I am Jade Falcon Page 5

  "I could have finished her off alone," Castilla said in a sinister voice.

  "Do not be so sure of that," Joanna said. "Your strategy, if it deserves that name, is stupid. I will ignore the fact that you presently violate honor duel rules, for obviously you new-breeds cannot be bothered by the tradition. No matter. You have, with your precious delaying tactic, given me time to get my wind back. I will gladly take on the two of you at once, and get all this over with."

  What am I thinking? I can barely stand up—and here I am issuing foolish challenges. If this pain in my back gets any worse, I'll have to hobble out of here.

  Touching the painful spot on her lower spine, Joanna's hand happened to brush against the gloves Diana had placed in her belt. Realizing immediately what they were, she gave them a casual tuck to make them even more secure.

  "We do not wish to violate any cherished tradition," Cholas remarked, as he walked alongside Castilla. "We will face you one at a time. Quiaff, Castilla?"

  "Anything to get this over with," Castilla said, as she took Cholas' chivalrously offered arm. "We two can couple all the earlier then."

  Joanna's laugh was more derisive than usual. "Couple? You think about that in the midst of a fight?"

  "It is ... exciting after combat. Cholas and I ..."

  "You pair are a new breed, all right. What kind of warrior considers field tent lust while still in a fight?"

  Castilla's face matched Joanna's in scorn. "I pity you, old one. You are missing so much."

  The idiocy of their words filled Joanna with anger. She burst into a quick run, ignoring the pelting rain against her face. Cholas and Castilla assumed battle postures. Either one could have knocked Joanna backward—if she had gone straight at one of them. Instead, she ran between them, stopping only to elbow Cholas aside while she landed a mean kick on Castilla's hip. Both young warriors were sent reeling and sliding on the wet ground.

  Joanna sought position. Better to show these eyasses the value of a strategic retreat, she thought, as she ran under the 'Mech knee from which Cholas had originally emerged.

  She came out into an open area. Ahead of her was a 'Mech head resting a bit crookedly on the ground, and she realized it was exactly what she needed, a confined position that would give her a strategic advantage. She ran toward it, her pace increasing as she heard scuffling feet slipping and sliding behind her. She chose not to look back. After all, the younger warriors might be running faster than she was—no point in knowing that.

  The hatchway leading into the 'Mech head's cockpit was open and facing the ground. From ground level the opening was just above her head. If her arms, weary from hanging off roofs and windows, did not fail her, she could make it.

  Without breaking stride, Joanna jumped up, grabbed the hatchway's lower rim, and pulled herself up and in. The sounds of pursuit suddenly stopped. The only noises were the loud beating of the rain against the 'Mech's outer surfaces. It sounded like the rain was now mixed with hail.

  Twisting around to peer out of the hatchway, Joanna saw Castilla and Cholas standing below, arms akimbo and feet spread apart. Their clothes soaked through and their hair in wet tangles, they were obviously enraged.

  "Going to ground?" Cholas shouted.

  "In an honor duel?" Castilla yelled.

  "Just as honorable as your ganging-up strategy."

  "Now you are just being testy," Cholas said. His diction was so precise and his manner so foolish that he did not sound like a Jade Falcon warrior at all. This brat better rise up the ranks quickly, Joanna thought, or he will be assassinated by members of his own Star.

  "You will have to fight me one at a time now," Joanna said softly. "See? There is strategy and strategy. But why am I giving you simple basic training? They tell me you passed your Trials."

  Her insult clearly rankled them. Castilla lunged forward, but Cholas put his hand on her arm and drew her back. They began whispering together. Joanna could hear none of their words.

  Damn! Now they are conferring! I wish I had a weapon. Then I could just shoot the both of them and be done with this.

  Joanna could see that the cockpit interior had been scavenged for all usable parts. Clan techs and warriors must have performed the scavenging for they were even more thorough than the Spheroids. That should have given her Clan pride a boost, but right now it was irritating because if left her with only useless junk for weapons. It was a small cockpit. She could stand up in it if hunched over, but she could also touch the two opposite walls appreciably stretching her arms.

