Decision at Thunder Rift

He had learned, for example, who in the Palace had been talking to Singh. And he knew that Singh was a Draconian Special Forces commander, warleader for the Red Duke. He knew who had leaked word of the pla

He'd used the time since, several standard days, watching for his opportunity to even the score.

Claydon heard steps on the far side of the great double doors of the Reception Hall. When the doors swung open, a pair of Royal Guards, submachine guns strapped high across their chests, stepped through and flanked the doors. General Adel and Captain Nolem followed on their heels. Behind them were more soldiers and His Majesty, King Sta

"Ah! Claydon!" Nolem said. "Fall in! We must get to headquarters. Things seem to be going badly for the Duke at Thunder Rift."

"Nonsense," the General said. "One Lance against two companies? Don't be ridiculous!"

Claydon fell into step behind Nolem, took a deep breath, then dropped his hand to the Stetta in its holster.

A Guard shouted as the pistol came out. Claydon pivoted, bringing the heavy gun up in both hands as he swung halfway around, his finger already tightening on the trigger. Selecter set to full-auto mayhem, the machine pistol spat and stitched a line of red horror across one of the Royal Guards behind him, then across the chest of King Sta

Claydon kept turning, the gun still barking in his hand. A second Guard clawed at his face and thrashed against the splintering door frame. Captain Nolem drove for the floor as General Adel bellowed a command to fire, then died, his last order choked in his bullet-ripped throat.

The two surviving Guards had their Rugan SMGs in hand now, spitting fire. The slugs tore through Claydon's chest and stomach, spi

* * * *

Grayson sat in Duke Ricol's office, a spartan cabin in the Alpha,a DropShip of the Combine warship Huntress.The flag of truce that had brought him this far rested in one corner. With narrowed eyes, he studied the Red Duke, one of the three men he had wanted so desperately to kill. Of those, only Singh was dead, burned in his Crusaderby the exploding fuel tank. As for Grayson's duel with Ricol, it had ended prematurely on the slope of Thunder Rift, with, both 'Mechs too damaged to continue fighting. From the monment Ricol had turned away from the Rift, Grayson's passionate hunger for revenge had vanished.

"I've just had word that the Invidioushas returned to Trellwan's jump point," Grayson said quietly, purposefully omitting the polite and proper "my Lord" and "your Grace". It was a minor spite, and served to remind this proud man of who was victor. "By now, a Commonwealth task force will be on its way."

"You don't know that, youngster."

"No, perhaps I don't. Perhaps I'm bluffing, and the Invidiousno more than jumped out and returned to pick us up. But the question is, can you afford the chance?"

Ricol did not answer, and Grayson pursued his advantage. "You wanted this planet as a base for operations against the Commonwealth, but it doesn't do you a damn bit of good if the Commonwealth knows you're here. Your forces will be tied down by blockading fleets, your ground forces harassed by landings and fighter probes — and by my people, of course. You'll find it expensive, so expensive you'd have been better off staying home in the first place."

"What are you suggesting?" the Duke asked, proud and unbent.

"That you evacuate... now, while you can." Grayson leaned back in the chair and folded his hands across his stomach. Could he play this in a way that Ricol would accept? He chaffed inwardly at the need to act the peacemaker now, but there was no other choice. The Lancers could not continue this fight, not on Ricol's terms. The trick was to make the Duke see that he could not continue the fight on his terms, either.

"If you stay," Grayson continued, "my people remain in the field, harassing you and making life miserable for everyone, themselves included. We'd rather see you off of Trellwan, and at this point, I suspect you'd rather see that too."

"You'd let us go?"

"My word on it, your Grace. Frankly, Thunder Rift was hard on both of our forces. We have no wish to continue fighting — not unless you force us to it"

That was both an understatement and stark misrepresentation on Grayson's part. Though his astechs would soon have five 'Mechs working again from among the wrecks left on the ridge, at the moment the Shadow Hawkwas the only fully functional BattleMech remaining. Nor could Ricol suspect that, at that moment, Grayson could call upon exactly 30 unwounded men.

There were so many dead, and so many more wounded. And there were some injuries that seemed deeper than those of flesh and blood.

"Where were you?" Lori had asked, pain in her eyes. There'd been no anger in the words, only hurt and something like sorrow. With her 'Mech burning around her, she had called for his help. He knew how she feared death by fire, and it must have seemed that he'd abandoned her. He'd reached out for Lori, and she'd turned away. "No, Gray. Not... just... no." There had been a violation of the trust between them, and no telling if that particular wound would ever heal.

It seemed that the price for revenge was high, much higher than those caught in the crossfire could afford to pay. And what vengeance was there, after all? What could restore the dead?

"You're right, of course," Ricol said. That simple admission, the sag of his shoulders, caught Grayson by surprise. "As allies, the Trell indigs would have been useful. But we can't afford to garrison a backwater desert like Trellwan, not when the planet is in revolt, and Sta

"The I

Ricol shrugged. "So, if you want Trellwan, youngster, it's yours. And welcome. A dreary, savage place." The

Speechless, Grayson could only nod. Duke Ricol was requesting that his men and machines be allowed to leave Trellwan, that his troops keep their guns and equipment, that everything remain as if the Duke's men had never come to Trellwan in the first place.

What of all the dead? Grayson thought. Larressen, Enzelman, Claydon, Ari, Kai Griffith, his father... and so many more...

"Full privileges," Grayson said at last "And the sooner you burn for your starship, the better."

EPILOGUE

"Ten... SHUT!"

Ranks of grey-clad men snapped to attention in the sullen light of the westering sun. Master Sergeant Ramage did a sharp about-face and saluted Grayson. "COMP'ny all present and accounted for, SIR!"

Grayson let his eyes run along the rows of men, each armed, each with his duffel bag of equipment, uniforms, and personal gear at his feet. Beyond the last rank, the 'Mechs were lined up as well, towering above the assembly. The two Waspsand the Stingerhad been salvaged on the field and repaired. The Locustand the Shadow Hawkhad been completely refitted. All were newly painted, too, with emblems of a death's head in gray and black against a red background on each 'Mech's left leg. Grayson's eyes strayed to the Locust,as though trying to see past armor and sensors to the woman inside.