Mercenary's Star

Ramage had picked and trained this assault team himself. He gave the orders, pointing out the damage he'd noted on the BattleMech's cockpit. If white-hot inferno streams could be directed at that opening, they'd fry the Kurita pilot before he even knew what had happened.

The Marauderlumbered closer. Ramage opened his throat mike. "Now, boys! Take him!"

37

Grayson saw the black-suited commando team roll across the rubble barricade, lugging their satchels and the deadly, twin-tubed shape of the inferno launcher after them.

"Lori, quick! Undog the canopy!"

"Huh? But..."

"Do it, or we're dead!" She squeezed past the control seat, reaching past the instrument consoles to twist the hatch lugs. The Maraudermounted several hatches in its flattened, egg-shaped hull, one up topside, another in the belly between the legs. The canopy was designed to open as well, making it easier to repair or replace circuitry in the instrumentation. It also gave Marauderpilots cramped in the stifling heat of their enclosed cabin an opportunity to let in a bit of cool air.

Lori hauled at the hatch release. It didn't move.

"Grayson, I can't budge it! It's stuck!"

From his control seat, Grayson could not reach the hatch release without disco

Desperately, Grayson sca

And it was useless to try the radio. Each BattleMech and infantry unit had microprocessor-monitored guards on all transceivers. Those simple-minded computers used a programmed code to scramble and unscramble all communications within the unit. The result was that enemy units who happened upon the right radio frequency might hear a battle transmission before or during combat, but they would never figure out what was being said unless they had access to the same computer transceiver program. Grayson knew what frequency the commandos were using, but they would hear only electronic gibberish when he spoke.

His own throat mike was gone, knocked away and lost during his scramble with the Kurita interrogator. The Marauder'sradio was useless until it could be reprogrammed to translate the Gray Death's battlecodes.

Grayson gave no thought to any of this. In his mind's eye, he could see the commando's finger tightening on the trigger.

Lori pulled again on the stubborn hatch release. As she hauled back, she looked up, saw the shapes ahead, and gasped.

"Down, Lori! Down flat!" When she didn't move, he swept a booted foot out, knocking her ankles from under her. She fell, bringing her arms up over her head. Grayson brought his hand down on the emergency eject controls, slapped off the arming switch cover, and stabbed the bright red button exposed underneath.

Explosive bolts banged on the outer hull, and the canopy split over their heads, its two halves falling away to either side in the sudden gust of fresh air that spilled in from a green sky. Grayson was already on his feet. Though encumbered by the tangle of cables spilling from his neurohelmet to their co

Then Ramage was on his feet, waving and shouting, and the trooper with the inferno lowered his weapon with the reluctance of a professional denied the chance to demonstrate his craft.

Grayson sank back in his seat, suddenly drained. "It's all right, Lori," he said as she levered herself up to her knees using the seat's armrest for support. His voicecracked, and he felt a strange sensation in his hands. Looking down at them, he realized they were trembling. Death by fire had brushed close by them both. To be trapped, helpless, consumed in agony...

It took him a second more to control his voice. "I think I finally know what you've been feeling all this time."

Governor General Nagumo motioned to his bodyguards and turned from the communications center. Kodo had been alerted to the situation and would arrive with reinforcements from Verthandi-Alpha in a few hours.

Not that he really needed Kodo's presence, but Nagumo did not believe in doing things by half measures. The DropShips landing outside Regis would serve to warn the Verthandians in the city to keep the peace in the wake of the pitched battle in and about the University grounds. With luck, the landings would trap some of the rebel soldiers who'd been reported in the fields outside the city proper.

Somewhere in the distance, a fire alarm was wailing. A blaze was out of control in the lower levels of the Tower, and gunfire or some other cause had wrecked the automatic sprinklers built into the University ceilings. The fire control crews were all Loyalist Verthandians, but most of them had already fled, abandoning their Kurita masters to their fate. According to the building monitors, that fire was spreading with ferocious speed through the lower sections. The Tower's remaining staff would have to evacuate Very soon.

There was still time to win the battle in the courtyard and to crush the rebel forces outside the city as well. If the reports were accurate, most of the mercenary BattleMechs were inside the walls of the University now, trapped by the sudden redeployment he'd ordered from the Tower a few moments before. From his vantage point, Nagumo could see the Courtyard spread out like a sand-table battle at the Luthien Military Academy, could look beyond the main gate and see his own forces massing for their assault. It had taken only a moment to consult computer records and find the forgotten passageway. That rebel woman, Helgameyer, had spoken of the tu

The tu

The Gray Death would die at his feet in the courtyard below.

He hurried to his office, noting the empty passageways. Many of the building's workers had already fled. News of the fire in the Tower sublevels had spread quickly.

"Wait here," he told his guards, and he stepped through into his office. A strange drama was unfolding in the courtyard below his window. A Marauder—Kevlavic's Marauder—was emerging from the repair facility and advancing on the enemy commandos' perimeter.

Strange. The Colonel was in the hospital, still recovering from the amputation of his arm. Had one of the Techs powered up the machine in an attempt to rush the commando defenses?

The door hissed open behind him. He turned, a puzzled scowl forming on his face. "What do you..."

He stopped, open-mouthed. The girl who stood there held a stun pistol in one hand, a long, keen-bladed combat dagger in the other. She stepped past the senseless forms of the two bodyguards, her face an expressionless mask. She wore a form-hugging black outfit and combat harness, and her face was smeared with black camouflage paint.

"Who the devil are you?" he demanded with a scowl, though she looked familiar somehow. "Do I know you?"