  Cholas and Castilla had completed their deliberations, and Castilla was approaching the 'Mech head. With the back of her hand, Joanna agitatedly wiped the rain and sweat off of her face, then glanced down at the cockpit floor. Nothing much there but nuts, bolts, wire. If only she had kill privileges in this honor duel, the wire would have been a godsend.

  The cracked shell of a console lay on one side of the compartment. It was obvious from all its black streaks that the scanner originally housed in the shell had been burned. Reaching for it, Joanna wrenched it from its weak moorings. A few short wires dangled beneath its jagged border.

  She felt the 'Mech's head lurch as Castilla hit its side running, then Castilla's hands immediately appeared on the bottom rim of the hatchway. With as much force as she could accomplish in the cockpit's close confines, Joanna brought the console shell down, jagged end first, onto Castilla's hands. Castilla yelped with pain, but she wiggled one hand—blood flowing from several cuts—from beneath the console. Grabbing the console with it, she pushed upward with such power that the upper end of the shell smashed into Joanna's face. Joanna gave out her own sudden yelp, the pain momentarily making her dizzy. Blinking, she pushed at the shell, trying to slam it back onto Castilla's hands, but the younger woman intruded her hand inside the shell. Using a backhand thrust, she flung the shell out of Joanna's hand and out of the hatchway, It clanged against the side of the hatch on the way down. With a grunt loud enough to reverberate off the cockpit's walls, Castilla pulled herself upward and in. Keeping her head down, she rammed it against Joanna's already throbbing nose.

  Joanna pushed at Castilla's shoulders, but the young warrior's strength was impressive. While resisting Joanna, she slowly set her legs on the bottom rim of the hatchway and achieved an edge in leverage. The leverage was only marginally useful because the cockpit was too compact for successful infighting. Castilla shoved at Joanna and slammed her back against the wall. Joanna responded with a shove that immediately bounced Castilla's back against the opposite wall.

  In the closeness of the cockpit the odor of their wet uniforms was overpowering. Water squeezed out of the cloth each time one grabbed the other's clothing.

  Castilla worked her elbow up and tried to drive it into Joanna's throat. She did cut off Joanna's air supply for a second, but the threat of death only drove Joanna to gather that extra little bit of strength. With excruciating effort, she was able to counter Castilla's maneuver by twisting her head sideways, then shoving Castilla away.

  Their legs interlocked as lovers in passion, but their passionless attempts were futile. They fell awkwardly to the floor, still holding onto each other. Neither could render effective harm to the other. All they could do was squirm around and then wind up in distorted positions.

  "Castilla."

  "My name is ugly in your mouth.”

  “Your mouth is ugly."

  The wrathful Castilla could do no more than squirm more and mutter, "Your breath is foul."

  "Enough," Joanna said. "We can trade insults later. But why fight in here any longer? This is not fighting, it is erosion. Our strength wastes away. We need to get out of here."

  The cockpit's heat was stifling, adding to all the other odors, Joanna was perspiring profusely, the sweat and the smells making breaming nearly impossible.

  "Bargained well and done," Castilla said. "Since I am closer to the exit, I will go to it. Then, you."

  "As you wish."

  Castill
a twisted and squirmed toward the hatchway, leaving Joanna sitting on the floor to watch. As Castilla stood and leaned her head through the hatchway, turning her body for the climb down, Joanna raised both her legs and kicked at Castilla's hip. The unanticipated move sent the younger woman straight through the opening. Joanna smiled as she listened to Castilla's relatively subdued scream as she fell. Scrambling quickly to her feet, she looked out to see the other warrior lying in an enormous puddle at the base of the 'Mech's head, blood streaming down one side of her face. The way she held her left arm, it was surely injured.

  Castilla twisted her mouth into its most grotesque position yet as she screamed, "That was not fair!"

  "I do not recall agreeing on fair."

  "Freebirth!"

  Joanna jumped straight down and deliberately landed on Castilla's uninjured arm with both heavy-booted feet. Puddle water splashed high.

