TWENTY FOUR
Steiner Coliseum, Silesia,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,
February 1, 3066
It took me a great deal of money and time to restore my mech. Now that I was independent from any stable, there was no chance I got another mech for the assault championship. Red Baron was all I got. But it was always all I got. I beat Ranna Kerensky and Jerome Helmer, probably two best warriors I had ever met. I spent roughly one-third of my winnings to restore it to working condition. And once again I drove it into the Coliseum, facing 31 other finalists in the biggest game I had ever played.
And the last.
Kyle entered the arena with a unique Outrider, one of Davion answers to Fafnir, Steiner's flagship. A well blend of speed, armor, and firepower, the Outrider sported 2 Gauss rifles, a large laser, and medium lasers as backup weapons. Hauptmann-Kommandant Robinson marched toward his designated spot in his Hauptmann, painted in traditional blue-white Lyran. A Thunder Hawk and a Warhawk sandwiched him side by side, clearly bearing Lyran fists on their center torso. And so did 10 of other mechs.
"Here we go again, Parker," Kyle hailed me. "I've rallied Davion and Marik loyalists, plus some wildcards and mercenaries, nine in total. They're going to work together with us against 13 Lyran partisans. We're still short of mechs, but the last two might just disrupt the Steiners. Hopefully there will be enough space for us to make a run for Robinson."
"You and me?" I confirmed.
"You and me," Kyle reassured. "We're the only ones fast enough to do it."
"You know, Robinson wants me to kill you," I snorted. "Why do you dare to trust me on this?"
"I don't," I caught a slight chuckle. "But I trust Evee, and she trusts you."
My smile blossomed amidst the blare of the horn. Spheroids. I could never completely understand them. They were raw, crude, and sometimes irrational. But they had their own way of expressing their feelings, something that I lacked of. I had to say I was intrigued. Perhaps it was the nurture of a mother that made them that way. Something that I definitely lacked of.
The Steiner's Thunder Hawk and Warhawk moved in toward me while others attacked mechs that did not bear Lyran insignias. A Templar boldly threw itself in front of a Lyran Awesome, virtually blocking its line of fire from me. The two quickly traded fire, a Lyran Longbow sneaked behind the cover of the Thunder Hawk and sprouted its Arrow IV batteries. The artillery missiles sheared the Templar's right arm in one sweep, leaving a burning stump crackling while the 85-ton machine spun out of control.
"Potential threat with Arrow IV, left flank," I called Kyle. "I am going in."
"I hate artillery mech," Kyle growled in response. "Go for it. I'll delay the Thunder Hawk."
The T-Hawk raised both arms, but Kyle's double Gauss slugs slammed into its left torso, forcing it to twist left. I sprinted toward the Longbow, desperately trying to hide behind the troll-like T-Hawk, waiting for its Arrow to reload. I put my crosshair squarely against its torso and burnt a ton of armor with a direct hit.
"So it's Davion you're sided with," Robinson's voice crackled. "What a shame."
"You said I would know what was there for me," I replied while preparing my cannons. "My best course is to stay away from your pointless civil war. I will never submit to your cause, Robinson."
"Noble words, trashborn, but prove little," his voice was ridged with disdain. "And I suppose the Davion thinks it's better not to mess around with a Clanner."
"Kyle is," and I did not believe myself when I said, "my friend."
"Then die with your friend!" his word preceded nasty particle claws, coring my right arm while pushing me off balance. My faithful mech staggered, but I gently led it to use the momentum to swing left, keeping the focus on the Longbow. I could deal with the Hauptmann later, but the Arrow IV had to be silenced as quickly as possible.
The Longbow recycled and turned toward me, aiming its big guns with grace. At 500 meters, I knew there was nothing I possessed that could deflect the artillery missiles. So I widened my feet, taking a stable stance, and braced for impact. The missiles leapt into the sky, leaving perfect arcs behind, and blasted me right on the center. The jerk snapped my head forward, almost hitting the console. The heavy neurohelmet strain my neck so hard I thought my head had flown toward the window. Incredible quake washed the cockpit, and the armor gauge blinked in red fury.
