"Hope you like Conner's." Jaryl nodded and adjusted the volume. Rose couldn't understand the announcer's words, which were in Chinese but might as well have been Greek as far as he was concerned. Jaryl, on the other hand, was obviously picking up on all of it.
"Hey, I'm sorry if I made you mad," he said.
"No, not mad. It's just that I don't lose often and I don't like it when Ldo. Nothing personal. Really."
"You're good."
"Thanks. It was a trick I learned at the academy. It's not too hard to do with a little practice. Just concentrate on opening your throat and let the liquor slide right down."
"Neat trick."
"But still just a trick."
"As you say."
"Before Dillon brought the drinks, you said something ..."
"Yes?"
"... about having to kill me?"
"Yes?"
"Could you, maybe, expand on that point?"
"I guess. I mean, you did buy me this nice, WARM beer." Rose decided not to meet the challenge in her voice or her eyes. She wasn't kidding when she said she didn't like to lose. He let the silence linger as he listened to an announcer he didn't understand go through the warm-ups for a fight he didn't care anything about.
"Sorry, again." Jaryl lapsed into silence and partially turned to the main trivid. A Stalker'Mech was lumbering through the doorway of the 'Mech shed. Rose tried to guess the arena, but couldn't place either the pilot or the location. He'd have recognized one of the five major arenas instantly, for each of those was as distinctive as the sector of Solaris City that spawned it. This must be a match in one of the lesser-class arenas of either the capital or one of the other nearby towns.
The announcer became even more excited as the trivid image switched to a Banshee,presumably the Stalker'sopponent, but Rose still found it difficult to get enthusiastic about the prospect of men dying for the amusement of others.
"Do you have any idea how nervous you make people?" Jaryl asked suddenly.
"Pardon?"
"Do you have any idea how nervous you make people? People like Warwick or my boss Carstairs?" Rose eased back into his seat and thought about the question.
"I guess not. I'm just one guy. What's to get nervous about?"
"Plenty. You're an unknown. That drives the odds-makers crazy, but, god, what it does to the stablemasters."
"I hadn't thought of it that way."
"You'd better start. Do you know that within half an hour of your first call for a 'Mech, half the stables in Solaris City knew about you? By the end of the first day, most of the stablemen in the city had placed calls checking on your service record, which came up empty."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Any idea why nobody would sell you a 'Mech?"
"Not at all. Most of the people I contacted said they didn't have what I wanted, but that got a little hard to believe after a while." Rose thought back to all the calls he'd made during the inbound flight aboard the Drop-Ship. Out of all the 'Mech dealers on Solaris, not one would sell him even an abused heavy or assault class machine?
"Finals week, that's why. This is the last week of the season. A new guy like you isn't much of a threat for the grand championship—that's handled by a process of elimination. On the other hand, there are plenty of other competitions you could enter if you had a 'Mech. Events like the match between Carstairs and Warwick. Events where the team is entered, not the individual competitors.
"Were there any 'Mechs on the ship that brought you here?"
"I don't know," Rose said. "Most of the cargo bays were off-limits."
"Probably not. If there had been, they'd have been impounded until the end of the week—no new blood until the end of the season. What little manages to get into the city is roadblocked."
"If new blood is so dangerous to the odds, and money, of the gamblers, why am I still walking around? Why was Warwick the only one to approach me?"
"You don't have a service record. Most stables probably passed you off as a 'Mechbunny or ghost." Rose simply stared at her. "That's wannabe or spy to you out-of-towners. Either way, only a desperate manager would touch you, a guy like Warwick."
"And if I'd arrived a month ago?"
"No problem."
Rose slammed the table and rocked both bottles. Only a quick grab by Jaryl saved her beer from spilling all over her and the table.
"Sorry," he said. "What about next week, when most of the battles have been decided? Can I get a 'Mech then?"
"Probably, but still not for sure. Most of the stables have you pegged either as idle rich or trouble. Either way, a tech is only going to sell to you if he's willing to risk their anger or if the profits are so good he can't pass up the opportunity. Until the major stables figure out who you are and what kind of trouble you're going to be, you're dispossessed."
"I'm nobody to these guys. Why do they want to make my life so damn rough?"
"Because they can. You can get a 'Mech. You're just going to have to wait a while to do it. In two or three months most of the stable owners will have forgotten about you."
Rose could only growl and slam the table again. "I leave in ten days."
"Then you leave without a 'Mech." Rose didn't want to believe her, but thinking over the past few days, he realized Jaryl was right. Few, if any, of the locals would talk with him, and those who did seemed on edge. The Pelican was the only place in town where he felt even halfway welcome, and that was mostly because of Dillon. There had to be a way to get a 'Mech, but he couldn't guess what it might be. He concentrated on spinning his empty bottle until he realized he was ignoring his companion. Looking over at Jaryl, he saw that she was engrossed in the trivid on the main floor. Rose followed her eyes and watched as the Stalkerand the Bansheecaught sight of one another for the first time in the fight.
The orange and gray Stalkerlet fly with every missile it had. The black Banshee,seemingly surprised by the encounter, triggered both its PPCs, but the blast of the missiles and the suddenness of the Stalker'sattack made both shots go wide. As the smoke cleared, Rose could see how good a shot was the Stalkerpilot. He'd targeted all four flights of missiles at the Banshee'storso, blasting away armor and threatening the 'Mech's delicate interior.
The Bansheeattempted to back around a corner, but the Stalkerpressed its advantage. Rose wondered where they were fighting. The announcer was practically screaming in his ear, but the volume didn't help his comprehension. Jaryl was studying the fight intently, yet without the air of bloodlust that had gripped the rest of The Pelican's patrons. The spectacle held everyone in the room in its thrall.
As Rose turned back to the trivid the Stalkercontinued to close with the Banshee,which had fired its shoulder-mounted missile rack, but made only scattered hits along the Stalker'sleft leg. In return the Stalkerdelivered a single large laser into the Banshee'salready-damaged right torso, melting rivulets of plasteel and setting off a series of minor explosions inside.
Rose knew the battle was already decided, but the Bansheefought on and the Stalkercontinued to press its advantage. Viewers unconsciously edged closer to the trivid, sensing a kill as the Bansheeattempted to fight on.
As it staggered back, the Bansheefired its pair of front-mounted medium lasers and one of its PPCs. Rose saw the pilot also attempt to line up the Gauss rifle, but the Stalkerpilot was keeping well to the right of its humanoid enemy, preferring to take the laser and PPC fire as the Banshee'sheat rose. Again the Bansheepilot had aimed low, succeeding in hitting, but not damaging, the powerful legs of the Stalker,which were driving toward the nearly stationary Banshee.Rose turned away with a slow, sad shake of his head, knowing what would come next.