"Gray!" Even through the impersonality of the com circuits, he heard the naked terror in that scream.
With Vallendel at his feet, Grayson hesitated before swinging his twisted metal club. He knew he could never abandon Lori, and flung the club, which spun end for end away from him. Then he swung to the north, pushing his 'Mech to the limit.
36
Five and a half light minutes from Trellwan, Tor sat down at the bridge controls of the freighter Invidious. The enemy Major had indeed managed to get a message off to Trellwan, but fifteen minutes had passed with no reaction from the warship. Tor began daring to believe that the attack at the spaceport had succeeded.
The boarding party had found only eight Combine men aboard, plus all of Tor's remaining crew. The Kuritists had surrendered without a fight when dozens of armed and unarmed men had swum through the bridge hatch. Heavily outnumbered and fearing a laser firefight aboard ship, they preferred to wait and see whether the warship would send forces to rescue them. Now the Combine personnel were locked away below.
General Varney squinted at the main viewscreen, which was centered on the blackness of the Invidious' jump sail. "How do you know it's coming in?"
"I know," Tor said, indicating a bank of lights. "But it'll take some time."
"Is our... ah... friend out there going to know we're up to something?"
"Possibly, General, but that sail is awfully hard to see, even on radar. They'd have to be a lot closer to actually see the sail being furled."
Slowly, majestically, the kilometer-wide disk of black metal and plastic collapsed upon itself under the tugs of computer-directed guys and running lines. And in the JumpShip's core, the Kearny-Fuchida hyperspace field generators were channelling energies gathered and stored during the preceding weeks by the face of the jump sail turned toward Trellwan.
After several minutes, as power built within the ship's slender core, Tor turned to Varney with an apologetic smile. "Of course, there is the possibility they'll pick up our emissions. If they're on their toes over there, they'll know we're getting ready to jump."
"What happens then?"
"I guess we won't know that till it happens."
* * * *
Something smashed into the side of Lori's flaming Locust with the force of a falling mountain, pitching her against the cockpit's restraining straps as the machine toppled over on its side. There was a splash, followed by a fountain of steam and white smoke. Viscous, flaming liquid spread across the surface of the water, but the 'Mech's partly submerged hull cooled quickly. Shaken, Lori brought the Locust clumsily to its feet. Yarin's Stinger stood next to her, waist-deep in the smoking water.
"Th... thank you," she told him.
The Stinger waved for answer, then turned and waded ashore. The Lancers' hovercraft had rallied, and the attackers, which had not numbered more than fifteen or 20 were pulling back, leaving their dead scattered in heaps on the sand. Several others kneeled on the sand, clutching at their ears. The noise in the cavern mouth must have caught them all by surprise, helping to disorient them.
Lori checked her 'Mech for damage. One machine gun was out, whether melted or bent in the fall, she couldn't tell. Most of the ammunition had cooked off on that side of her 'Mech, so it was possible that exploding machine gun rounds had damaged the gun. She had only three heat sinks left, and that was more serious. With only three operational heat exchangers, the Locust would overheat the first time she fired its laser — unless she could finish the battle hull-deep in the lake.
Perhaps now was the time to pull out. They could abandon the 'Mechs here, and make their way through the caverns to the north, following the maps Grayson had left them. With their ammunition running so perilously low, soon they would have to retreat, if they didn't want to be overrun.
But what about Grayson? Was it possible he was still alive. If so, wouldn't he have long since arrived to join them? Lori didn't know whether or not he'd been able to destroy the spaceport antenna, or whether he'd been destroyed himself before getting a chance. When they'd planned this battle, they had assumed that Lori would be able to see the spaceport from her position at the mouth of the Rift, and be able to tell when the antenna mast was blown. Radio silence was considered more important than a needless announcement by Grayson that his task was complete. But the Lancers had been driven all the way back inside the Rift now, and any 'Mech or human visible at the entrance drew fire from the encircling Combine forces.
Lori suddenly found her hands trembling uncontrollably — probably a delayed reaction to her terrifying brush with death. She fought to control the trembling, glad no one could see her at the moment.