Nevertheless, I remained standing, and the Longbow had to wait for another 8 seconds to reload. It was my turn to smash it. The sudden forward move jerked me behind, fast against the command couch. The Longbow backpedaled, firing medium lasers to ward me off, but I quickly entered the 300-m barrier, and hit my trigger. My lasers melted the armor on its right arm, and my LBX-20's cored a deep gash in a splinter storm. Smoke billowed from the tube-like arms, and for a moment, the Longbow careened to its left side.
I did not know if I disabled its right Arrow, but I could not take a chance. My lasers recycled faster than its Arrow, so I fired it as soon as it was ready. Molten armor sprayed over the wall. As the Longbow realigned its missile tubes, I turned left, circling the 85-ton mech, away from its dangerous lock.
Still, my proximity alarm screeched in useless knowledge. The missiles launched again, but at 250 meters, I might be able to dodge them. I slanted left as far as I could, missing the missiles by a mere centimeter. They snaked and looped behind me, altering its course, now targeting my rear. I pivoted and sidestepped them, but one blew a ton of armor on my right hip. The quake almost toppled my mech, but I quickly compensated, bending my knees to divert the momentum. The other missile slammed into the ground, kicking debris and smoke into the air.
Once again the Longbow retreated, but I was not about to let it go easily. My left LBX-20 barked, sending a hail of razor-edged munitions at the gouged right arm. A brilliant fireball expanded from the right tube. The Longbow swayed from left to right, coping with the sudden force that threatened to knock it down. My lasers found a mark on the left arm, and my right LBX-20 finished what my laser beams started. The left tube cracked, and judging by the size of the wound, I knew the Longbow would not fire its missiles anymore. With only medium lasers left, the Longbow turned its back and sneaked behind other Steiner mechs, driving off to safety.
"Artillery is disposed," I diverted my attention toward Kyle and the rest of the mechs. About one-third of the combatants had been knocked out, and what remained would not stay long, except Robinson. His crews deftly covered him, so he had not been hit yet. The Davion-Marik-mercenary coalition surprisingly held the Steiners Kyle's mech boldly went toe-to-toe with the T-Hawk. The extra 15 tons of the T-Hawk failed to deal with Kyle's far-fetched speed. It was a matter of time before it fell. But Kyle was taking damage himself, peppered from afar by an Awesome bearing Chinese Bandits insignia.
"Get that sonofabitch off my back, will ya?" Kyle growled. "I'm busy with this Lyran troll."
My lasers streaked across the field, hitting the Awesome on its right torso. I could see the yellow-painted torso glowed in orange hue. The Awesome came back with its triple PPC. Only one connected to my left arm, but it was enough to send my mech spiraling. I held the joystick backward, then slammed my foot on the pedal, demanding speed. My lasers came online, and I fired my second salvo at the Awesome, peppering its left torso. Burning metal sloshed in fiery droplets.
The Awesome furiously attacked me in cascade, firing its PPCs one at a time. I dodged the first, but caught the second. My right torso sparked in blue as half my gauges went dead. The third flew above my head, mostly because the excess heat made the targeting computer unreliable. Steamy coolant hissed out of its back.
I lined up with its damaged left torso, and my lasers had already cored the armor when two blue streaks drilled its torso, right where the armor had been severely depleted. The attack went deep into the internal structure, spilling plasma from breached reactor. The Chinese Bandit turned its right arm toward the incoming Hauptmann, but four more PPC bolts singed its reactor. As the Awesome dropped to one knee, the Hauptmann sprinted full speed, quickly getting into the LBX range. Before the Awesome could rise, the large cannon on the Hauptmann's shoulder flashed. The Awesome fused into a fireball.
"You've picked the wrong side of the war, Clanner," the Hauptmann dashed at me. "Now die!"
His PPCs barked again, one of which grazed me left shoulder, sending armor bits flying behind. His missiles followed suit, ravaging my weakened left torso. The jarring impact almost ripped my eardrums, and my left laser went dark, swallowed by the wave of explosions that consumed my mech.