  "That, my dear young eyas, was not fair." She kicked at the young warrior's ribs as hard as she could. "That was not fair either." She strode away, satisfied that Castilla was incapacitated. "But what I did—all of it—was well within the way of the Clans, MechWarrior Castilla."

  Cholas was nowhere in sight as the rain and hail now seemed to be coming down in a flood. A flicker of movement to her right, where some battered servomotors were piled high, was either a trick of the weather—or Cholas. Joanna moved toward where the flicker had been.

  "It is up to you now, Cholas," Castilla shouted. "Do not fail us!"

  Joanna's response was laughter, loud and derisive. She slogged on, across wet ground that was rapidly turning into muck.

  5

  Salvage Yard Number 3

  Pattersen, Sudeten

  Jade Falcon Occupation Zone

  1 July 3057

  Cholas stepped out casually from his hiding place behind the pile of servomotors. The laser pistol in his hand was pointed somewhat to the left of Joanna. He probably intends to whip it around fancily and kill me with his finesse, she thought.

  In spite of the increasing torrent, Cholas seemed relatively dry except for strips of wetness on his clothing.

  "Where did you get that?" Joanna asked, coolly gesturing toward the weapon.

  "Oh, this? I found it."

  "Impossible."

  "Why is that, Star Captain Joanna?"

  "All this junk has been picked clean by Clan techs."

  "An honorable profession, scavenging. Impairs wastage."

  "You may not use that weapon. We bid away our personal weapons, you know that."

  "Yes, and I left mine behind with Horse. I do not know how this one came to be where I found it."

  How convenient, thought Joanna. Aloud, she said, "However that pistol came to be here, you may not use it."

  "I believe we agreed we could use whatever we discovered here. Well, I found this. I regret to use it, but I do not choose humiliation. You have humiliated us thus far, and I do not like that. This will be spoken of back at camp and we will be the laughingstock of—"

  "You should have considered that before issuing the challenge."

  "And what kind of Clan warriors would we be if we had shied away from a fight?"

  "About the same kind you already are."

  "You use words the same way you fight, Star Captain."

  "A Jade Falcon warrior hurt by words? Tell me, Cholas, are you an actual Clan warrior or is this some kind of dramatic performance?"

  Cholas sent a beam toward Joanna's feet. It left a short trail of smoke as it gutted the ground in a narrow line traveling toward the toe of her boot. The line immediately began to fill with rain.

  Joanna sighed. This pistol was not powered down.

  But she was not bothered by the danger, the one thing this fool had not figured on. He did not suspect how little she cared whether she lived or died.

  "Do you plan to kill me then, Cholas?"

  "It is not allowed by the bid."

  "You do not seem one would hesitate to violate a bid.”

  “I am Clan!”

  “Oh, yes, I forgot."

  As Joanna began to walk toward him, her boots sloshed through a deep puddle.

  "So shoot, Cholas. You know how to shoot, quiaff. Push back on the little piece below the barrel. We experienced warriors call it a trigger. But you will learn."

  "Do not mock me! I have earned the right to be called warrior. I won my Trial—and, I might add, won it convincingly."

  "I do not doubt that. I won my Trial, too, and I thought highly of myself afterward. But Trials are not skirmishes, and skirmishes are not battles, and battles are not wars. You will learn all that—if you do not shoot yourself in the foot first."

  Cholas aimed the pistol. Joanna stared at his hand. In spite of her age, she had better eyesight than most. The other warriors joked that she could see a drop of sweat seep out of a pore. An exaggeration, perhaps, but her vision was good enough to see, in spite of the downpour, the skin of Cholas' trigger finger as it slightly bulged out when he began to squeeze the trigger, enough so that she could dodge to the side just in time to avoid the laser's azure beam.

  She broke into a run to her left and dived behind a lone 'Mech leg propped up nearby. The leg, bent at the knee, formed an impressive triangular tower. Water streamed off it onto her head.

  The area had become misty. Although she could no longer see Cholas, Joanna could hear him cursing. A rare thing, a warrior's curse, but not unknown when a tactic failed.

  "That was quick, Commander Joanna!" Cholas called out.

