Decision at Thunder Rift

Grayson stooped to bring his face close beside Lori's. Even in the heat of the Locustcockpit, he was very aware of her warmth, her nearness. "I take it you have a plan?"

"Well. . . finding you, mostly."

"And now that you have?"

Something heavy and loud whanged off the Locust'storso armor, making Grayson's ears ring and even his teeth hurt. "I suppose the next step in the plan is staying alive," Lori said. "What was that you said about Thunder Rift?"

Grayson nodded as he clung to an overhead handhold. It was difficult to stand with the cockpit lurching from side to side with each stride the 'Mech took. "Yeah. A place I know in the mountains. A small army could hide there." Listening to the unearthly din clanging against the cockpit armor, Grayson recognized it as the staccato rhythm of heavy machinegun fire on the outer hull. "They may follow us."

Grayson smiled, a cold light in his eyes. "Let 'em. Hovercraft won't be able to make the trek up Gayal. Nothing else they have is fast enough."

"You've been there?"

"Many times. I know that terrain. It's broken and way too steep. Even a hoverscout wouldn't make it.”

“Can we?”

“No problem."

Grayson did not add that there were two types of vehicles that could track the Locustup the flank of Gayal to the Rift. Broken ground would not slow aircraft. He didn't know if the Combine Regiment had aerospace fighters at the port, but he did know the bandits had had helicopters. There was a good chance that they were armed with anti-armor missiles at least. Or, if they weren't, they soon would be.

The other vehicle that could follow them was another ‘Mech.

"Better alert the rest of the unit," he said. "Yee might not get through."

Grayson saw the muscles in Lori's cheeks bunch as she opened a commline. She began speaking to some unheard listener, suggesting the rendezvous at Thunder Rift

After the Rift, then what? Grayson asked himself. What came to mind was the conversation he'd had with Tor about capturing a ship to take them off Trellwan. Grayson seized on the idea, feeling hope and fear mingled.

He knew that capturing a ship would be a dfficult undertaking. The DropShip at the spaceport was merely the shuttle for transport between a planet's surface and the redstarship, which was designed to remain close by a star's jump point without ever approaching a planet. The Invidiousshould be at Trell's jump point now, ion thrusters maintaining its position against the star's gravity. The ship might have Tor's original crew, plus an unknown number of Hendrik's pirates. Or, the Red Duke may have already put his own men aboard. There was no way of knowing.

It was even possible that the Invidiouswas no more, vaporized by a missile from Duke Ricol's flotilla when he dropped from the jump point. That was unlikely, though. Starships represented a resource from the old Star League days that everyone took great care to maintain. As starships could only be built by a few remaining old League shipyards, the same practical considerations that had effectively ba

The Invidious,then, would be guarded, either by the Duke's men or by Hendrik's. But the key to getting the starship was the DropShip still squatting on the tarmac of Trellwan's spaceport. A pilot — and Tor was the only pilot Grayson knew on the planet — just might be able to take an assault force close enough to storm the freighter.

The alternative was to remain on Trellwan until another ship called at port. With Duke Ricol in charge of the planet, it was unlikely that anyone would arrive except other ships in the service of the Draco Combine.

The third alternative was to remain in the city, where they would doubtless be hunted down and killed. Or, they could flee to the deep desert or to the wilderness beyond the mountains by the equatorial sea. There they might expect to live a few weeks or months until their food ran out, until their power systems failed, and the weather or the metal-poisoned water killed them.

If they tried for a ship, at least they had a chance of surviving. Grayson was anxious to meet with Tor again, so that they could discuss the possibilities.

* * * *

Duke Hassid Alexander Ricol looked up across steepled fingers at his warleader. "Well, Singh? What do you have to report?"

Singh stood at attention before his master, attired in a fauldess black dress uniform with the blue collar and cuff tabs of the Draconian Special Forces. The Duke still wore his custom-tailored red uniform, heavy with the gold and braid that he personally found so tasteless, but that never failed to impress status-minded locals. His own office reflected his true tastes, an almost Spartan simplicity relieved only by an extravagantly wall-sized three-D holovid of a mountain stream, blue skies, and forest green. The stream foamed and splashed its way into a pool, endlessly rippling. It occupied one side wall of the office where Ricol could watch its continuing animation.

The wall behind his desk bore a topological map of the local region of Trellwan, from south of Sarghad to the southern shores of the Grimheld Sea along the equator. The map was dominated by the twisting, tightly spaced elevation contours of the mountains north and east of the city.

"The situation in the city is satisfactory, Lord. Sta

"What do you mean, 'mostly disbanded'?"

"There was resistance to the order to disband, of course. Some units fought. Some are still fighting. I dispatched one Lance to the Palace area to quell the riots there."

"Dammit, Singh, we can't have protracted fighting down there! The whole purpose of this mission is to secure Trellwan as a friendly outpost, not as a conquered and garrisoned one! This miserable ball of excrement is of no use to us at all if we must fight to hold it!"

"Y-yes, Lord. I assure you, the incidents have been minor."

"'Minor.' And what of the Trells' ‘Mechs?"

"Ah... yes, Lord." Sweat was standing out on Singh's face, now. He had served Duke Ricol for fifteen standard years, and still dreaded the man's wrath. "Two of the locals' 'Mechs have been taken by the rebels, my Lord, the Locustand the Wasp.We have taken a second Waspthat apparently has been used as a source of spare parts. Its head is missing, as well as its weapons. The Stingerthey captured from us is missing..."

"Which means someone has taken it to the mountains as well."

"The... the mountains, Lord?"

Ricol smiled unpleasantly, and swivelled his chair about to take in the area map with a careless sweep of his hand. "Where else? There's nothing to the south or west but endless desert and mineral flats. If they want to stay out of our reach, they'll assemble in the mountains somewhere, off to the north." He leaned closer to the map, peering. "There's a major pass there, a few kilometers north of here..."

"Thunder Rift, my Lord. I've been there, and checked it out The floor of the Rift is submerged in a glacial lake. There would be no passage there."

"Hmm, I wonder. 'Mechs can travel underwater. Slowly, to be sure, but they could make it."

"Of course, Lord."

"And the small fleet of military hovercraft that have vanished in the past 20 hours could skim across on the lake's surface."