Phelan fought to regain control of his 'Mech as the fighter's LRMs blasted craters in the ground all around him. They'd not hit, but hadn't missed by much and the shrapnel drummed across the surface of his 'Mech's cockpit like heavy rain. Ruby beams slashed through the cloud of dust and grit, but only one hit, and that was on the fighter's way out.
The Nova'scomputer painted a grim picture of itself on the secondary monitor. The PPC beam had all but stripped the 'Mech's right side of armor. The laser had melted a huge hole in the rear armor on his left torso. Another hit in either place and Glynis would be into his 'Mech's internal structures. That left his engine and gyro-stabilizers vulnerable, not to mention the whole endo-steel skeleton supporting his BattleMech.
Only two things made him happy. When he shifted over to infrared sensors, the Visigothstood out like a supernova in the night sky. Glynis had used all her weapons in the initial attack, probably hoping to take him out in one fell swoop. Despite the fact that she'd almost succeeded, the heat those weapons had generated would force her to delay another attack run so she could cool down. As the speed of her run had carried her well beyond his weapon ranges, Phelan assumed Glynis would reduce her speed a bit and take her time in coming back.
That would buy him some time, time he badly needed to get off the ridge and down into the canyon. The vulnerability of his right torso made it imperative that he find a defensive position that would force Glynis to be more cautious in her next fly-by. If she dropped 100 knots from her speed, he might get a chance to get off a good shot with his LRM launcher.
Phelan grinned as he saw a blue light pulsing coolly on his command console. His LRMs and his autocannon had missed their target, but the NARC missile had nailed the fighter in its pass. When it hit, it deployed a small homing beacon in the target that would attract the attention of his LRMs. The rhythm slowed as the aerofighter sped away. "You got away with near-murder, this time, Glynis. Now it's gonna be my turn."
Phelan started his 'Mech in a run up over the crest of the ridge, then down and to the east. He knew his 'Mech's image would vanish from her radar screen, as had her fighter from his, but that didn't bother him. Months of training with Carew had taught him what her response to that move would be.
Gingerly, Phelan began picking his way down a long rockfall. The boulders, which ranged in size from that of a hovercar to some that dwarfed his 'Mech, provided him broken cover, for which he felt thankful. Using his 'Mech's nearly vestigial hands to steady himself against some rocks, he descended toward the floor of a narrow canyon.
Suddenly his radar screen reported a high flyover by the Visigothand the NARC indicator light began to quicken its flashing. As he had expected, the trajectory showed that Glynis was coming in on a new vector, just to confuse him, as she searched. The MechWarrior smiled and pointed his right arm skyward. As the fighter cruised over his position, and the NARC light matched his heartbeat's accelerated pace, he let fly with a whole swarm of missiles.
She's good. Got to give her that.It looked as though Glynis had kicked the Visigothonto its right wing and cranked the nose up in an effort to evade the LRMs streaking from the ground. Though her maneuver might have worked under normal circumstances, the NARC beacon pulled the missiles in like a net scooping up fish. The LRMs peppered the fuselage, from nose to engine, but did little more than blast paint and armor from the fighter.
I just may have made her mad,Phelan thought, with a sinking feeling in his belly. The fighter vanished beyond the lip of the canyon, but Phelan knew with certainty that it would be back. He started his 'Mech literally hopping down the slope, wrestling with the controls to keep the behemoth on balance and upright. Glancing at the NARC beacon, he saw by its steady pulse that Glynis was close.
Despite that warning, Glynis' attack came as a surprise. In a daring move, she dropped her speed and popped up over the lip of the canyon in a strafing run. Her ship a silver specter of death, it hung there for a second with fire blossoming from both wings, then slipped away again.
She caught Phelan in a mid-leap with two LRM flights. The first barrage missed, blasting a spray of rock fragments through the air. The second one hit the airborne Novaon its left side. The missiles ripped armor from both the torso and left leg, but failed to breech either.
More important, however, the missiles hitting the left leg helped unbalance the Nova.As the fifty-five-ton 'Mech came back down, the left leg folded under the body. As much as Phelan fought to keep the 'Mech upright, the huge war machine tipped drunkenly to the left, then began to somersault down the half-kilometer rockfall to the canyon floor.
Warning klaxons and the shriek of metal filled the cockpit. Phelan cried out as the command couch's restraining straps dug into him, then slammed him back into his seat. Knowing he could no more control his fall than he could defy gravity, he brought the 'Mech's arms in across its middle and started praying.
The Novalanded with a jolt so hard that Phelan thought Glynis must have managed another run and direct hit with her missiles. More shocks shook the Nova,but it took Phelan a second or two to realize they were from boulders loosed by her miss rather than live munitions she was shooting at him. Bad enough I have to fight an ace pilot, but my choice of battlefield is against me, too!
The computer readout on his secondary monitor told him just how much the battlefield hated him. The tumble down the hill had scoured armor off his 'Mech's front and back, though no area was fully breached. Folding his arms in had saved them from most of the damage, though the right-arm diagram showed a feed-mechanism failure. Dammit, that means the one rack of missiles I have in there is it! I've got enough ammo for a siege, but no way to shoot it.
Worst of all, the Nova'sleft leg had taken severe damage. Almost all its armor had been chipped off. The endo-steel bones in the shin had been twisted and warped so the 'Mech's left foot toed in. As Phelan brought the 'Mech upright, using its hands to brush off chunks of rock, he discovered the leg could support weight, but all pretense of mobility was gone.
In frustration, he pounded his fist against the command console. "Stravagmachine! Freebirth! The only thing left for me to do out here is die." He reached for the ejection switch, but stopped as the Visigothcruised by like a shark waiting for a diver to rise from an ocean wreck.
Part of him wanted to signal Glynis that she had won, but he stopped. He was not about to eject because that was no guarantee she wouldn't make another strafing run to kill him anyway. He didn't think she was that bloodthirsty, but in a Bloodname battle all normal conventions went by the wayside.
Yet it was not fear for his life that moved his hand away from the ejection button. That he should lose was no surprise, for he had started the battle grossly outgunned. But the fight was over something as stupid as a title, and he could live without that. Trying to get out of there, to live out that possibility, was logical and sensible.
Logical and sensible, if you're not of the Clans.
Even as those words formed in his mind, Phelan felt a shock of cold recognition that surprised him. Growing up in the Inner Sphere, he had always felt a bit apart from everyone else. Yes, he had loved his family—and still did—but he had always felt as though he belonged somewhere else. It was as though the world was not quite in focus, making him chafe whenever he had to deal with authority figures and rigid structures.