  He was trying to get her to respond so that he could learn her location. She remained silent. Studying the leg, she saw that several sheets of metal were missing at a spot just below the knee joint. The leg was hollow inside.

  On the other side of the leg she found, at ground level, a small triangular maintenance panel that would allow her access to the limb's interior. She crawled into it and was soon kneeling uncomfortably inside the hollow thigh. At least it is dry in here. Score another point for Clan technology.

  It was an easy crawl upward to the knee joint. When she came to the edge of the opening, Joanna looked down. Below, she could see her footprints. The rain made them look like foot-shaped puddles.

  Above the sounds of the storm, she heard the splash of Cholas' steps as he approached the 'Mech leg. He walked slowly and made no attempt to disguise the noise. Though still not able to see him, she sensed him making his way along the lower part of the leg, slowly and cautiously. When his left foot came into view, Joanna raised up slightly, ready to jump.

  "Cholas!" It was Castilla. She came forward, dragging one foot behind the other.

  "Stay back, Castilla."

  "But the two of us can—"

  "Let me do this alone. I do not need your help, Castilla."

  "We always—"

  "Be quiet. I can do this alone.”

  “I love you, Cholas.”

  “Quiet. Not here."

  Joanna nearly tumbled from her position. Had she heard right? An expression of romantic love between Clan warriors? That was village stuff, words for lower castes to relieve their disappointments about not being trueborn, not being warriors.

  Cholas came further into sight, holding his pistol high. He now stood where Joanna had waited only moments before. Castilla came closer, limping.

  There was no time to plan. Joanna knew only that she could not stay where she was. She quickly secured a grip on two handholds, drew her legs up, and swung through the knee-hole. As her legs arced outward, she released her grip and dropped down onto Cholas. Just before her feet made contact, one connecting with his head and the other with his shoulder, Castilla shouted a warning. But too late.

  The fall forward propelled Cholas' face straight into Joanna's muddy footprints. Joanna lurched sideways and sprang to her feet as Cholas twisted around, his face spotted with mud. His gun hand was still free and he aimed at Joanna. She leaped at him, grabbed the arm holding the weapon and slammed it into the muck. The gun tumbled awa
y, handle over barrel. Joanna intended to jump for it, but the still-agile Cholas slipped out of her grasp, rolled away, and rose to his knees. Using his arms to drive him forward, he butted Joanna in her chest. The blow was not strong, but it sent Joanna stumbling back. As she got up again, she suddenly realized how winded she was.

  For a moment the two combatants, Cholas on his knees, Joanna wobbly on her feet, stared at each other. Cholas' decorative band had ripped and was soiled in several places. Too bad, Cholas. Hope you have a spare for parades.

  Castilla limped into view. An odd smile distorting her odd mouth, she reached down and retrieved the pistol.

  Joanna's shoulders slumped. "You, too? Is there no one in your group who can fight without props?"

  "I do not know what you mean. We have been taught that the important goal is to prevail. We will prevail."

  Cholas stood up. "Do not shoot her, Castilla. I want to finish her off myself."

  Castilla casually shoved the pistol into her belt. "We will both finish her."

  Joanna smiled. "It is no problem for you to violate zellbrigen?"

  "To win, yes," Castilla said.

  "Emphatically," Cholas said and came at Joanna, arms raised, fists clenched.

  As she went into defensive posture, Joanna felt as if all the energy had drained out of her. Cholas' first blows showed he was not as weary as she. Still, she found the power for a sharp jab that sent him reeling backward.

  Castilla limped past Cholas. Joanna blocked her first loose swing, but then Castilla got in a backhanded strike that sent Joanna stumbling back.

  Wiping blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, Joanna realized the odds were simply against her. These two, even injured, were still too strong at this point in the contest.

  But she gained a moment as the two attackers stood there, apparently relishing the prospect of victory. Seeing their overconfidence Joanna faked some staggering. She let her arms fall limply to her sides and added to the drama by making her eyes look dazed. She wanted the pair to stand still for the few seconds she needed to reach for the studded gloves Diana had stuffed into the back of her belt. It had been a long time since Joanna had used gloves in a fight.