"Silly, there's really nothing to worry about." Mara nuzzled at his ear, her hands roving. "We have each other, and that's all we need. And next period, I'll talk to Daddy. I'll bet he can help."
He smiled and surrendered to her caresses. But the hurt within did not cease.
Sometime later, he came wide awake. A siren was sounding outside from the roof of the palace, its strident rise and fall cutting through the air above Sarghad.
Mara was sitting up, the covers clutched in front of her. "What is it Gray... an attack?"
Grayson stepped to the window and looked out, but could see only surging crowds of people in the streets. He scanned the horizon for ‘Mechs, saw nothing.
"I don't know, Mara. Something's stirring the people up, that's certain."
Mara used a remote handset to click on the room's wall visor. Grayson turned and stared at the screen. The entertainment channels had been overriden by a government newscast. A man in a Guards Colonel uniform was directing the people of Sarghad to stay indoors, to keep their visors on and listen for continued updates. Then the scene cut to a long-range view of the spaceport, and to massive grey shapes settling out of the sky. Ships were landing, the speaker's voice explained, and Grayson was shocked to see that their insignia was the sinuous black and red dragon crest of House Kurita. Ships of the Draconis Combine, under the command of Duke Ricol, were landing on Trellwan to rid the world once and for all of the Oberon bandit menace. The bandits, the voice asserted, had already surrendered to Ricol. Now, at last, there would be peace.
23
The city of Sarghad had gone mad. Dressed in cold-weather jackets, swarms of people gathered under the harsh overhead lights that kept the long night at bay, their breath making clouds of steam in the chill, Secondnight air. The cheers, the sight of the people waving, leaping, dancing in the streets, were broadcast on the huge visor that curved out from one wall of the palace Reception Hall. A convoy was making its way toward the Palace past the cheering throngs on streets lit bright as day. From a staff on the lead hovercraft in the convoy fluttered the black and red dragon flag of the Draconis Combine.
Grayson had dressed and hurried across to the Palace as soon as he heard the news. The Guards Colonel reporting the scene had sounded bouyant, almost jubilant, at the news that Kurita forces had arrived to save Trellwan from Hendrik of Oberon. Could these people possibly be so overjoyed at what was clearly an out-and-out invasion? The Combine was not known to be particularly charitable toward independent planets. Couldn't the Trells see the danger?
The Reception Hall was crowded with people, the wealthy and powerful of Sarghad and, no doubt, other cities of Trellwan as well. When the news of the ships' arrival had broken, the people had come straight to the Palace, little doubting that their future, and the future of the planet, would be settled here within the hour.
Grayson still wore his green and gold dress Guards uniform, the only one he had. He had to try to reach King Jeverid, though he knew it would not be easy. Jeverid was shielded from his people by a thick bureaucratic layer of secretaries and court functionaries that had accumulated around the royal office over the past several centuries.
At that moment, curtains on the hall's platform parted, but instead of the King, General Adel and various of his staff officers appeared there. With them was Lieutenant... no, Captain Nolem, flanked by richly adorned Royal Guards in full dress. Grayson scanned the crowd gathered around the platform. The Militia was conspicuous by its absence, and Varney was nowhere to be seen. Had he fallen so far from favor?
Grayson began working his way through the throng toward the stage, where the General and his officers stood before the empty throne. Where is Jeverid? he wondered, when suddenly his way was blocked by a pair of helmeted and armored Guards soldiers, carrying TK rifles. "Sorry, sir," one said. "You can't go through there."
Perhaps he could use the force of his uniform. "Stand aside, soldier! I am Lieutenant Carlyle of the First Lancers. I must see His Majesty!"
Doubt crossed the soldier's face. "I'm sorry, sir, but unless you have a pass signed by General Adel..."
"If I had a pass, I would have shown it to you! I tell you, I must see His Majesty! It's vitally important!"
The soldier hesitated, and Grayson thought for an instant that his bluff had worked. Then he could see the soldier resolving to do only as he was told. "I'm sorry, sir, but you'll have to go through proper channels."
"What's the problem here?" It was Adel, with Nolem close behind. The General swept cold eyes over Grayson. "What do YOU want?"