Ramage was in his hovercraft, com set on his head. She opened a channel. Keep your voice steady, Kalmar! she told herself. "Sergeant Ramage?"
"Yes, Sarge? Are you O.K.?"
"Fine, Ramage. I'm fine." The shaking faded gradually, leaving her limp and weak. "What's the supply situation?"
"Not good. We've distributed the last of the ammo to the troops, and there aren't any more reloads for the 'Mechs. We have enough food for a week, maybe. No shelter, but it's warm enough right now.
"We'll definitely need shelter, though, if Captain Tor didn't get through. It will be cold by the middle of Firstnight. I don't know what we'll do then. If we don't surrender, the cold will kill us all."
Lori wondered if they shouldn't just give up now. She could see the enemy's 'Mechs moving at the bottom of the ravine, forming for another attack. The Combine 'Mechs had been bloodied, but so far only one heavy had been positively destroyed. The rest had damage that would be completely repaired in a few hundred hours. The thought was discouraging. Every hit made the Lancers' forces weaker. At best, their own scores seemed only to slow the enemy temporarily.
Lori rubbed her eyes savagely with her hands, struggling to keep awake. There were just too many of them to hold off any longer. Two badly damaged, 20-ton 'Mechs simply could not keep the fight going. She was more tired than she'd ever been. It was an effort just to grasp the conning stick and move the battered Locust a few steps forward.
Ramage was still there, waiting.
"We're going to have to retreat, Sergeant. Retreat or give it up now."
Ramage looked uncertain. "What about the Lieutenant?"
"He's dead, or he would've been here by now."
"Sarge!" That cry burst onto the com frequency, interrupting them. It was a scout Ramage had posted on the ridge with binoculars and a radio. "Sarge, they're coming again! All of them!"
Their men and machines turned to face the ravine once more. Somehow, Lori found the willpower to drive the Locust into position, to squat the machine down in firing position. The first LRMs came arching over from the bottom of the slope, bursting behind and in front of them and among the rocks and cliffs on either side.
"Hold your fire, people," she cautioned on the general combat circuit. How many could still hear her? "Save it till you can make it count."
Then the enemy rushed up the hill, the Marauder that had killed Garik in the lead. Lori opened fire on that machine, hitting it again and again! Smoke trailed now from a crater in the Marauder's flank, and the autocannon perched on its back was a smashed and broken ruin. But it kept coming.
An HVWC on Lori's right took a direct hit from a Wolverine's turret laser, and a reload pack of SRMs erupted with a flash and a blast that disintegrated the hovercraft. Two soldiers crouching nearby were jerked forward by the explosion and lay broken and still behind the earthworks. The rest of the Lancer troops held their ground, using their shoulder-fired missile launchers and hand flamers to deadly effect Three tracked vehicles were already in flames, their crews dead, and the Shadow Hawk was down with a crippled right leg.
But the others kept coming, but very slowly, as though forcing their way against a hurricane blast. The roar of exploding warheads blended with the steady drumming of the waterfall at the Lancers' backs.
Laser hits savaged the Stinger, blasting away external
antennae and chunks of armor. The Duke's men were concentrating their fire on one machine. Lori knew that once the Stinger was knocked out, it would be her turn. The Stinger stood up, wobbling jerkily, smoke pouring from a smashed side hull panel.
"Yarin! Get down!"
But the Stinger was advancing, its pilot oblivious to Lori's commands.
Maybe his radio's gone, she thought. Or he's panicked. Then it hit her that this might be his way of facing defeat She had been thinking of retreat or surrender. But he...
The Stinger took a PPC hit full in its chest. As though time were frozen, Lori's mind held the image of Yarin's 'Mech crashing backward, arms spread, into the water.
But for three surviving weapons carriers and a handful of men crouched behind the shallow earthworks and laser-charred boulders, her Locust was alone now. She kept firing, but the Marauder was almost on her now. Range 60 meters... now 40... now 20...
Just as the attacking 'Mechs drew together at the Rift's entrance, explosions ripped into them. In a moment, the enemy's ranks were in chaos as missiles arced down from the green-tinged sky with blast after blast that echoed and re-echoed from the faces of the Rift walls.
