TWO
Note: Many thanks to Kat and Tony for the reviews. I'm glad you like it. You know how much feedbacks help me in fixing errors, growing up, or simply gaining confidence.
Neon Grid Arena, Solaris VII,
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,
March 6, 3062
I could not believe what I had gotten myself into.
The technicians prepped up the final touch for the WSP-3M Wasp, a 15-year-old relic mech that had been resurrected from the arena dozens of time. The armor plating was welded in a rush and only in several parts, leaving multiple cracks gaping all along the body. The wiring had been rewired numerous times to keep the mech running, and missing spare parts were the norm in the cockpit. Half of the gauges were not functional. The list went on and on, but amazingly, the Wasp could function as any pristine mech under top-notch maintenance.
First, I came to Solaris to work as a technician, although my skill was only substandard. Then I agreed to fight in the arena using a junk. Even in a nominal condition, the Wasp was never designed for combat. Its specialty was to run. And with only one medium laser, one missile launcher, and paper-thin armor, I would not expect it to last long against Wolfhound, Jenner, or Panther. Let alone Cougar and Adder, two Clan mechs that had been regular visitors of Solaris arenas.
"I just got the list of your bogeys in this arena," John Daniels came bringing me a piece of paper with names of combatants. "Spyder McNevel in a Flea, Ding Lingh in a BattleHawk, 'Iceman' Thiessen in a Raven, Zippy Zalot in a Jenner, and Muhammad Jones in a Javelin. All suck, none are aces. Should be an easy fight for you."
Easy fight? If I could see myself in a mirror, I would have seen revulsion in my own eyes. This guy spoke as if arena fighting was a backgammon game. He gave me a mech that might not survive the initial breakout, and he said this should have been an easy treat for me. If I had a knife, I would have probably jammed it into his nostrils.
"It is easier said than done," I spited. "Do you really expect big things out of this mech?"
"It is the only one I have," he retorted. "If you're not happy with this, why did you sign up with me in the first place?"
"I signed up as a tech, not a mechwarrior!" I raised my voice. "I will be happy to relinquish my seat to a better pilot. Perhaps with me as the mechanic and him as the pilot, we can get something out of this mech."
"Look now," Daniels melted, half pleading. "I can't afford a real pilot. You're the only one available. Come on, just try it. It might be your lucky day."
I looked at him and never for a second had I respected him as my boss. His decisions were made when he was drunk. No wonder he was having financial trouble. If only he stopped drinking, sold his mech, and opened a spare part business, he would have been the boss of his own company. But then again, who was I to judge?
"No aces," I donned my cooling vest and helmet. "If this information is not accurate, I will kill you."
"That's the spirit!" he chortled. "Remember, first place got fifteen thousands, second gets ten, and third gets five. We need it bad, so try to place as high as you can."
I ignored Daniels and climbed the Wasp. The couple of techs helped me strap onto the command couch and start the mech. An ear-piercing whirl blasted into the cockpit, followed by a rough quake. The engine coughed and sputtered to life, and for a second I was afraid the reactor might blow up during the initialization. Nevertheless, the start-up sequence went on, until the mech steadied up, ready to take on the battle.
As the tech closed the hatch, I gently pushed the throttle forward. The Wasp squeaked and creaked as it trudged the pave, and I could feel a slight limp on its gait. The weapon gauge was not functioning, so there was no way to tell if I walked out into the arena with working weapons or not. If worse came to worst, I could just grab stones and throw it at my enemies, and hoped that the stones rammed into the cockpit.
Neon Grid Arena was one of many smaller arenas surrounding Solaris City. It was an enclosed arena, about one mile square, lit by hundreds of fluorescent lamps, hence the name. Sometimes during the fight, stray fires would destroy the lamps, so the arena would darken out. Since this arena was categorized as blood pit, only two kinds of warriors fought here. New mechwarriors used this arena as a stepping-stone to bigger ones like the Jungle Arena at Cathay, Factory Arena at Montenegro, or the Holy Grail of Solaris, Steiner Coliseum at Silesia. Zombies, or washed-up warriors, used this arena to cash out, until they were killed or fed up with fighting.
I led my mech out of the hangar, and five other contestants had been waiting eagerly. Once again, a Wasp was not designed to fight, so first I had to stay alive as long as I could while trying to devise a strategy to win this match. The other five mechs would have to kill each other, so I might be able to persuade them to attack each other and leave me alone. Should I survive long enough, then I could start thinking about winning the match.
As soon as I stepped into my place, the horn sounded. The fight had started. The Flea and BattleHawk immediately came into my direction, probably were attracted by the fact that my Wasp the smallest mech in the arena. Easy killing. I did not know if they worked together, but I did not want to hang around to find out. I pumped my jets and flew backward, evading the duo. The Flea soon reached its firing range and started peppering me with its lasers and flamer, the BattleHawk hot in its tail. The arena was a flat surface with a valley in the middle, so there was no place to hide. I bobbed and weaved, missing the lasers while running toward the other three mechs. They were too caught up in a battle to notice me, so I could lure my attackers to attack them first.
