FoW10

==Chapter 10 - Fortunes of War==
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The River Run, Galatea
The Lyran Commonwealth
October 30th, 3024
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The last sigh of the Vindicator’s engine died away beneath Kit as the fusion reactor in the machine’s heart finished its shutdown sequence. She removed the neurohelmet and tried to shrug out the ache in her shoulders. For a moment, except for the muffled noise of repairs and rearming going on in the arena’s staging 'Mech bay outside, it was almost peaceful.
Kit remembered the first time she had sat in the cockpit of a BattleMech, as a girl of six sitting on her grandfather’s lap, and how she had never wanted to get out. Now she found herself once again wishing she could stay ensconced in the armored cocoon indefinitely, albeit for very different reasons.
With a sigh of her own, she stowed the neurohelmet shimmied up out of the command chair around the cover for the medium laser’s power linkages that some Capellan engineer had inexplicably decided to route through the cockpit, and popped the hatch.
On the back wall of the 'Mech bay was a five-meter-wide holoscreen tuned to a channel that showed arena highlights with a play-by-play commentary duo whose names Kit refused to learn. Outside the cockpit, the blaring speakers on either side of the screen were fully audible, doing nothing to lessen Kit’s desire to retreat inside forever. Or if not in the cockpit, a deep dark hole, like a Star League cache bunker where she could remain undiscovered for centuries.
“And now, It isn’t often we would devote much time to medium-weight clashes in the rookie circuits, but the circumstances here are unique to say the least and we know that some of our viewers are waiting for this. Today in the River Run arena, Kit Söderlund scored another victory, running her streak to five in a row to start her arena career, but once again in… controversial fashion.”
Kit laughed bitterly to herself as she clambered down the Vindicator’s chest. Controversial? Is that the word they’re using for it? I could think of some more colorful ones.
Her boots hit the bay floor and she stopped to look back up at the forty-five on BattleMech. The Task Force Talon purple and yellow accents had been painted over, leaving the whole 'Mech in an uneven gunmetal gray finish, except for the number 13 in large white blocky numbers on the left upper leg, Covelli’s idea which Kit had reluctantly agreed to in lieu of a flashier overall livery. The 'Mech’s torso was pitted from LRM impacts, and its limbs were criss-crossed with scars where lasers had cut into the armor but failed to penetrate.
“Left without his Centurion’s main weapon after what he and his team are telling us is an ammunition feed issue, Connor Nagy tried valiantly to close the distance on his opponent, probably hoping to his 'Mech’s superior weight to good use against Söderlund’s Vindicator in a melee struggle. But his day ended in dramatic fashion when his 'Mech’s leg was finally severed by a blast from the Vindicator’s PPC!”
Kit flushed and stole a glance around the 'Mech bay. She told herself that the MechWarriors, techs, and arena support personnel swarming around the 'Mech bay were much too preoccupied to pay any attention to her, but just as she had in the bar the night she met Covelli and her arena career had begun, she felt surrounded.
“So it seems what we have here, Jimmy." the play-by-play man was saying to his partner, “is yet another match where Söderlund’s victory was all but assured by a sudden equipment failure for one of her opponents. And what started as a joke now may have some fight fans asking half in earnest, is she using some sort of magic spell? Is she perhaps some sort of human EMP?”
“Maury, all I can say to all that is: bullshit. Whether it’s freak circumstances or… or whatever it is that’s going on here, one thing I can tell you for sure is that in the arena, real talent always makes itself known eventually.”
“Well." the play-by-play man whose name Kit now realized with disappointment she knew was Maury said, “Whatever take on it you have, you can’t argue with the results: five straight wins for Söderlund - who, after attracting some attention in Galatea’s mercenary hiring halls a few weeks ago, is now making a name for herself among arena fans, and we will continue to give them what they want by following her career closely. Now in today’s action in the duos division…”
Kit spun on her heel and stalked away. The Star League bunker was sounding very good indeed.
“Miss Söderlund, let me be the first one to offer you congratulations!”
Kit swore under her breath. If nobody was looking her way before, someone probably was now. Covelli sounded like he was beginning a political address to a crowd of thousands. She resisted the urge to look around and fixed her scowl on her “manager and promoter.”
“The first one and probably the only one.” Kit looked the man up and down, hands on her hips. His suit today had a distinct sheeny under the 'Mech bay floodlights, a material something like sharkskin but in a shade Kit couldn’t imagine associated with marine life. “Maybe I should be congratulating you." she said. “You probably had more control over how things turned out today than I did.”
