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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 boots 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 I
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 hadto 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 ru
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 Sta
Grayson realized suddenly that he had not seen Sta
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.
Sta
"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."