"General, sir! I must see His Majesty!"
"About what?"
"These Kuritists, sir, being welcomed like heroes. They're the enemy!"
Adel's brows beetled, a frown pulling at his face. He rubbed thoughtfully at his mustache with one finger.
"Enemy? I know of no declaration of war between Trellwan and the Draconis Combine. You overstep yourself, sir."
Somehow Grayson managed to control his thoughts, to steady himself and his speech. "General, I have reason to believe that this is all some kind of a plot."
Adel and Nolem both laughed. "So, it's plots now, is it?" Nolem seemed vastly amused. "We might have expected that from a Commonwealther, I suppose. Eh, General?"
"Ha! Indeed. Lord Ricol was particularly interested in what young Carlyle here might have to say."
Grayson's eyes opened wide. "This Duke Ricol knew about me? How?"
"Oh, he has ways, I'm sure. He said you might object to a Combine presence on Trellwan."
Object? Grayson could see in his mind the three-D map projection that his tutor, Ari, used to display the Cis-Peripheral sectors of Commonwealth space. The red dwarf Trell lay nearest — in astronomical terms — to stars ruled by Hendrik of Oberon and to other stars claimed by Kurita's Draconis Combine. The war, sometimes overt, sometimes covert, between the Combine and the Commonwealth, had dragged on for year after standard year. The whole purpose of Representative Vogel's Pact had been to free garrisons like Carlyle's Commandos for service against Kurita closer in toward the Inner Sphere. Hendrik was to have taken over the defense of Trellwan, and with it, defense of this entire sector against the predations of the Combine. The irony was that now Kurita was establishing himself here instead.
Trellwan would be nearly ideal as an advance base of operations against the Commonwealth. A fleet could base and refuel there, could strike deep at worlds of the Commonwealth that had never suffered Combine raids. They could strike even at the capital, at Tharkad itself.
"General," Grayson tried desperately to sound calm. These men were laughing at him! "Minister, Trellwan is so important to the security of the Commonwealth..."
"We're not interested in what is important or not important to the Commonwealth. You seem to forget, Carlyle, that this is our world, not yours."
"General, the Lancers... the Tenth Regiment is under your command now. You must realize that the Kuritists won't let you keep those Mechs.
Adel nodded agreeably. "Of course. I spoke at length with the Duke's representative just a short while ago, by visor. Trellwan will no longer need an independent 'Mech Lance. Company E of the Tenth guards Regiment is to be incorporated entirely into the personal forces of Duke Ricol. That is a singular honor, you must realize, youngster. I assumed the force would be disbanded, but when he heard of your success against the Oberon pirates, he decided the unit could be transferred to his own command."
"General, you can't let them do this!"
Adel seemed to lose patience. He gestured to Nolem, who snapped at one of the soldiers, "You. Take this man and put him under arrest"
"Sir! You're making a mistake!"
Nolem sneered. "We made a mistake the day we depended on the Commonwealthers for help! Take him away!"
As the soldiers were taking Grayson by the arms, a tall, heavy, black-bearded figure appeared at the top of the stairs. It must be Duke Ricol, Grayson thought. The man wore a uniform that was of a single piece from b
oots to gloves, entirely red except for the black trim and silver fastenings at waist, throat, and breast He bore on his left upper arm and shoulder the highly stylized shield cloak now stylish among worlds of the Inner Sphere. Red-trimmed with black and silver, the cloak curved from his shoulder around behind his head like the collar of a stiff-necked cape, and fastened to his right shoulder with silver chains that glittered in the light as he moved.
Behind him were his personal guards, also in red, but in uniforms and armor that looked far more military than their Duke's Finery. The butts of service auto pistols rode above holsters worn low on their hips, and their faces were masked by featureless, black plastic visors beneath their helmets.
Ricol spoke, hands on hips, his voice booming across the crowd, which stood in hushed expectation. "Do I have the honor of addressing the government of Trellwan?"
Adel saluted the Red Duke. "His Majesty has been detained, my Lord. He will be with us presently."
