The jump jet mounted on the ’Mech’s left side flared and died. The other two jump jets sputtered on for a moment and then died as well, leaving the Jenner airborne and slowly rotating to the left. The Jenner continued spinning as it accelerated, then it slammed into the ground on its left shoulder. One leg telescoped into the torso, but the left one snapped forward and sheared clean off.
As the left leg bounced away from the wreckage, Nelson blinked and stared at it. I got it! I got it! Years of drilling might have given him the skills, but all the simulations in the world couldn’t match actual combat. The dryness in his mouth, the twisting in his stomach, the desire to see someone emerge from the wrecked ’Mech—none of that came from war games.
It’s not stories anymore, Nelson. This is real and real serious.
Swallowing hard, he keyed his radio. “Bronson, I got the Jenner.”
“Sure, kid.”
A keening whine rattled through the speakers in Nelson’s neurohelmet. “This is no game, my honor you defame. Phoenix Hawk, you are mine to kill, which I now vow to do, I will.”
“Cadet, if this is your idea of a joke…”
“Anything but, Bronson. Get me some help, will you?” Nelson stilled the shivers running through him. “I don’t like the odds here.”
“They’ll be worse if you get the Leutnant’s ’Mech hammered.” Tension flooded through Bronson’s voice. “Putting out the call. ETA twenty minutes. Think you can last that long?”
Down below him, in the valley, the two Locusts moved off and headed in toward Harrison and the bank. While he took some heart in the idea that he would only have to face one BattleMech, the fact that it was a BattleMaster killed any hope. The BattleMaster outmassed him by forty tons, had three times as many medium lasers as he did and had short-range missiles in addition to its particle projector cannon. He didn’t even want to think about the differences in armor between the two ’Mechs.
“Maybe I can, but I’m betting your new spanners will get a great workout fixing this ’Mech if I do.” He took a deep breath, then nodded. “The Locusts are headed for the bank. Stop them, will you?”
“Screw the bank, kid, or do you still have your Christmas Club account there?”
“Something like that. Do it, Bronson.”
“Roger that.”
Nelson tried to figure out if he had any advantages as he started his Phoenix Hawk back into the woods. He knew the cover would help conceal him, making him harder to hit. The BattleMaster’s line of attack was uphill, which would also help. He had a sneaking suspicion, given their first exchange, that he was a better shot, but the BattleMaster’s array of weapons gave Nick more chances to get lucky.
He searched his mind for all the technical data he’d memorized, searching for anything that might help him. The PPC has a minimum effective range. Maybe I can use that… Nelson peered out through the picket-line of trees between him and the meadow. If we go toe to toe, I’m done.
The BattleMaster’s long confident strides through the meadow did nothing to set visions of sugar-plums dancing in Nelson’s head. Snow shot up and out from in front of its massive feet, dusted the ’Mech and settled in clouds on the its backtrail. As nasty as he knew the machine to be, the light frosting of snow and the way it moved made it seem grand and almost benign. He couldn’t help but admire the machine.
Then the BattleMaster made a sharp parade turn left and headed straight in at him.
“Spoiling for a fight, on what should be a silent night!” Nelson shuddered as he realized he was talking like his foe, then started tracking him with the crosshairs. “If you’re going to give me the shots, I’m going to take them.” At range he triggered the large laser and prayed for a Christmas present.
The ruby beam nailed the center of the ’Mech’s chest. Sheets of armor, half-fluid and glowing warmly, spun away into the dim twilight. Nelson looked in vain for the same sort of critical opening his large laser had made in the Jenner, but he saw none. That thing’s got a lot more armor for me to burn through!
The BattleMaster’s PPC came up and swung in his direction. The azure fork of pseudo-lightning it spat out threaded its way through the trees and savaged the Phoenix Hawk’s left arm. Armor shards clattered off the cockpit canopy and ricocheted into the darkness. Nelson’s damage monitor reported the armor had been stripped clean off that limb. One more shot there and the whole arm is gone, along with a medium laser and a machine gun. That would pretty much ruin my day.
The BattleMaster charged forward, coming in at the Phoenix Hawk at full speed. The fourteen-meter tall war machine battered trees aside, snapping their trunks as if they were tinder. Showers of snow poured down, reducing the BattleMaster to a grey shadow in a blizzard, but a shadow that always came closer, relentless and implacable.
It seemed for a moment to Nelson that Anti-Nick wanted to physically grapple with him and tear his ’Mech apart. Aside from the fact that Leutnant Lukens would have frowned on having his ’Mech broken that way, Nelson had no intention of letting that happen. In that sort of fight, his chances of survival would have been the same in or out of the ’Mech, so discretion definitely seemed the better part of valor.
He’s a bad shot and… Nelson slowly grinned. He’s a worse tactician.
As the assault ’Mech closed, Nelson stomped down on the jump jets. He launched his ’Mech skyward, but pulled his feet off the pedals almost instantly, abbreviating his flight. He grounded the Phoenix Hawk behind the BattleMaster and turned, giving him a clean shot at the BattleMaster’s pristine