I inspected Robinson's Hauptmann, and came to a bitter realization that he did not even have a scratch yet. All this time, he just watched his goons did the hard work while picking up fights with critically damaged mechs. What a shame act for such a renowned officer like himself. It was people like him, along with Omar, Daniels, and many more, that gave Solaris game a bad name.
The Warhawk kept its distance and blasted me from extreme distance. Two bolts snapped my right arm, flailing it away from Robinson's mech. I smelled burning myomer, and I knew it would not stay very long. The Warhawk fired another round of PPCs, but a bright red light burnt its armor on the right arm, followed by two 125-kilo nickel-ferrous slugs onto its weakened armor. The upper arm shattered like a twig, and the PPC-laden arm dangled with burning strands of myomer.
"Get him!" Kyle practically screamed in my ears. "I'll hold the Masakari!"
Wasting no time, I fired my remaining laser, straight at Robinson's right torso. The slanted torso turned into a pool of burning metal. He shrugged the attack, then aimed his large-bored scattershot autocannon at my right arm, but I caught him first. Both my LBX cannons bellowed, raining down depleted-uranium bits on the Inner Sphere omnimech. The Hauptmann swayed, weathering the attack, then launched its fury.
Both arms flashed, firing charged particles in claw-like streams that sheared my right arm off. I held my joystick hard, but the subsequent LBX round shoved my mech too far behind. I did not want to fall flat on my back, so I pushed the joystick down, coercing my mech to crouch. Robinson's missiles flew over my head and arced to the ground, sending shakes throughout the arena.
A fine mech, the Hauptmann was. But as many other Lyran warriors, Robinson relied on large-bored weaponries and the thick hide of the Hauptmann a little too much. A classic, archetypal Lyran doctrine of warfare.
So I pushed my mech back up and sprinted toward his left flank, peppering his right torso with my laser. As soon as my cannon ready, I let it go. The Hauptmann hunched over, and smoke started billowing from multiple cracks.
Robinson dragged his mech to backpedal and spread his arms, but at 250 meters, the PPC was highly inaccurate. The blue flash soared past my mech, not even close enough to raise the temperature. My position on his left side negated his chance to use other weapons. The reversed-joint legs made it awkward to backpedal, and from his hesitant movements, I knew he realized that his doom was looming close. He might be a fine warrior and a good commander. But here, now, I ruled over him.
My laser gauge went green, signaling its readiness. I tore a slab of armor on his right torso, then sank a power punch with my LBX cannon. The right torso caved in, squashing the LBX ammunition feeder. Tongues of fire jetted from the torso. The CASE system held back the explosion to the right torso area, but the entire torso disintegrated into a furious blast. The Hauptmann bent and grazed the sand, supported by only its left arm.
My sweat had drenched my face, but I endured the ache of sitting inside a blazing cockpit, and fired another round of laser at Robinson's remaining arm. Then I brought my mech to close in and decked the Hauptmann's arm with my foot. Metallic crunch echoed throughout the arena, and the Hauptmann tumbled forward, arm flailing in useless twist.
"You lost today, but the Lyran Alliance might still have a use of you," I hailed him through general frequency. "Let this be known to you that I have no side in your civil war. Yield and I will let you live."
His reply was long delayed, but much obliged. "You bastard! This is not over, trashborn!"
"It is," I replied, taking steps backward. "It is for me."
I turned my back, but much to my surprise, my proximity alarm screamed. I had only a second to realize that Robinson did not mean everything he said. Or was it me that misinterpreted this is not over? I did not know. Another Inner Sphere treat that I had a hard time to understand. His missiles clobbered my thinned rear armor. Warning sign deafened me as power dropped down to 35 percent. My mech lost its balance, and I did not have enough power to hang on. I let it dropped to one knee.