Ramage was standing on the engine cover of his hovercraft, waving his TK wildly. Lori caught his shouts through her external mikes. "The Lieutenant! It's the Lieutenant!"
Then she saw the Shadow Hawk. Though scarred, battered, and scored by laser burns, it was undeniably Grayson's 'Mech scrambling along the ridge to the east of the ravine. From that angle, LRMs came whistling down among the Duke's 'Mechs, but could not pass beyond and into the cavern mouth. The opening to the Rift was momentarily curtained off by hurtling earth and gravel, and the deafening blasts drowned out even the roar of the waterfall.
Three missiles caught the Marauder on the back and side, opening wider the gashes already torn into the armor plate. Its right arm now lay twisted and smoking on the cavern's sandy floor.
The Marauder turned then, almost sadly. It fired with its surviving PPC and laser at Grayson's Shadow Hawk, but it missed. With that, it began a shambling run back down the ridge, black smoke fuming from its hull. The surviving Combine 'Mechs broke then, each hurrying down the slope to safety, pursued by a dozen crawlers and disorganized bands of soldiers. At the top of the ridge, the Lancers began standing, slowy, dazedly, while the remaining Combine troops dropped their weapons and raised their hands in surrender. But Lori only had eyes for Grayson's scarred Shadow Hawk limping to the crest of the ridge.
37
At the jump point, energies flowed through the JumpShip's drive core, focused, then discharged in a space-twisting field that created something very close to a small, temporary black hole. In that instant, the Invidious simply vanished moments ahead of the arrival of DropShips from the enemy warship.
Aboard the Invidious, Tor felt the familiar crushing sensation, experienced that flash of momentary blindness as the void yawned around him, swallowing the ship in its eerie roar. The wan and distant disk of Trell, the myriad stars beyond dwindled into red, vanished into infrared, then were wiped away as if they'd never been. To be replaced by the arc-brilliant, fiercely radiating point of blue-white splendor that was their target star.
Tor found himself laughing helplessly in his relief and joy, while Varney pounded him on his back. They had made it!
* * * *
Claydon stood in the marbled corridor outside the Palace Reception Hall. He unhooked the holster strap on his Stetta automatic heavy pistol, and waited.
As senior Tech for the Guards 'Mech unit, he'd been assigned to Captain Nolem's personal staff. The desertion of many of the old Lancers personnel and all three working 'Mechs had left the 10th Guards without a 'Mech company — and its senior Tech with nothing to do but follow Nolem.
But Claydon's thoughts were not concerned with 'Mechs now, nor with the battle raging north of the city at the spaceport, and beyond, at Thunder Rift. Like Grayson, he, too, craved revenge.
Claydon blamed Grayson for his father's death in the fire that had also destroyed their home. If it hadn't been for the young Commonwealther, Berenir would not have made the visor call that must have alerted someone in the government to Berenir's pro-Commonwealth loyalties. That someone had had connections with the bandit forces at the Castle, had been in on the betrayal of the Commandos to Singh's forces, had been behind the successful plot to bring down Trellwan's government. Not until Claydon had met Grayson in the halls of the Palace did he realize that Carlyle, too, was a pawn in the hands of the giants who were conspiring for control of Trellwan. THAT had been what had killed Berenir. Upon learning that Grayson had taken refuge with Berenir, the conspiracy had moved swiftly to take Carlyle, capture Claydon, and silence Berenir once and for all.
Though it had been Grayson Carlyle's raid on the port that had freed him, Claydon's grief and bitterness made him refuse the offer to join the Lancers. When Lieutenant Nolem approached him after the Lancers' disastrous raid on the Castle, Claydon accepted the offer to tech for the new Lancers. The unit was being regrouped under his own command, Nolem said, and would be transferred to a Guards regiment. The fact that he was Berenir's son carried little weight with Nolem. It was clear that Claydon had no love for Grayson Carlyle. Besides, Tech-trained personnel were too valuable to waste in political quibbling.
