“I may fall, but not tonight.” Nelson brought the Phoenix Hawk down into a crouch and inched back, letting the ledge shield as much of him as possible. The BattleMaster stepped back, lengthening the range, but improving his angle. Nelson would survive Nick’s poor marksmanship for one or two bursts, then Nick would get the idea of slashing away at the rock. Once that was undercut, Nelson and the ‘Hawk would come down in a ’Mech avalanche.
Fortunately, Nick never got the chance to figure out what he had to do to bring Nelson down. Even in his cockpit, with the wind howling and snow swirling, the low rumble came to Nelson. It grew, becoming equal parts tactile and auditory. It took a couple seconds more for Nick to get its full effect, sheltered as he was down in the draw.
And by the time he did, time had run out for him.
Having grown up in an arid region that never had much of a winter, Nelson Geist had had a lot of things to learn about winter and snow. Tharkad had plenty of both, and instructors at the Nagelring went to great pains to guarantee their cadets weren’t going to fall prey to stupid things. He learned about frostbite and winter survival. He learned how to ski, both downhill and cross-country, and how to snowshoe. He even learned how to climb mountains in the winter and learned about the special dangers of generous snowfalls.
His large laser had cut through the clouds and burned into the mass of snow much higher up in the mountains. New snow over old created a fragile structure supporting a lot of weight. When the laser melted into that layer of old snow, the structure collapsed and with it came a lot of snow.
The avalanche picked up speed as it descended, sweeping rocks and trees along with it. The BattleMaster might well have been one of the largest land war machines ever created by the hand of man, but compared to the titanic forces of nature, it was something of a toy. Snow poured down into the draw in a frozen white flood. It slammed into the ’Mech’s back, pitching it forward and face down. A rock the size of a small hovercar bounced up and off, then snow just buried Nick.
The snow kept coming, filling the draw. Nelson hit the jets as the snow lapped up at the ledge, but was able to land back down there easily. The snow came up to the ‘Hawk’s knees and was packed so solidly he had to kick his way clear to move forward. He sank down to mid-calf with each subsequent step, so he didn’t venture very far.
He switched his scanners over to MagRes and got a clean picture of the BattleMaster laying face down, as if it were floating. Floating at the bottom of a pool. He dropped the crosshairs on the thing’s head and keyed his radio.
“You’re only going to be getting out of there with help. Surrender and I burn you a tunnel to climb out. If you don’t, I burn that tunnel through the cockpit. Answering me in rhyme is the same as not surrendering.”
Nick’s voice came back faint and weak. “If I surrender, you’ll be taking my ’Mech away, won’t you?”
“You’ve been raiding and ruining Christmases for years, and you want me to be sympathetic over your being dispossessed?”
“That would be a no?”
“How right you are, yes sirree!” Nelson smiled. “Your ’Mech’s going to belong to me.”
“My poetry wasn’t that bad.”
“Yes, it was.” Nelson frowned. “You coming out, or do I radio the base and tell them to requisition a body-bag and a new BattleMaster cockpit?”
“Tell them to bring blankets. And brandy.” Resignation flooded through Nick’s voice. “I’m going to want a lot of brandy.”
“You’ve got it. You made the wise choice.” Nelson fought and kept the laughter out of his voice. By the rules of combat, that BattleMaster would be his, which meant he’d get a good assignment in the LCAF. With a ’Mech like that, anything is possible.
“Oh, and Nick?”
“Yeah?”
“Merry Christmas.”
ZEROING IN
A prequel to The Legend of the Jade Phoenix
by Robert Thurston
When Joanna had been very young, her caretakers had worried about her sensitive side. While they believed that a warrior-to-be should have an understanding of what it meant to be a human being, especially one fortunate to belong to the Jade Falcon Clan, they also felt that tender and compassionate emotions interfered with combat skills. Emotions were fine for those who flushed out of training and entered a lesser caste, where some emotional engagement was extremely useful. The scientists, for instance, could not improve Clansmen without some insights into their nature. Artisans needed some feeling to create decorative objects. Technicians had to have a sense of the value of the BattleMech to suit the needs of the warrior and thus had to understand the quirks as well as the traits of the warrior.
The reason Joanna could remember the issue of her sensitivity so well was that she did not have any of it left and could not recall what it had been like. She did not know how she had worked it out, or which life experiences had hardened her, or who was the first to draw her monumental wrath, but now she liked to think of herself as the nastiest warrior in the Jade Falcon Clan. And she was satisfied that many others thought of her that way, too.
Ironhold, Clan Space
What an exhaust fume of a place, Joanna thought as she entered her new quarters at the Ironhold training camp. A dark cloud seemed to hover in the ceiling shadows of the badly lit room of this bleak barracks. Spartan was all right for barracks but this one outdid others in its sheer drabness. Her cot, stripped down, with a bedroll at its foot, showed a definite sag in its middle, along with bent and nearly broken