Mad and provoked, I smelled coolant bleeding from my back, and I prepared myself to stand my ground. I spread my arm and twisted, but instead the Hauptmann, I saw the Outrider. One arm was missing; the other was a breath away from breaching. Smoke billowed from its torso, and the Gauss cannons had long gone. But it stood proudly, one foot on top of the Hauptmann's face, crushing the head against the sand of the Coliseum.
"You should've killed him whenever you had a chance," Kyle scoffed. "You lost your instinct, Parker."
"I am indebted to you," I pushed my mech to stand up. "My thanks."
"Come on, one more Lyran," Kyle stomped on the head of the Hauptmann one more time, ensuring Robinson would not repeat his stunt. "Then we have the end for ourselves."
There were only 3 mechs standing on the arena. The other one was the white Atlas I encountered at Montenegro. It was in no better condition than the two of us. Both arms were gone, and one laser strike would probably destroy it. But it might still have weapons that could destroy us. It was hard to tell, since my radar had long gone, fried to the last component by the Warhawk's PPC strike.
"Spread out," Kyle said. "Take his left. I'll pound his right."
"Left it is," I pushed my foot on the pedal. I lost so much power that I could only run half as fast, but it was enough to confuse the Atlas. Missiles leapt from its launcher, swarming me like drones. I closed my eyes and put my fate in the hands of my mech. My remaining laser dropped dead as my right torso breached. Fire raged out of control. Nevertheless, my mech remained intact. How, I was not sure. It seemed that the pounding it received since the start of the championship only pushed it to get madder.
A bright javelin from the Outrider stabbed the Atlas in the midst, flaring a bonfire that had long been subdued. I raised my arm and fired my LBX-20 at the fringe of its range. The Atlas bent, coping with the momentum, but quickly retaliated with its missiles. The swarm swept the arm of the Outrider in an explosive storm, but Kyle was not intimidated. Twin medium lasers burnt the remaining body part of the Atlas, and I added a blast with my LBX-20. Three internal explosions ripped the Atlas into shards, and the remaining body slumped to the ground, still alive, but had nothing left to fight with.
"I'm overheated," Kyle stated. "Finish him up, Parker."
"Alright, stand back," I raised my left arm, lining up with the Atlas' blazing torso. As soon as Kyle reached a safe distance, I mashed my trigger. An orange fireball claimed the place where the Atlas had been a moment ago, raining splinters over a wide area.
"Nice work, Parker," Kyle mentioned. "That leaves the two of us. May the best warrior win."
There we were again. We had been conquering arenas for the last four years, blasting mechs after mechs, and it came down to this. But we had never really fought side by side, until today. I did not know if he felt the same way, but I always saw him as a threat. A threat to everything I owned: my dignity, my self-respect, and Evee. He owned everything that I lost. I fought him my hardest because he was my demon.
But then, I realized that if it was not because of him, Evee would be dead on Carver V. I would not have any hope with her. And no matter how hostile I was at him, he took it like a gentleman that he always was. I saw no point in this fighting anymore. Well, I did not want to fight anymore.
"No," I replied. "Let this be the end of our rivalry. There is nothing more to prove."
"What are you saying?" he bemoaned, demanding explanation. "Do you concede?"
"You misinterpret me. I do not want to fight you anymore, but I fight you if you insist."
"Hmm… co-champions? Is that what you are offering?"
"Aff, co-champions. I think Evee would like it this way."
"Yeah, you're right," he sighed. "She'll like it. When you see her, tell her I miss her."
"I will," I smiled. I felt nothing. "Farewell, Kyle Garret. Good luck with the civil war of yours."
"Thanks. And good luck with her. She'll be proud of you."
The horn sounded, acknowledging our decision to not finish this fight to the last mech standing. I sunk in my command couch. The smell of the sand had never been so sweet, because I knew it was the last time I would smell it. Charred hulks marred the arena, and it served as a guide as I led my mech into the hangar. For one last time I took a glance at the Coliseum. Fame, money, deception, greed, fire, smoke, blood, all mended into one giant chapter in my life that I would soon close when I left Solaris, to open another page in another part of the universe.