Mercenary's Star

Verthandi was the second of the three-world system of Norn, but the name meant nothing to Grayson. Why should it? There were so manyworlds...Verthandi had once been a peaceful world, Erudin explained, its countryside devoted to agriculture. Verthandi had also been well known throughout much of the Commonwealth for its university at the capital city of Regis.

"That all changed, though," he said. "Ten years ago, there was a major Kurita offensive...."

Grayson nodded. "At Dahlgren, yes." He'd been there himself, though only a boy of ten at the time. That had been the year he'd formally become a Warrior's Apprentice in his father's regiment, Carlyle's Commandos. He could still remember his father's anguish when one of Kurita's Sword of Light regiments had dropped onto the Commandos' rear in the battle of Dahlgren. They'd had to retreat or face a

"Verthandi was one of them," Erudin said. "The first thing the Combine did was to establish a naval base on our moon, Verthandi-Alpha. We had been totally reliant on the Lyrans for military support. Outside of a few freighters and merchantmen, we had nothing in the way of ships—not even for a short hop to our own moon."

Grayson nodded again. Verthandi was a Lostech world if its people were that dependent on others for transport and commerce. He knew, too, that House Kurita would not have encouraged them to become more independent, but would have shifted the Verthandians' dependence toward itself. Worlds dependent on them for trade and high-tech gadgetry were unlikely to become rebellious.

Erudin took a deep breath. "The next thing we knew, they'd landed troops, engineers, and heavy equipment. Their surveys had suggested that Verthandi might be rich in certain metals, and they began mining for the stuff." He shrugged. "We'd never paid much attention to such things. We kept to ourselves, governed ourselves. Galactic politics and the Succession Wars were rather outside our grasp, I'm afraid."

Grayson's lips curved, more grimace than smile. "The Draconis Combine does not take well to the idea of self-government. They prefer to help."

"Help themselves, you mean," Tor said.

"That's what it amounted to," Erudin said. "Our planetary forces fought them, but they merely brought in more troops and seized our spaceport and Regis, the capital. They ordered new elections and saw to it that their own people took most of the Council seats. They opened mines in the Southern Desert, working them with people rounded up at gunpoint from various communities. We fought back, of course." His thin shoulders rose and fell in a hopeless shrug. "We fought back. We kept fighting back...but when they brought in the BattleMechs, we couldn't keep the fight going. The Dracos burned whole towns, leveled villages. Any home suspected of harboring rebels was burned, and the families of rebels were shot or sent south to the mines.

"The Revolutionary Council finally decided it was time to look for help offworld. I managed to get here by joining the crew of a Verthandian merchant who overtly supports the Loyalist government and the Combine, but who secretly works with us. His ship got me to Gronden, and from there, I was able to arrange passage to Galatea. We'd heard that this was where we would find mercenaries for hire and that I'd be able to buy radios, guns, and other equipment that we need so badly."

The bargirl returned with their drinks. Ice clinked in the glasses as she set them down. "That's five-H fifty for the lugens," she said, "and three twenty-five for the ice water."

"I'll be frank with you, Captain," Erudin said gravely as he counted off the money for the drinks. "The Revolutionary Council sent me here to find a small, battle-hardened unit to serve as a training cadre. Our forces have been scattered... Hell, we've been bloody well hammered into the ground every time we've tried to meet Kurita on their own terms. At the moment, we've been reduced to hiding out in the hills and in the jungle, sniping at the Dracos when we can."

Erudin intently studied the glass in his hand. "Sniping is not going to win our war for us. We know that. We need someone our people can rally around... someone who can show us how to use what we've got to beat those Brownjackets. I don't care how many BattleMechs they've got, if enough of our people rise up, no ‘Mech force in the galaxy could stand against them!"

"Heroic sentiments, Citizen...."

Erudin's face flushed. "I wouldn't expect a mercenaryto understand."

"Mercenaries fight for causes, too, my friend, but I do have to look out for my people," Grayson said quietly. "What else can you tell me?"

The rest was not encouraging. There were pieces of four Kurita BattleMech regiments on Verthandi. Though only one was known to be at full strength, that still meant the Legion could be facing hundreds of enemy ‘Mechs.

The situation was not as hopeless as it first appeared, or Grayson would simply have thanked Erudin for his time and left on the spot. Those four partial regiments were scattered all over Verthandi's northern hemisphere, tied down in garrison details in scores of towns and villages, airfields and mines. The Combine forces were known to muster numerous AeroSpace Fighters, too, but most of those were assigned to the Kurita base on Verthandi’s moon. Finally, there were the eight regiments of "Blues," Loyalist militia directed by the Kurita puppet government in Regis. Though they numbered thousands of ground troops, Erudin said that their morale was low.

"There's nothing like a formal blockade," Erudin had explained. "Your ship captain here said you could disguise your DropShip to look like a Kurita UnionClass freight hauler. If you did that, they might not challenge us at all. I can direct you to a landing spot in the Azure Sea area, where the jungle will shelter you." Once safely down, he continued, they would link up with the Revolutionary Council. The Legion's chief duties would consist of training cadres of Verthandian rebels, particularly in infantry tactics against Battle-Mechs.

It was not an enviable assignment. The unit was being asked to run a Kurita blockade and then to strand itself on a world garrisoned by hundreds of enemy ‘Mechs. They would have to avoid direct contact with a vastly superior enemy army, while teaching the local rebels how to effectively fight back. The fact that they would be engaged in a bloody, fratricidal civil war simply increased the chances that someone would betray them to the Combine forces. Even if they succeeded in their mission, whether or not the Gray Death Legion would ever get off Verthandi depended on the success of what sounded like a ragtag rebellion. Most mercenary units would not even consider such a high-risk, uncertain mission.

The Gray Death Legion, however, could not refuse. But AgroMechs!Grayson thought How in God's name did these rebels expect to fight with AgroMechs?

In the end, they'd hammered out an agreement. Though Grayson still had his doubts, the Legion needed the commission. Either that or dissolve the unit, leaving each man for himself on Galatea.

3

Galatea's F8 sun was a tiny white disk against the shimmering heat of early afternoon. In spite of the heat, the starport field bustled with activity, especially near Bay Twelve where a DropShip crouched ponderously in its launch pit. Weaving intricate choreographies between the ship and Bay Twelve's service area were long, low vehicles whose electric motors keened under the strain of provision canisters piled high on their flatbeds. LoaderMechs lifted those canisters to DropShip crewmen, who were busy stowing them.