The Flea and BattleHawk kept on showering me with lasers, but soon I realized that they were lousy shots. As much as jiggling my joystick while running forward and their shots went wide, sometimes by more than a meter. A couple times the lasers grazed my limbs, but nothing serious happened. My armor level was enough to withstand a couple of shots. I fought the urge to turn around and fought them, and kept running toward the crowd in zigzag pattern.
When I closed in to the crowd, the Raven had separated itself, flaming and billowing in thick smoke. The Jenner and Javelin continued to trade shots, albeit most of them slammed into the wall. When I was less than 100 meters from them, I made a wide turn to the right and quickly looped to the left, putting the fighting Jenner and Javelin between me and my pursuer. As I expected, the Flea and BattleHawk turned their guns at the Jenner and Javelin, plunging into a confusing 4-way battle.
I could not believe the quality of these contestants. They fought without strategy, shooting blindly at anything in front of their mechs. And even though their enemy was right in front of their nose, they missed a lot. And they used their guns as if it they had unlimited ammunition and a lot of heat sinks. If they continued to do what they were doing, they would wear themselves down.
Maybe I had a chance to win this match after all.
As the Jenner, Javelin, Flea, and BattleHawk pounded each other with little success, I set my eyes at the sole Raven, obviously trying to avoid weapon contact to stay in the game as long as possible. I took a chance to charge it and readied my guns. I hoped the gun did not backfire, because looking at my mech's condition, it was a good possibility. The Raven saw me coming at it, and it broke into a run while firing its weapons at me. I shifted my mech to the Raven's blind spot, then raised my right arm and hit my trigger. Two streams of lasers lanced from my right arm. One missed, the other landed on the Raven's left torso. I must have hit a critical part: blue flame spewed out from the torso, followed by sparks and smoke.
My battle scanner was not functioning, but it was easy to see that the battle with the Jenner and Javelin must have worn the Raven down. Its speed dropped down drastically, and gear fluid dripped to the ground. I steadied my mech, then hit my missiles. The white trails ended up on the Raven's right torso, right under the missile box. Once again the Raven staggered, thrown aside by the shockwave of the explosion that consumed the ammunition bins. It went back to its feet, but the knees were wobbly. I hit my trigger, firing several quick bursts of laser, and the Raven roared into a fireball.
It was my first Solaris kill, and I should have been overjoyed, but I took no pride in killing a half-dead mech with a pilot that still needed gunnery lessons. I quickly brought my mech toward the rest of the mechs. I could not see how damaged they were, but the Jenner showed a hint of smoke on its left arm. So I dove into battle and trailed my guns at the Jenner.
The Jenner was busy attacking the BattleHawk when I fired my entire arsenal, a combination of missile and lasers. Half of them missed and ravaged the building, but the ones that hit, they hit hard. Pieces of titanium flew as my missiles pierced the armor on the left arm. I shot a couple more burst from my right arm, and the Jenner's left arm soared into the air, before skidded on the ground. Losing mass, the Jenner swayed to the right, but managed to keep standing.
Suddenly my proximity alarm rang. Without my battle scanner, it was hard to see where the missile came from. I twisted to the right but it was too late. Four missiles from the Javelin slammed into my right arm. The Wasp's armor was not particularly thick, so four missiles were enough to tore a smoking gash. However, the Javelin had to wait to reload. I fired my missiles in response, followed by my lasers, half of which grazed the Javelin's shoulder. The 30-ton mech was taken aback with the force, and I used this opportunity to escape from its line of fire. The Jenner was the greatest threat, and I wanted to subdue it as soon as possible.
At this time, I had abandoned my initial strategy to stay alive as long as possible. Seeing how poor their performances were, I dared myself to go for a second kill. The Jenner fired its entire weapons, trying to catch me in the laser rain. Two laser strands cored me in the chest, but the Wasp's armor was still thick enough to stop them. I brought my mech to the Jenner's left, hiding on its weaponless flank, while continuously firing my pulse laser. The Jenner shrugged the attack and retaliated with its missiles. One missile almost caught me on the head, but I quickly ducked, missing the missile by the centimeter.
While I was caught up with the Jenner, the Flea scored two hits on my back. A good ton of armor was washed away, and I knew there were not much more left. So I quickly left the Jenner and faced the Flea, but the Flea quickly avoided my line of fire. Finally, somebody with an ability to wage a respectable fight. I had to take note of this player. I swung to the left, away from the Flea, and continued working on the Jenner, while closely monitoring the Flea's position.