During his tour of duty with Nolem, Claydon actually spent more time going through the computer logs and com records in the Palace and at the Guards HQ than with 'Mechs. Tech Sergeant Riviera had been a master of computer programming and searches, and he'd passed that mastery on to his astech protege. By the time Claydon met Grayson again in the Palace corridor, he'd uncovered much of what he'd wanted to know.
He had learned, for example, who in the Palace had been talking to Singh. And he knew that Singh was a Draconian Special Forces commander, warleader for the Red Duke. He knew who had leaked word of the planned assault on the Castle to Singh's forces, who had planned the revolution to begin with Ricol's' arrival, and who had ordered the murder of King Jeverid in his bed. And he knew who in the Palace had betrayed his father to the enemy 'Mechs.
He'd used the time since, several standard days, watching for his opportunity to even the score.
Claydon heard steps on the far side of the great double doors of the Reception Hall. When the doors swung open, a pair of Royal Guards, submachine guns strapped high across their chests, stepped through and flanked the doors. General Adel and Captain Nolem followed on their heels. Behind them were more soldiers and His Majesty, King Stannic.
"Ah! Claydon!" Nolem said. "Fall in! We must get to headquarters. Things seem to be going badly for the Duke at Thunder Rift."
"Nonsense," the General said. "One Lance against two companies? Don't be ridiculous!"
Claydon fell into step behind Nolem, took a deep breath, then dropped his hand to the Stetta in its holster.
A Guard shouted as the pistol came out. Claydon pivoted, bringing the heavy gun up in both hands as he swung halfway around, his finger already tightening on the trigger. Selecter set to full-auto mayhem, the machine pistol spat and stitched a line of red horror across one of the Royal Guards behind him, then across the chest of King Stannic. Utter astonishment froze on Stannic's face as the force of the bullets smashed him spread-eagled onto the mirrored floor of the Reception Hall.
Claydon kept turning, the gun still barking in his hand. A second Guard clawed at his face and thrashed against the splintering door frame. Captain Nolem drove for the floor as General Adel bellowed a command to fire, then died, his last order choked in his bullet-ripped throat.
The two surviving Guards had their Rugan SMGs in hand now, spitting fire. The slugs tore through Claydon's chest and stomach, spinning him back and into the Reception Hall. By the time he slid to a stop in the pooling blood of the former King of Trellwan, he was dead.
* * * *
Grayson sat in Duke Ricol's office, a spartan cabin in the Alpha, a DropShip of the Combine warship Huntress. The flag of t
ruce that had brought him this far rested in one corner. With narrowed eyes, he studied the Red Duke, one of the three men he had wanted so desperately to kill. Of those, only Singh was dead, burned in his Crusader by the exploding fuel tank. As for Grayson's duel with Ricol, it had ended prematurely on the slope of Thunder Rift, with, both 'Mechs too damaged to continue fighting. From the monment Ricol had turned away from the Rift, Grayson's passionate hunger for revenge had vanished.
"I've just had word that the Invidious has returned to Trellwan's jump point," Grayson said quietly, purposefully omitting the polite and proper "my Lord" and "your Grace". It was a minor spite, and served to remind this proud man of who was victor. "By now, a Commonwealth task force will be on its way."
"You don't know that, youngster."
"No, perhaps I don't. Perhaps I'm bluffing, and the Invidious no more than jumped out and returned to pick us up. But the question is, can you afford the chance?"
Ricol did not answer, and Grayson pursued his advantage. "You wanted this planet as a base for operations against the Commonwealth, but it doesn't do you a damn bit of good if the Commonwealth knows you're here. Your forces will be tied down by blockading fleets, your ground forces harassed by landings and fighter probes — and by my people, of course. You'll find it expensive, so expensive you'd have been better off staying home in the first place."
"What are you suggesting?" the Duke asked, proud and unbent.
"That you evacuate... now, while you can." Grayson leaned back in the chair and folded his hands across his stomach. Could he play this in a way that Ricol would accept? He chaffed inwardly at the need to act the peacemaker now, but there was no other choice. The Lancers could not continue this fight, not on Ricol's terms. The trick was to make the Duke see that he could not continue the fight on his terms, either.
Decision at Thunder Rift Page 30
