Chapter 14: Black Rook

Rudy spun away from a slash that might have cost him a leg, cursing viciously. He didn’t so much mind the unexpected challenge – if anything, the prospect of a disappointing final bout had annoyed him.

He minded the feeling the Black Rook was merely toying with him.

His sentiment redoubled when he heard a beep from his communications gear. He risked a glance – private channel, direct beam.

Not now, he thought.

He looked back to the Black Rook. The black mecha had taken advantage of his distraction to withdraw almost to the far end of the arena, sword and board crossed over its chest. Like it was waiting for something.

Rudy willed his communications array on.

No image appeared, just a looming raven logo and a voice.

“You're very good.” The Black Rook sported a strange accent, cultured, crisp and condescending.

Rudy could picture him as a military academy instructor. He scowled.

“I'm also impressed by the synchronization between you and your machine. One of the new Algreil Aerospace Epees? By all accounts their neural interface is the most sophisticated in the Federated Stars. Derived from an Imperial design, isn't it?”

“It has its moments,” Rudy snapped. “Now quit screwing around.”

“I'm afraid,” the Black Rook said, “I can't oblige.”

His machine shot forward.

Talk about synchronization, Rudy thought. He didn’t know how the guy managed to squeeze so much out of a Civil War relic. Its neural interface had to be a full replacement job.

Rudy didn’t bother with the old slow burn trick, knowing it wouldn’t work against this opponent. Instead, he adjusted his position back a dozen meters, then abruptly reversed course.

He hoped to catch the Black Rook off guard.

No such luck.

The Epee crashed into its opponent and rebounded off his shield. Rudy tried to grab the invisible barrier to get a better feel for its size, but his mecha’s hands closed over empty vacuum. He tumbled past, firing his thrusters to right his course before he suffered the indignity of striking the edge of the arena.

The Black Rook hadn’t even tried to press his advantage.

“Stop playing with me,” Rudy said. “This is a tournament, not a martial arts demonstration. You’re good enough to win, so win, damn you.”

“Not at all. You'll find me more adept defensively than offensively,” the Black Rook said. He maneuvered closer, shield held before him. “Until you can prove my tactics are ineffective against you, why should I change?”

Rudy lunged for him.

He dodged.

Dammit!

Rather than pull back for another run, Rudy reversed momentum, gritting his teeth at the gees his cockpit’s inertial dampeners failed to suppress. He managed to snag the Black Rook by the arm.

The Epee’s claws slid out.

They didn’t sink into composite armor.

Rudy’s eyes widened.

Had something gone wrong with the claw mechanism?

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Before he could test his other hand, the Black Rook twisted from his grasp.

“Just who the hell are you?”

“Consider me a… concerned party.”

“A what?”

Rudy didn’t care about the guy’s looks, but he sure wished he could read his expressions. Damn that bastard for not switching to visual feed! His words betrayed no hint of emotion.

Whatever Rudy wished, he wasn’t going to get it.

He glanced at the Epee’s readings. He’d expended more thruster fuel than he liked, but at least the coolant seemed to be working fine. Of course, he hadn’t exactly put it through his paces the way he had in his battle with Avalon.

“You seem so impatient, Crimson Phoenix,” the Black Rook said, “and your mecha must expend a great deal of fuel. Hadn't you better attack?”

“Maybe I don’t want to play your game anymore.”

“The thought had occurred to me.”

The Black Rook shot forward, faster than Rudy imagined possible on such minimal thrusters. He must’ve changed the fuel for something faster-burning, although the Epee's sensors didn't seem to think so. Rudy was starting to wonder if someone on his pit crew hadn't compromised his mecha's main computer.

He just managed to slap aside the Rook's plunging sword. He punched, claws-out, but his blow must’ve missed; he didn’t feel the jarring impact that would have come from contact, whether the blades worked or not.

“As you can see, I'm less accomplished on the attack,” the Black Rook said. “In fact, I may have to forfeit rather than risk another assault.”

Rudy gritted his teeth. Even losing wasn’t as embarrassing as having an obviously superior opponent forfeit. Right now, it would look like some kind of setup.

Otto would bust a gasket over that.

The Black Rook apparently wasn’t ready to throw in the towel, because he kept jawing. “By the way, your stance interests me. It's the style of the Algreil Devil Rays, under Otto Aber Algreil, yes?”

“What’s it to you,” Rudy said.

“I simply wanted to compliment your form. The style has lost none of its potency in the years since I last saw it.”

“Watch more tournaments, then. The Etemenos Cup, for starters.”

“Ah, of course. The Crimson Phoenix is noted for always finishing second at that tournament.”

Technically, Rudy couldn’t see the other man’s smarmy smile, but he could sure as hell imagine it. He’d seen its like often enough.

He shot forward.

A millisecond away from impacting on the Black Rook’s shield, he throttled back and launched a volley of rockets from the Epee’s wrists. They overshot – of course – before their radar guidance systems cut in and curled them into the Rook's exposed back.

For once, Rudy seemed to have caught his opponent by surprise. The Black Rook slammed forward into his fists with an impact that sent shudders down both of them. He pistoned another punch into the black mecha, spun into a kick that sent it reeling, rocketed forward –

And, somehow, managed to miss.

He gasped in pain and shock. It passed after a fraction of a second, but the memory lingered. Rudy fought the urge to grab at his shoulder – where, he'd felt, his arm had been cleanly sliced away.

Rudy's arm remained, of course. The Epee's on the other hand... The mecha's severed limb cartwheeled toward the edge of the arena.

“Bastard!" Rudy lunged at the black mecha, filling the vacuum with missiles, busting chaff capsules to cloud his opponent's sensors. He moved on pure feel now, feel and fury and the memory of pain. His eyes clouded as red as his battered armor.

He snagged the Black Rook and yanked forward.

Metal flashed in the Wellach sun.

A third of the Epee's left leg spiraled away.

More pain.

Rudy didn't give a damn.

He locked his remaining fist on the back of the Black Rook's head and slammed the mechas' impassive faces together. Twice. Three times. Rudy felt as dizzy as if he'd smashed his own skull against a mecha's, but he kept it up.

Rudy bared his teeth, halfway between grin and snarl. He felt blood oozing from his lip. Must've bit it. Bad.

He didn't give a damn about that either.

The Epee's upper legs, one of them trailing sparks and coolant, pinned the smaller mecha. He gave it another smack, head to head. Then he pulled.

This time, it was the Black Rook's sword arm that went flying, wrenched clean off by the Epee's more advanced artificial muscles. If the pilot had a neural interface hooked up, he had to be in screaming agony.

Sucks to be him, Rudy thought.

He gripped the black mecha's throat.

The Black Rook reached up its remaining arm, haltingly.

“Surrender, you cocky bastard," Rudy growled. He wasn't sure if the comlink was even still working. He wasn't sure he cared.

The Black Rook's hand shook as he extended it, palm out, as though to stave off Rudy's finishing blow.

Then Rudy's world went haywire.