"I don't like being kept waiting, Adel," Ricol said. He descended the stairs with an imperial air, his staff and personal guards close behind him.
Grayson stiffened. It had to be a plot. Where was Varney? Where was Jeverid? Whatever was afoot, Grayson was sure Adel and his Royal Guards were in on it, too. Not only that, the Lancers were to be turned over to this Kuritist duke.
With Ricol's entrance, the soldiers had loosened then-hold on Grayson's arms, absorbed in the spectacle of the Red Duke. Moving softly, Grayson stepped into the crowd, headed toward a side exit in the hall.
"Stop him, idiots!" Nolem's harsh whisper was more hiss than words, but seemed louder than a shout against the Hall's shocked silence. Hearing the step of soldiers coming after him, Grayson broke into a run, smashing past finery-clad lords and ladies of the court, and bowling over one gray-haired and stoop-shouldered man in a black cloak who stepped into his path. There were other guards at the door to the corridor, but they couldn't fire their weapons with the crowd at Grayson's back. He lunged at one of them, smashing the helmet down across the man's eyes, pivoting, and giving him a stiff-armed blow in the chest that sent him sprawling back into the surprised arms of two of his comrades.
Then he was moving into the passageway, his feet pounding against the heavy carpeting, then echoing from marble steps as the corridor ended and he was faced with nowhere to go but up. The crowd was spilling into the hallway behind him, and he heard the clatter of running boots, the predictable shouts for him to halt
At the top of the stairs, the passageway branched. He looked both ways, frantic and unsure. Then, he got his bearings, remembering that one corridor led to the Ministerial Offices, including those of Stannic.
Grayson realized suddenly that he had not seen Stannic at the Reception Hall either. Had Jeverid and Stannic both been deposed? Or might Mara's father simply be unaware of what was occurring? If he could find the Chief Minister, if he could find Mara, who frequently worked with her father in these offices, perhaps he could warn them. Unless it was already too late....
He rounded a corner and nearly collided with a young Trell. It was Claydon! Grayson opened his mouth to speak, then noticed that Claydon wore the green jacket of a Guard, with a black armband showing him to be a senior Tech. So, he'd made a deal with General Adel. Or was it with Duke Ricol? Was he the new replacement Tech for Lori and Grayson? Though his head spun with questions, Grayson merely nodded curtly and hurried past. Then he heard the sound of Claydon's boots descending the stairs Grayson had just come up. Would Claydon betray him? Had he betrayed him already?
He ducked into the outer reception room of the Chief Minister's office suite, and stood with his back to the door, panting. Moments later, he heard the clatter of boots again, this time racing past the door and down the corridor. Grayson let out his breath in a long, slow sigh. He'd not been aware of holding it "Grayson!"
He opened his eyes, and saw Mara.
"Mara! What are YOU doing here?"
"I might ask you the same question. I work here."
"Look, Mara, something terrible is going on. I think General Adel has engineered a revolution. He's downstairs talking to that Kuritist duke right now, and there's no sign of General Varney or the Militia or..."
He stopped, his eyes widening. Mara had reached behind the ornate desk that dominated the room, and brought out a sleek auto-feed needler. The pistol's narrow, slit barrel was trained on his heart.
"Mara! What...?"
"You really are a fool, you know. You Commonwealthers think the galaxy revolves around you, that you can use people, use whole worlds with no more thought for their welfare than..."
"What are you talking about, Mara? I... I..."
"Quiet!" she snapped. Keeping the gun centered on his chest, Mara reached behind the desk again, and Grayson immediately heard the sound of an alarm sounding somewhere in the far distance.
Stannic appeared behind his daughter. Seeing him dressed in a resplendent gold and green uniform of the Royal Guards, Grayson recalled having heard that Stannic was a retired Guards officer. He wore a colorful cluster of medals on his chest, including the starburst of the Crimson Star. "What's all this then, Mara?"
"An intruder, Father."
"Ah, it's young Carlyle. I'm sorry, son, but this is for the better. We appreciated your help, but you can see that it's really not necessary now. Duke Ricol will be taking care of our defense."
"Sir, you don't know what that will mean. We have fought the Draconis Combine for years and..."
