Chapter 17
Iron Skull Mountain,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,
August 10, 3068
Stan's old Cylcops perched in its faded glory, still bearing Marik's eagle crest although time and enemy fires had scrubbed off most of the paint. It was way past its life as a battlemech, and Stan would probably get more money selling it as scrap than continued fighting with it in the arenas, but there was something magical about the Cylcops that Stan wasn't ready to let go.
The Cyclops was a terrifying war machine, up to Clan invasion. After that, it became an antiquity, just like Mickey's Jenner. Most existing Cyclops had gone through tremendous modification to keep up with newer, deadlier mechs, and Stan's Cyclops was no difference. It carried the massive Heavy Gauss rifle as the primary weapons, supported by 2 medium lasers and 1 SRM4. An alpha strike of Stan's Cyclops would cripple even the most heavily-armed mech like Atlas or Daishi.
As Stan secured himself in the cockpit, he watched his supporters with a little unease. Kilroy, Major Tom, Mickey and Hyolee had been his constant supporters, which made sense because Major Tom was his best friend and the two teens were like his own children. But today, he had Jeremy as Kilroy's assistant. Not that it was a bad thing, but Stan wasn't used to have another man as his supporters, especially somebody that he didn't like.
"Alright, I managed to get this info from the street," Jeremy said as Kilroy prepped Stan in the cockpit. "You have an Atlas, a Victor, and a Stalker as your oppositions. The Stalker and Victor are rivals, so wait until they did serious damage to each other. Additionally, the Stalker has a weak spot on its left side, so if it beat the Victor, you have to aim at its left side for a quick kill. So your only problem is the Atlas. Kill it, and you'll be fine."
"Thanks," Stan replied in short. As Mac's replacement, Jeremy set up a new standard for a team member. He supported his teammates in the arena and supplied critical information for them. Not even Stan did what Jeremy did when Mickey was in the arena. The stable members used to be disconnected individuals fighting under the same name, and now everything went together like a team should be, with Jeremy as the glue.
Strangely enough, Stan still felt uncomfortable around Jeremy.
The arena had a skull-like structure at the center, hence the name. Each combatant was placed on the opposite sides of the skull. The Atlas was directly in front of Stan, while the rivaling Victor and Stalker were placed on Stan's left and right. This posed quite a problem because Stan would have to fight his way through one of them before he could get to the Atlas. On the other hand, the Atlas could fight another one before it fought Stan.
In Stan's ideal situation, he would fight the Stalker first. Hopefully he could sink one or two salvos at the Stalker's weak left side to disable it with only minimum damages to the Cyclops. The Atlas should finish the Victor, but received some damages. With a little luck, Stan could beat the Atlas to win the game.
But everything was not as easy at Stan wanted it to be. As the fight start, the Atlas held its ground, waiting as both the Stalker and the Victor ran toward Stan. Stan scoffed in irony. Everybody would avoid the Atlas and turned toward Stan for easier kill. Now he had to fight the Stalker and the Victor at the same time. His only hope was the fact that the Stalker and Victor were sworn enemies, and would go at each other at the earliest contact.
"Pray that you're right, Jeremy," Stan fizzled as he held his joystick. "Otherwise, I kill you."
The Victor cleared the skull first and immediately fired its missiles. Stan felt the tremor as the missiles hammered his right arm. Then the Stalker came and launched its own missiles, adding Stan's missery. The entire cockpit shook and rumbled; panels were busted and cables were ripped from the wall, dangling with sparks like waterfall. Stan held his joystick hard, weathering the crossfire, keeping his mech steady.
Then the Victor turned toward the Stalker and fired its Gauss rifle. The nickel-ferrous slug bludgeoned the Stalker's left leg, carving a jagged cavity. The Stalker swayed as it sustained the impact, but quickly regained balance and fired its lasers. Two strands missed the Victor, but the rest – including the large lasers – stabbed the Victor on its left torso.
Stan accessed his damage, and was thrilled to see his Cyclops in moderate condition. He lost 50-percent of armor on the torso and right arm, but it could be worse. He slipped behind the Victor as the 80-ton mech engaged the Stalker in full fury. He set his eyes on the Atlas, still hanging out by itself at the far end of the arena, waiting for the other combatants to shoot each other up.
