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Grayson had a new worry now. None of the ex-prisoners had cold-weather gear. The sub-zero temperature would quickly kill them if they weren't moved to shelter fast. It was also possible the Maraudermight get them.
Grayson tracked and fired with his laser. At over three klicks, he thought he had scored hits, but could not be sure. At such ranges, even the most powerful ‘Mech-borne lasers were practically useless.
The Marauder'sautoca
The transporter ground to a rumbling halt, and the freed prisoners swarmed up along the sides, grabbing handholds and being pulled up by troopers onto the broad deck. Heavily laden hovercraft thrummed past, racing for Sarghad. Others deposited their passengers beside the transport, then swung north to gather more stragglers.
The ferrocrete emptied, except for the littered debris of battle. Grayson called all units.
"That's it! Fall back! Striker Four, drop your mines and break off! Rendezvous at Sarghad!"
Autoca
They were well underway when the Marauder,perhaps suspecting an ambush, broke off the chase.
* * * *
Thirty hours after the battle at the wadi, Harimandir Singh stared at an image of the boy he'd thought was dead.
"So," he said. The word held calm acceptance, as well as grim anticipation. He fingered the 2-D photo his spy had handed him. "So Carlyle's son is alive. And you say he'sthe one behind this... this situation?"
Stefan nodded jerkily. Singh terrified him. He never knew how the Red Duke's man would react to the news he brought, and the uncertainty was wearing on him.
Stefan had been recruited by one of Singh's agents in Viscount Vogel's staff shortly after the Commonwealth representative had arrived at the Castle. The Young Trell was proud and ambitious, and bridled under the subtleties of custom and prejudice that separated the offworlder starmen from the "indigs", the locals. That agent had played on both Stefan's pride and his greed. Stefan now had more money in one of Sarghad's banks than he'd ever seen in his life, and had been promised even larger rewards for continued loyalty in service to the Red Duke.
Stefan swallowed hard. "I was at the celebration, Lord. The King gave him a medal — his second, I believe — and made a speech. He called Carlyle's son the Deliverer of Sarghad."'
Singh's eyes flashed, sharp and cold. "He didn't see you?"
"No, Lord. I was in the back of the room. The light on the stage was bright. He couldn't have seen me, not in that crowd. I think everyone in Sarghad must have been there."
"That's good. Otherwise he might recognize you from our assault on the Castle."
"Yes, Lord."
"Carlyle will have to die, of course. The question is what to do with this new unit he's forming. Singh looked thoughtful. "They have a full Lance now. Four 'Mechs."
"Only three, Lord. I overheard two astechs talking at the reception. I gather that one of the Waspsca
"Three 'Mechs or four, it ca
"You will attack, then, Lord?" Singh's relaxed and talkative mood made Stefan more bold.
"Eh? Not while they remain in that city. Those narrow streets and alleys are deathtraps for 'Mechs. No, we will remain here, and wait."
"But Lord, how will you bring them out to fight?"
"We won't need to. They ca
"I don't understand, Lord."
"And it is not desirable that you do. If you knew the Plan, I would kill you now."
Stefan paled, and remained silent.
"I want you to return to Sarghad. You've been my eyes and ears there, Stefan. Now you will be my hand." Singh smiled at Stefan in his icy fashion, and the young Trell found the expression horrifying.
* * * *
Sarghad's hospital complex lay mosdy below ground in the southern part of the city. Its ground level was domed-over against Trellwan's extremes of climate, but an open patient lounge and exercise area was bathed in ruddy light through wall transparencies during the day. Trell was westering. The spaceport battle was a standard week in the past
Captain Renfred Tor shook Grayson's hand.
"I take it you didn't get the job you were looking for," Grayson said.
"They refused rather bluntly, I must say." Tor was well on the way to recovery, though he remained in a wheelchair while tissue grafts healed on his toes. He had been carried to the transporter by another escaping prisoner when his frostbitten feet had given out The bruises on Tor's face had healed, but there was still a haunted look to the man, some secret honor that he would not discusss.
"Well, things have changed in Sarghad. I've got a job for you, if you want it."
Tor eyed Grayson's dress greens with exaggerated distaste. "Your choice of tailors seems to have changed for the worse. You're a soldier now?"
Grayson shrugged. "They haven't signed me up formally, but yeah, I guess I am. We've been putting together a 'Mech unit. We're listed as a regiment on the staff command's T.O-., but that's wishful thinking so far. One working 'Mech, some captures, and three companies of eager but very raw recruits. We could use you."
The freighter pilot looked thoughtful. "Doing what? I'm not a military man."
Grayson walked to the wall transparency and gazed out at the frost glittering on the sand outside, which was red in Trell's westering light.
"Helping us get a ship, for one thing. Piloting us to Tharkad for another."
Tor's eyebrows climbed his forehead. "Tharkad?"
"Well, maybe to a Commonwealth base, first. Drune II is a possibility. It's only about 90 light years in." Grayson turned suddenly to face Tor. "We've beaten the pirates a couple of times, but we can't expect that to continue. What we need to do is get Commonwealth forces back here to help fight them. Carlyle's Commandos... what's left of them... probably went to Tharkad. Maybe we could join up with them."
"If they're still in commission," Tor said gently. "With no 'Mechs to their name, and precious little equipment, where could they go?"
"The Commonwealth has to know what's happening here," Grayson continued, stubbornly ignoring what Tor had said. "They could dispatch a 'Mech regiment and mop those pirates right off Mount Gayal."
"From what I've heard, your Commonwealth was more than happy to turn this cinder over to Hendrik in the first place. Why should they bother?" Tor stirred in the wheelchair, "but that's really all beside the point because you need a ship before you need a ship's captain."
"Exacdy! And that'swhy I need you. Your DropShip is still at the port. Your freighter must still be parked at the jump point If we could capture the DropShip, pack it with soldiers..."
"And have them all flamed by the Invidious'meteor defenses the moment they get within 500 klicks of her. Lad, I don't think you know what you're up against."