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The door burst open behind Grayson, and armed men crowded in.
"Here's your prisoner," Mara said. Hands closed over Grayson's arms, holding him upright when he thought he was going to keel over. He was dizzy... weak.
From far away, he heard General Adel say, "I'm sorry for the disturbance, Your Majesty."
Sta
* * * *
The only reason Lori had been awake was that she'd not been alone. Garik Enzelman was with her, the two of them sharing memories of Sigurd with gentle touches and lingering kisses.
She'd gone to Garik after the assassination attempt. She'd known Grayson was headed for Mara's apartment that day, and her own hurt and jealousy had driven her to the one person with whom she could talk, remember, and feel less alone. They reminisced about life on Sigurd, the moon of a sullenly glowing gas giant. Circling its brilliant but distant F4 star, Sigurd was even more frigid and forbidding than Trellwan. They talked of their experiences in the service on Sigurd and in the time since, and they talked of their future on Trellwan.
They'd come to no certain decision, beyond the fact that the future looked dark for them. Enzelman wanted to join the Draconian forces. Then, at least, he would not have to deal with the anti-Oberon prejudice of the Trell indigs. Lori was not so sure, but she listened to him all the same.
Garik was two standard years younger than Lori. His abrupt, almost bumbling ma
Well... almost. She could share with him what she was not busily walling up somewhere inside her hurt and confusion. Why did she keep thinking of Grayson?
"The Dracos won't be any better."
"I don't really see what choice we have," Garik said. "If we stay on Trellwan, we have nothing to face but prison... or death. I understand they enjoy setting people loose in the desert here, unprotected."
"The Draconians might not want us." She was remembering the polish and snap of those legions debarking from their DropShips. Those were professional soldiers, in every sense of the word.
"Then again, they might. Technical people are always in demand. And the fighting's over now. That means they'll be recruiting and training for their next project, whatever that is."
"Does it?" She wondered where Grayson was. This period, he'd be with Mara, no doubt, but where would he be after this shakeup in command? General Adel wasn't about to leave him in charge of so potent a force as a 'Mech Lance. There had already been outbreaks of violence when Guards units had ordered the Militia to disband, and rumors were spreading that General Varney had been placed under arrest.
They both heard the whine of hovercraft outside the building at the same moment. When Lori peered out past the curtain, she'd seen the fifteen or 20 Guards dismounting from military HVTs and converging on her door. Obviously, this was no social call. With the Guards in power, with Adel calling the shots, she and Garik had become targets.
They dressed quickly, and were pulling on boots and jackets when the pounding on the door began. "This way," Lori said. Slipping through the glass door on the other side of the apartment, they passed into the enclosed patio behind the building, and made their way rapidly across the street toward the Lancers' HQ.
There was sporadic and nagging gunfire in front of the old Militia armory, but no sign of a major assault. Troops, both Militia and Guards, were moving through streets already clogged with panicking civilians, and there seemed to be no organization to either group's movements at all.
Captain Tor met Lori and Garik at the door to the armory, an MP-20 in his hand. Behind him was Sergeant Ramage, coatless and carrying a TK. Ramage was shivering with cold.
"Lori!" Tor exclaimed "You're safe!"
Even Ramage looked relieved. While not outwardly opposing Lori's position in the unit, Sergeant Ramage had remained carefully neutral toward her. He gri
"But how?"
Ramage jerked his head toward the armory HQ. "We've got the Locustcommand net radio tuned into their operations frequency. It's a general rising by the Guards. Minister Sta
"What about the Lancers?"
"The order came down about an hour ago. We're to stand down and wait for Captain Nolem to take charge of us. Seems we're being transferred to the Dracos."
"The Dracos!"
"Lori," Tor said, worry creasing his face. "There's worse. They've got the Lieutenant. We intercepted a report that he was being taken to Guards HQ across from the Palace."
No matter what mixture of hurt and anger she was feeling toward Grayson, she certainly wouldn't stand by while the Guards marched him off to their cells. It was all too likely that Grayson Death Carlyle would never reappear once they got him inside that HQ.
She looked up at Tor. "Ren... is the Locustready?"
"We warmed her up when we started eavesdropping. Why?"
"Listen, get in touch with as many of our people as you can." Then she gave rapid-fire instructions to Ramage and Tor. The unit had to be rallied, the Stingerand Wasppowered up and taken out of the city. She wasn't sure yet where they would go. Perhaps into the mountains. Damn, she thought, if only Grayson were here. He knew this land, knew the terrain and where they might be able to hide. One thing was certain, however. They couldn't stay where they were.
"Sergeant, Captain Tor... I'm counting on you. Get everyone you can back here to the HQ, set up a perimeter, and hold it. Send out all the hovercraft we've got to get our people. The city is going to be up for grabs for hours yet, so you ought to be able to get through. Don't fight with the Guard. Just try to avoid them. And call Corporal Yee. Have him assemble a squad for a 'Mech ground support mission."
"Where are you going?" Ramage looked worried.
Lori didn't answer. She was already sprinting toward the Locust.
* * * *
A Guards squad had escorted Grayson across the Palace grounds and a street crowded with people to the Royal Guards headquarters building on the Hub. There were jail cells in the basement, and a platoon-strength patrol of armed and armored Guardsmen pacing the grounds outside.
As he was being led down the steps, Grayson could hear a public address system somewhere in the distance braying the news that Trellwan was now part of the glorious brotherhood of the Draconis Combine. The people were being told to disperse, to return to their homes and listen for further news on their visors. The crowds, however, showed no signs of being ready to disperse.
His cell was reasonably clean, and was furnished with a sink, toilet, bunk, chair, and table. The bare electric bulb that dangled from the cell's high ceiling cast a harsh yellow light over the thick stone walls, which were broken only by a latticework of electronically locked steel bars. Grayson knew he would not be going out that way without permission.
He sat down heavily on the bunk, feeling tiredness like a heavy pack across his shoulders. To think that Sta