Stan gunned his engine, bringing his Cyclops to full speed, charging the Atlas. The 100-ton mech read Stan's strategy and started to move. Stan realized that his chance to win was determined by his opening shot. If he could hurt it, he had a good chance to win. But the Atlas carried an UAC20, the nastiest short-range gun available. If he got hit even once, he could kiss his chance goodbye.
Unfortunately, his fight with the Atlas would have to wait. A rattling explosion jarred the entire arena, and when Stan turned around, he saw the Stalker had been blown up to bits. He didn't know if the Victor sank a lucky shot at the Stalker's weak side, or if the pilot had the same information as he did. The only thing he cared was he had a better chance fighting the Victor than the Atlas.
Before the Atlas had a clear shot at him, Stan turned his Cyclops and charged the Victor. The front armor of the 80-ton Davion mech was shredded by the Stalker, but nevertheless it fired all weapons at Stan. The Gauss slug flew past Stan's head and blasted the wall behind him, but its missiles hammered Stan's left shoulder. The Cylcops trembled, sustaining the impact of half a dozen short missiles.
Stan steadied his old Cyclops, then calmly realigned his crosshair at the Victor's midst. The deep scar on its center torso looked very tempting. Looking for a one-punch kill, Stan let loose his monstrous Heavy Gauss slug. The Victor made a frantic twist, but couldn't escape Stan's wrath entirely. The Heavy Gauss slug slammed into its right torso, shearing off the entire structure. Tongues of fire bled out from the stump. The impact almost made it stumble, but the pilot pulled off a respectable striving to keep the mech on its feet.
Before the Victor could fire back, Stan followed up with his lasers and missiles, half of which hammered the Victor's scarred armor. Another set of internal explosions rocked the 80-ton mech, and it teetered on its heels, trying to return fire but was hopelessly obscured by smoke and fire from its torso.
Stan's Heavy Gauss gun blinked, ready to take the coupe de grace, but the image of the hobling Victor reminisced too much of Major Tom's Battlemasterr, ten years ago, at Chaos March. Relentless artillery fire from Davion loyalists seared Major Tom's mech to the brink of annihilation. The scream of Major Tom came back to torture him, and he forgot everything he was doing. He just froze there, watching the Victor dragged its feet away from his line of fire.
The console klaxons woke him up from his daydream, seconds before a viscious quake swept him over. The Atlas had emerged and sank an alpha strike into Stan's right side, which wasn't difficult considering Stan was standing like a fool in the middle of the arena. Bits of plexiglass stabbed him in the face, and acrid smoke twirled into the cockpit. The Cyclops swayed to the left, and only Stan's quick reflex saved it from falling over. The Atlas' UAC20 tore a bad gash on Stan's right torso.
Stan cursed, then twisted to fire his Heavy Gauss. He aimed for the Atlas' head for a quick kill, but with a busted targetting system, his slug hit the Atlas' center torso. The huge mech staggered, spitting ferro-fibrous splinters and titanium bits as big as Stan's head. The raw power of the Heavy Gauss punched a hole on the Atlas' armor all the way to the internal structure.
But the Atlas took the punch well. It quickly regained composure, and lined up its UAC20 with the Cyclops. Stan knew the fight was over for him. There was no way he could escape it. He just braced himself as the mammoth gun roared, carving holes on his center torso. His Cyclops bled fire and coolant, and before Stan could reach for his ejection lever, he was thrown out of his cockpit.
As Stan glided down to safety, the Atlas proceeded to bludgeon the Victor, which fell as quick as his Cyclops. Now he had a chance to observe the Atlas. It was painted in white, and a blade was painted on its left torso, the sign of the Word of Blake. Stan knew that this group was trying to establish its domination over the Inner Sphere, taking advantage of the weakened Lyran Alliance and Federated Suns after the civil war. Sooner or later they would flood Solaris blood pits, too.
A truck picked him up and brought him back to the hangar. Mickey and Hyolee greeted him with somber look, while Kilroy and Jeremy gave him a sympathetic gaze. It made Stan irritated. He didn't need anybody to feel sorry for him. All he needed was a better mech, something like an Atlas that could slug it out with the best mechs in the field. But Stan knew better than dissing Jeremy's good intention. Whether he liked it or not, Jeremy's attitude brought good changes to the stable.
"You'll get them next time," Jeremy said. "We'll have another day."
"Yeah," Stan replied unenthusiastically. "Thanks." He gave Mickey and Hyolee a courtesy nod, then walked away from the hangar. "Sure, I'll get them next time… Blakist frakkers!"