. Badicus shook his head like a dog shaking off water, but his whole world seemed to spin.

  "Believe me, there is nothing personal in my actions," the voice said. Then, in a blur of motion, both his hands reached out and clapped O'Shea over each ear. In the fraction of the second he remained conscious, O'Shea could not help but notice that the air trapped in his outer ear made a sound just like that of a landing DropShip. The pitch of the engines increased as the attack forced the air past his eardrums and into his middle ear. When the DropShip landed, O'Shea lay unconscious on the street.

  Rose stepped clear as the big man hit the sidewalk.

  O'Shea's head bounced lightly off the concrete, but Rose was sure the man was not permanently injured. He knelt down beside him and smiled when he felt a strong pulse.

  "Very impressive, mystery man." Rose looked over at O'Shea's girlfriend. He'd spotted her when the pair had first left the bar, but she'd retreated into the shadows when he initially spoke out to Badicus. Rose stood and watched as Elaine stepped back into the glow of the streetlight.

  "Your boyfriend will be all right. He should wake up in an hour or so, but it might take longer if he's as drunk as he seems." Rose continued to watch as Elaine emerged fully into the light. She moved with her right arm at an odd angle, which Rose at first thought was merely an unusual way of walking. A closer look at her midsection revealed that she held a slim black needle pistol. The way she clutched it against her blue dress in the shadows of the street, Rose had almost missed it. His shoulders slumped slightly.

  "In a city with gun control laws, why is it so da
mn easy to pack a pistol in this place?"

  Elaine laughed lightly, but held the gun rock-steady. "Dangerous times like these require extreme measures," she said. "As a warrior, I'm sure you understand that."

  "I didn't hurt O'Shea, so you can put down the gun. I just needed him out of action for a couple of hours, that's all." Rose carefully eyed the gun that didn't move a hair.

  "Oh, I'm not worried about O'Shea. In fact, you've just made my job a little easier." Rose felt his stomach drop. The adrenaline that had begun to dissipate after O'Shea's fall began creeping back into his blood.

  "Your job?"

  "Yes. Mister O'Shea was about to have a terrible accident. Of course, I'd have waited until the morning, but you can't have everything you want."

  "So you're not Elaine, his girlfriend?" Rose hoped to keep her talking, but he didn't have much of a plan other than that. He hated needlers. Of all the weapons he had ever encountered, only needlers caused such an irrational fear. He knew he would not be any deader than if a laser or an old fashioned slug-thrower killed him, but that didn't seem to matter. He still hated the weapon, even more now that one was pointed at him.

  "Oh, I'm Elaine, all right." Stepping carefully, she closed the distance between her and Rose. From her position, she had a full view of the bar, which was to Rose's back. "I'm also known as his girlfriend, but I'm just a girl who needs a paycheck."

  "You really seemed to care for O'Shea back at the bar." Rose kept his eyes on Elaine, shifting his view between the pistol and her eyes.

  "I'm a natural actress. Could you really like, let alone love, a man like that? Just look at him. Go on, take a good look." Rose was not at all inclined to take his eyes off Elaine, but the urgency in her voice forced him to reconsider. Inside he was exploding with energy as his heart sent adrenaline-filled blood racing through his veins, but Rose willed his muscles to remain calm. If, and when, it came time to act, he would move quicker if relaxed. One last look into Elaine's eyes and Rose turned to study Badicus O'Shea. A quick glance told him all he needed to know. Next to his prostrate body was the Sunbeam laser pistol he had tried to pull on Rose. Rose doubted that Elaine knew O'Shea had tried to draw the pistol because she'd been on his right and the pistol on the left.