"Exactly. Your people HAVE fought them for years, and you can hardly have a, shall we say, unprejudiced attitude toward them."
The door burst open behind Grayson, and armed men crowded in.
"Here's your prisoner," Mara said. Hands closed over Grayson's arms, holding him upright when he thought he was going to keel over. He was dizzy... weak.
From far away, he heard General Adel say, "I'm sorry for the disturbance, Your Majesty."
Stannic chuckled. "No problem, General. Just see you hang onto him now, eh?"
* * * *
The only reason Lori had been awake was that she'd not been alone. Garik Enzelman was with her, the two of them sharing memories of Sigurd with gentle touches and lingering kisses.
She'd gone to Garik after the assassination attempt. She'd known Grayson was headed for Mara's apartment that day, and her own hurt and jealousy had driven her to the one person with whom she could talk, remember, and feel less alone. They reminisced about life on Sigurd, the moon of a sullenly glowing gas giant. Circling its brilliant but distant F4 star, Sigurd was even more frigid and forbidding than Trellwan. They talked of their experiences in the service on Sigurd and in the time since, and they talked of their future on Trellwan.
They'd come to no certain decision, beyond the fact that the future looked dark for them. Enzelman wanted to join the Draconian forces. Then, at least, he would not have to deal with the anti-Oberon prejudice of the Trell indigs. Lori was not so sure, but she listened to him all the same.
Garik was two standard years younger than Lori. His abrupt, almost bumbling manner and studied lack of thoughtfulness made her certain she would never have been friends with the guy were it not for the fact that he was the only man within several hundred light years with whom she could confide.
Well... almost. She could share with him what she was not busily walling up somewhere inside her hurt and confusion. Why did she keep thinking of Grayson?
"The Dracos won't be any better."
"I don't really see what choice we have," Garik said. "If we stay on Trellwan, we have nothing to face but prison... or death. I understand they enjoy setting people loose in the desert here, unprotected."
"The Draconians might not want us." She was remembering the polish and snap of those legions debarking from their DropShips. Those were professional soldiers, in every sense of the word.
"Then again, they might. Technical people are always in demand. And the fighting's over now. That means they'll be recruiting and training
for their next project, whatever that is."
"Does it?" She wondered where Grayson was. This period, he'd be with Mara, no doubt, but where would he be after this shakeup in command? General Adel wasn't about to leave him in charge of so potent a force as a 'Mech Lance. There had already been outbreaks of violence when Guards units had ordered the Militia to disband, and rumors were spreading that General Varney had been placed under arrest.
They both heard the whine of hovercraft outside the building at the same moment. When Lori peered out past the curtain, she'd seen the fifteen or 20 Guards dismounting from military HVTs and converging on her door. Obviously, this was no social call. With the Guards in power, with Adel calling the shots, she and Garik had become targets.
They dressed quickly, and were pulling on boots and jackets when the pounding on the door began. "This way," Lori said. Slipping through the glass door on the other side of the apartment, they passed into the enclosed patio behind the building, and made their way rapidly across the street toward the Lancers' HQ.
There was sporadic and nagging gunfire in front of the old Militia armory, but no sign of a major assault. Troops, both Militia and Guards, were moving through streets already clogged with panicking civilians, and there seemed to be no organization to either group's movements at all.
Captain Tor met Lori and Garik at the door to the armory, an MP-20 in his hand. Behind him was Sergeant Ramage, coatless and carrying a TK. Ramage was shivering with cold.
"Lori!" Tor exclaimed "You're safe!"
Even Ramage looked relieved. While not outwardly opposing Lori's position in the unit, Sergeant Ramage had remained carefully neutral toward her. He grinned at Lori now, and said, "We were about to come for you. We'd heard the Guards had been sent to get you."
"But how?"
Ramage jerked his head toward the armory HQ. "We've got the Locust command net radio tuned into their operations frequency. It's a general rising by the Guards. Minister Stannic has proclaimed himself King, and no one knows what's happened to Jeverid. The trouble began when Guard units began disarming the Militia."
Decision at Thunder Rift Page 20