Firing all its weapons, the Jenner jumped into the air, trying foolishly to do death from above. But there was a reason why we – Clansmen – did not perform this maneuver, aside from dishonor. When flying, the bottom part of the mech was left exposed. So instead of moving back, I pushed my mech forward, until I was right underneath the Jenner, then let it have it. My lasers eviscerated the thin armor, and my missile went almost unopposed into the internal structure. Three consecutive explosions ripped the Jenner midair, and it glided to the ground like a gutted beast, bleeding fire and smoke from its belly. Its legs almost split to sustain the imbalance weight, but nevertheless, the Jenner refused to go down.
The Draconis Combine surely knew how to design a mech.
Seeing the Jenner inches away from death, the other three combatants quickly zeroed in it, racing to claim the prize. I used this opportunity to hurt the Flea, since it seemed to be the most intelligent combatant of all. When the Flea's guns were trained on the Jenner, I hit my alpha strike from its left flank. The Flea bent to the right as my missiles slammed into its left torso. I followed up with my laser, which stripped the left torso even more. One more missile hit and the structure caved in, destroying half of the internal structure inside. Fire and smoke burst from the wound, and the Flea was forced to take an early exit from the race.
The BattleHawk claimed the prize, killing the Jenner with one swift sweep. Then it turned its guns at me. One unfortunate blast hit my right arm, weakened by the Javelin five minutes ago. The laser struck deep into the internal structure and damaged the pulse laser. Now I was left with missile. I had to watch for the ammunition, or I would need to throw stone to finish the fight, just like my thought before the fight.
I triggered my jets backward while firing my missiles at the BattleHawk. It sidestepped to the right, but the Javelin was waiting. A dozen missiles shredded the armor of at the back, pushing it forward. The BattleHawk faltered, and when it regained its footing, I hit it from the front, keeping it off balance. Then the Javelin shoved it forward again, chastising its thin rear armor. The BattleHawk swayed left and right, hopelessly trying to stand tall amidst the crossfire. But it was too damaged to keep in play. One salvo from the Javelin took it out. It crashed to the ground, burning and crackling.
I knew that the Javelin packed a hefty punch, so I tried to swing to its back, away from the twin SRM6. Out of nowhere, the Flea emerged and showered the Javelin with its flamer. The Javelin, already hot from repeated shot at the BattleHawk, quickly flushed half of its coolant, but the Flea did not let it cool down easy. As soon as it recycled, it fired the flamer again. Two-third of the Javelin's body was covered in sweltering goo, and the pilot knew sooner or later his mech would shut down, and became a sitting duck. He ejected.
That guaranteed me on the second place, and ten thousand c-bills. Initially I did not expect to get this position, but since I reached second place, might as well tried for the first. I launched my missile, but the Flea dodged it. It retaliated with its laser, and when it got into range, it spurted its flaming phlegm again. I felt heat spiked inside the cockpit as my right leg was caught by the fire. The heat definitely slowed my down, thus making me an even easier target for the Flea. However, I could not rush flushing my coolant; otherwise I would end up like the Javelin.
So I let my mech burnt, and when the Flea recycled to fire another round, I fired my missiles. Warning sign blared into my ears, saying that I had exceeded critical heat. Nevertheless, my shot hit the Flea on the center, right when it fired its flamer. The explosion threw its target, and the stream of burning gel splashed on the ground. Undaunted, the Flea followed up with its laser, but I flushed one-third of coolant and ran in circle, away from its small lasers. The Flea lunged at me with full force, trying to catch me with the flamer again, but I decked it with a well-placed salvo to the midst. The 20-ton mech quivered and started to spurt smoke. I wished I still had my pulse laser working. It would sure come in handy. But I did not have any choice. As the Flea jumped toward me again, I prepared my final assault.
I knew the guy liked his flamer, so I timed my shot, every time my shot hit the Flea in the center, so its flamer shot was deflected. Repeated blows to the center weakened its armor. I brought my mech to a standstill, waiting for the Flea to deliver its flamer shot. As I predicted, the Flea hit me with a long stream of flaming gel. I took its best shot. Sweat streamed down my face as heat surged into the cockpit. But now the Flea had to wait, and it was really close on my flank. I pivoted and buried two missiles into its center torso. The flamer container broke, spilling gallons of gel. A small spark triggered an inferno, and within seconds, the Flea was swallowed by raging fire.
At this point, I knew the Flea would not be able to do anything, and I just had to wait until the pilot ejected. But Solaris was a different situation than the battlefield, and I did not want to take any chance. I put my crosshair on the center of the Flea, and as soon as it was ready, I sent missiles toward the weakened front armor. The ground shook as the Flea erupted like a geyser, sending burning titanium to a wide area.
Thus concluded my first Solaris victory.