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He opened his eyes, blinked into the light, stood and breathed deeply, but the man's identity did not come to him. Grayson knew, though, that if he had seen that face while studying the computer files, the information he needed would still be there in the central computer in the Castle. Somehow, he thought, somehow he was going to have to get back inside the Castle.
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Grayson had lost track of time since he'd left Berenir's house with the thought of contacting Mara. Not wanting to attract unwanted attention to his offworlder origins, he'd left his wristcomp with Claydon.. And, on a world where it took the sun fifteen standard days to crawl from one horizon to the other, it was impossible to guess the time.
Whatever the hour, he was hungry and dead tired. Resting on the ledge had restored him somewhat, but he was certainly in no shape to attack anybody — certainly not a 75-ton armored giant. At the moment, the need for money overshadowed his need for vengeance, indeed, overshadowed every other need. It would get him a place to sleep, something to eat, and perhaps a bottle of dye for his tell-tale hair.
Grayson wasn't entirely sure how he was going to go about getting his hands on some local currency. Mara was his only friend, and she seemed out of reach. His only possession was a stolen hovercraft that would get him arrested the moment he tried to sell it. The local Militia frowned on attempts to procure and sell military hardware.
Emerging from the cavern near where he'd hidden the hovercraft, Grayson began rummaging through the open-topped cockpit and cargo area, looking for something he might turn to his advantage.
Three candy bars stashed in an underseat compartment were put to immediate service. There seemed to be little else of value, except for a metal toolbox crowded with ratchets, spa
His only other alternative was robbery, which seemed even less promising. Unless he was able to threaten his victim with a large wrench, Grayson wouldn't be taken seriously as an armed robber, and he had no stomach for striking i
He decided to try to sell the tools, then perhaps make his way to the spaceport and find Captain Tor. Failing that, he might be able to get a job as a hand in one of Sarghad's agrodomes. He didn't care what the job was. All he needed was to keep alive on a hostile planet while he pla
Leaving the skimmer behind a warehouse on the outskirts of the city, Grayson walked toward the hub, carrying the toolbox. He wasn't certain how to find what he wanted, and feared asking directions. His mud-smeared, scarecrow appearance wouldn't help his chances of getting a straight answer, and he didn't know enough about Trell culture to guess where a pawn shop or tool supply house might be located. After some thought, he decided that his best chance was to try the Streets of the Merchants. With feet aching in his too-light boots, he stumbled in the general direction of Sarghad's business quarter.
Twice he became lost, straightening out only when he realized he had reached the Hub. There were the Palace Gardens, the domes of the Palace showing above spreading, cobalt shrubs alive with short-lived flowers. If he could just reach Mara, every problem would be solved! But the green-coated soldiers still paraded inside the main gate, and the streets were thick with Palace Guards and the brown uniforms of the Militia. If he were to try scaling the three-meter fence, they would cut him down before he made it to the top.
No, the Third Street of the Merchants was back THAT way. He would try to find Mara later.
* * * *
Singh stood just inside the gaping Repair Bay doors. As he watched the troops fall into formation, thunder boomed incessantly from the mountains above the Castle. He had four full companies, about 300 men under his direct command, as well as five 'Mechs. Two companies ma
Behind the ranks of faceless, armor-masked troops towered the five 'Mechs of the battalion. Lieutenant Vallendel's Marauderwas the lead BattleMech, of course, and would head up the actual fighting, but he was in overall command.
He, Harimandir Singh, in command of a five-'Mech Lance! It was a singular honor that the Duke had bestowed on him. Covert operations such as Code Dragon were too sensitive, too delicate to be given into the hands of a relatively junior MechWarrior like Vallendel. It made Singh proud that the Duke had entrusted this fighting force into his care, that he had placed Code Dragon under his command until it was time for the Duke to make his own appearance. Singh savored the heady rush of power.
Four smaller 'Mechs flanked the Marauder:a Stinger,a Locust,and the pair of Waspscaptured during the battle with Carlyle's Lance. Singh was less certain of their pilots than he was of Vallendel. The Lieutenant was one of the Duke's experienced warriors, hand-picked for this mission, but three of the pilots of the four 20-to
Sergeant Mendoza, the Stinger'spilot, was the only one with any experience, having spent a good many years piloting 'Mechs in the service of the Duke. That one would go down fighting when the time came. Sing's dark eyes narrowed at the thought. It might be best to end his career with an assassin's blade first, to prevent u
The Waspswere piloted by Sigurdian mercenaries, privates Enzelman and Fitzhugh, and the Locustby a Corporal Kalmar. All three were painfully inexperienced, fresh from their apprenticeships on one of Hendrik’s worlds, but they seemed competent enough. They'd joined the unit on Sigurd just before the expedition had left to rendezvous with the Mailai freighter.
It was not, perhaps, the most skillful or best trained of 'Mech lances, but it would be more than adequate against the pathetic popinjays defending Sarghad. That single skirmish on the outskirts of the town earlier had proven that. Imagine, armored perso
His forces had only just returned from Sarghad, and he could see that the men were tired, then- formation less than rigidly perfect Whether the troops were tired or not, Singh intended to continue to push the indigs with all he had, as hard as he could. They would not know a moment's respite until the Plan's second phase.
Parts of the city were still sending up twisting coils of black smoke where fires raged among those barbarian shacks and hovels. Singh knew it was time to strike again, before the indigs could recover from the first raid so recendy over.