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That problem would never go away entirely, though Lori had made some progress on her own. Once, after she gave an order to an astech, he simply ignored her. Though she repeated the command, the man responded with a leer and a suggestion about what he'd like to do instead. But warrior apprentices on Sigurd were well trained in the martial disciplines. They learned not only how to pilot a 'Mech, but how to use firearms, sticks, knives, and bare hands to deadly effect The insubordinate astech woke up to find himself a guest in Sarghad's hospital, where he was being treated for a broken jaw. From that time on, Sergeant Kalmar found her orders greeted with considerably greater enthusiasm.
* * * *
Grayson was dismayed by the fact that there were no spare parts to repair machines that broke down, little oil to lubricate machinery, and the computer programs used to coordinate schedules and duty rosters and muster lists were hopelessly inadequate. A team detailed to salvage diamond monofilament wire from junked sections of boron nitride armor plate was stalled by a lack of the proper chemicals for the extraction process.
He grew short on sleep, became impatient, and drove the unit harder. Morale sagged, and five men were placed on report for fighting in one period alone. Seven enlisted men simply walked away from the barracks during another period and never returned. No one stopped them at the door because the man on sentry duty was one of the seven. When troops restricted to the post routinely showed up for work drunk or failed to show at all, Grayson had to detail three of his junior NCOs just to patrol the area for hidden caches of alcohol.
Then, a new difficulty arose with Lori. If the Lancers were to have any chance of operating against offworld forces, they needed more than the single Locustoperational. The first step would be capturing the other Wasp.If necessary, they would have to destroy it and use its head to replace the shattered one on the Waspnow in the Lancers' possession. Lori had been troubled when Grayson had asked her about the man who would likely be piloting the Waspthey intended to capture or kill.
"Private Enzelman and I were never what you'd call close," she told him. "But he's a Sigurdian, and a long way from home, like me. I... I don't think I can help you to... to kill him."
The pain in her eyes touched Grayson. Many of her critics still didn't trust Lori's willingness to work for her former enemies, and she was trapped between the need to prove her loyalty and her loyalty to a fellow warrior.
"I can take you off the project," he said.
"And go back to that dungeon? That's where your General Adel wants me, you know. Him and Lieutenant Nolem." She shuddered.
Grayson leaned back, reflecting. "You know, everything depends on our taking that Waspwith its cockpit intact. What we need to do is develop a diversion that will let me get close enough to cripple it without touching its head or your friend Enzelman." He spread his hands. "I can't promise more than that"
She managed half a smile. "What I'd really like is to get him to come over to the Lancers. The only reason he's fighting for themis that he doesn't know there's an alternative."
Grayson thought of his five warrior recruits, and nodded gravely. During the practice session earlier that period, one of the men had tripped the Locustover its own feet, and it was only fool's luck that had kept the irreplaceable machine from being badly damaged. Grayson was despairing of any of those five ever taking a 'Mech into combat.
"Believe me, Lori. I intend to try to do just that. We need 'Mech pilots, and we're not going to grow them ourselves here in Sarghad."
She'd looked up at him, her eyes shining. "Do you... do you mean that? I mean, that I might con a 'Mech again?"
Grayson rubbed his eyes. "I can't promise it, not now. But damned if I know where else I can get 'Mech pilots. It takes years of apprenticeship to learn how to con one. Ha! Look at us! Apprentices half our lives, and neither of us had even graduated yet when we found ourselves... here."
Lori laid her hand on Grayson's arm, a warm and gentle touch. "I'll do whatever has to be done, Gray."
How had they slipped into a first-name basis? Grayson could not remember. He did know that he felt comfortable with Lori, able to talk to her, to discuss plans, and that he missed her when she was not there. Perhaps their growing friendship had something to do with the fact that they both felt so alone here.
"Well all do what has to be done," he said. "It's called 'survival.'"
Two periods later, Lieutenant Nolem filed a report with General Adel on 'subversive elements within the unit.' He named no one, but it was clear he had Lori in mind as the one directly responsible for the unit's poor morale. As the sun rose on a crisp, clear, -20 degree morning on Seconday, the First Trellwan Lancers seemed farther away from being combat ready than ever.
18
The Lancers needed combat to draw them together. More importantly, Grayson realized, they needed a victory.
By the time the red sun had reached its zenith in the clear chill cold of Seconday, the Lancer T.O. & E. showed the two combat platoons as having 40 men each. This force constituted the Ground Strike Unit and had been trained in anti-Mech infantry tactics. How well they would be able to put Grayson's lectures into practice remained to be seen. The astech support platoon now numbered 63, and Tech Sergeant Brooke — under Master Sergeant Lori Kalmar's direction — had both ‘Mechs mechanically sound and operational. The Wasp,however, still lacked a head.
Written out on the unit T.O. & E. chart, it all looked quite impressive, but Grayson knew that even a full battalion with four times as many men — even well-trained and experienced men — would be hard pressed to handle even one attacking 'Mech. And when one of those ‘Mechs was a 75-ton Marauder...
The heart of any 'Mech unit was the combat Lance — the 'Mechs themselves. Ideally a balance of four 'Mechs working together, sometimes accompanied by an air Lance of aerospace fighters, the unit's 'Mechs were the whole reason for the existence of support combat units. Except for special units, most 'Mech Lances, especially mercenary units, had no ground strike force at all and consisted of 'Mechs and Techs alone. Without 'Mechs, a unit consisting of mere men was practically defenseless.
And the Lancers had exactly one combat-ready light 'Mech.
It was a few tens of hours shy of midday Seconday, and the Trellwan Light Lancers were deploying for combat As Grayson had explained to General Varney when he submitted his proposal, "We fight now, and win — or it's all been for nothing."
There was more than the fighting morale of the Lancers at stake. Grayson needed more than one 'Mech if the Lance was to have any chance at all. And the only way they were going to get another 'Mech was to take one away from the enemy.
The spaceport north of Sarghad was an unsightly sprawl of gray and white buildings across the otherwise empty countryside. The ground there was largely barren, broken by thick clumps of blue-tufted qykka and patchy swards of blue-green prairie grass. The highway that linked port and city was pocked and rutted by Trellwan's vicious weather cycle, and had been but rarely travelled even before the coming of the bandit raiders.
Below the road was a chain of arroyos, gulleys carved through the arid ground by repeated Thirday meltwater floods. Grayson had noted this particular wadi during terrain-mapping expeditions when it was Carlyle's Commandos who occupied the Castle some ten kilometers northeast, on the other side of the port It had survived the last series of floods and existed now as a broad, dry cha