Covelli gave her his most disarming smile. “Why Miss Söderlund, you give me too much credit. I’ve merely learned from experience what will capture the imagination of this world’s arena aficionados, and perhaps I have some small natural gift for recognizing talent.”
Kit shook her head at him. Seems like you don’t give me credit for much talent at all. “Do fight fans like 'Mech battles where only one of the damn 'Mechs works?” she scoffed. “Seems like it would have been more entertaining if Nagy had been able to use his AC/10.”
Covelli shrugged helplessly. “A common issue with his model of BattleMech, I’m led to believe.”
“Right. Just like the faulty jump jets on Monjula Heath’s Wolverine, and the poor bastard in the Whitworth before that with the frozen ankle actuator. It’s all very plausible.”
Covelli sniffed and picked an invisible speck of dirt off his tie. “The fortunes of war.”
“It’s not war, Titus, it’s a farce!” She shouted, and now it was Covelli’s turn to look around the 'Mech bay to see if they’d drawn attention. “You can’t be sabotaging all of them, not unless you have some Combine ninjas on your payroll. So I have to assume you’re paying them to take a dive.”
Covelli pointed up at the screen on the wall of the hangar. “Do you know how often this world takes notice of an arena gladiator with just five fights behind her?” His voice had taken on the patient, faux-paternal note again.
“Yes, Titus, I know." she said, through clenched teeth. “I’m very unique and special. Everybody was talking about me because I was a jinx, and now everybody is talking about me because I’m a fraud! The fans might not be sure, and the ones who suspect might not care, mostly, but this 'Mech bay is full of people who know it! Hell, they’re probably wondering if you arranged getting my old merc unit killed, somehow.”
Covelli gestured at the screen again. “A few moments ago, the man up there on that screen said you can’t argue with the results. You and I have both profited by our partnership, and I see no reason not to continue it. In fact, it wasn’t just to offer my congratulations that I came to meet you here. I came to talk to you about extending your contract.”
She laughed bitterly. “But you haven’t delivered on your end of the contract, Titus. You said you were going to give me a chance to prove myself, but the only thing I’ve proven is that I was a fool for buying your shit. No, Titus." she said, shaking her head slowly. “I won’t be continuing our partnership. If I get anywhere as an arena gladiator, I want it to be from real fights. As a real MechWarrior.”
When Covelli spoke again, all his practiced joviality was gone. His clipped, business-like tones reminded Kit unpleasantly of Arabelle Leitner, the LCAF mercenary liaison. “That’s disappointing, Miss Söderlund. I won’t flatter myself that I can change your mind. Nevertheless, there is one fight remaining on your original contract. I hope I don’t need to remind you that-...”
Kit cut him off. “If I don’t do six fights, all of my portion of the earnings is forfeit. I read the contract, Mr. Covelli. I’ve gotten good at reading contracts lately.”
“Hm. Yes. Well.” Covelli plucked his silk handkerchief from his pocket and began to wipe his hands as though he thought they had picked up some of the 'Mech bay’s grime. “I had several fine MechWarriors I was trying to arrange as your next opponent, but now that you’ve made your preferences known, I think I may change my plans.” He fixed her with his intense stare. “There is another young up-and-comer I’ve been in contact with who is extremely excited about the prospect of meeting you in the arena. I believe you may recognize his name: one Terry Laurent?”
Kit blinked in confusion. “Terry Laurent? Isn’t he with Pressler’s Privateers? They shouldn’t be back from their contract for months still.”
“Seems their contract fell through." Covelli said. “And while they try to secure another, Captain Pressler has been letting some of his MechWarriors moonlight with an occasional arena fight, as long as a share of the purse goes to the unit.” He chuckled, but there was no mirth in the sound. “Of course, I doubt the good Captain knows that Laurent is so eager for a fight with you, he’s offered his own 'Mech as stakes.”
Kit’s jaw dropped. “Is he insane? Laurent would risk ending up Dispossessed for a low-level arena duel? Why would he do that?”
Covelli returned the handkerchief to his lapel pocket and folded his hands behind his back. “Apparently, Mr. Laurent doesn’t see it as much of a risk. And consider the potential upside from his perspective. Why, it could be the beginning of the story that raises him to stardom.” The arena fixer turned his back on her.
“Think of it, Miss Söderlund." he said as he strolled away. “‘Lucky’ Terry Laurent: the man who beat the jinx.”
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