The Price of Glory

"Your Grace, if I do nothing else, I intend to make certain that the destroyers of Tiantan don't benefit from this."

It was long after sunset when King and Grayson raced southeast across the North Highland Plains, leaving the lights of Helmdown behind them. Their session with Ricol had taken longer than expected. Not that there had been problems with the negotiations. The Red Duke understood that there was no clear guarantee that Grayson would even be able to get into the Star League cache—at least, not without bringing down half a mountain on top of it. He was willing to gamble on Grayson's being able to get in and find something worth taking, though. He did not even quibble, as Grayson had expected, over the number of BattleMechs and other equipment he would get. "That," Ricol had said, "is premature, at best. We don't know what you will find when you enter. We don't know what we will have time to remove when you get in. We don't know where the enemy will be, or in what force. We may be fortunate merely to escape with the lives of you and your regiment." He had shaken his head and smiled. "But, gods of space, what a victory if we win our gamble! There'll be plenty for both of us and we can divide it up later."

"Oh, so you're cutting us in for a share?" Grayson had asked.

"My young friend, if this cache is what I believe it to be, there will be far more there than you or I together could ever use."

Grayson had grown serious. "I want my regiment . . . intact."

"And that I will endeavor to provide."

It was the strategic details of the latter point that had proven time-consuming. Grayson had pointed out that some fifty of his people were prisoner, at last report still held aboard the DropShips in Cleft Valley. Grayson was not sure why they had not been moved, though he suspected that Langsdorf hoped to use them to draw the Legion out of Durandel to battle. The prisoners would not be moved so long as Langsdorf believed that Grayson was still there. When he discovered that the Gray Death had gone, the captives would probably be moved to Helmdown. Or worse, killed.

What Grayson wanted was for Ricol to plan a raid to recover the DropShips. That would not be easy, and could be quite costly in both men and machines. Grayson had pointed out the logic, however. If the Deimosand the Phobos,could be freed along with their crews, they could go to the place temporarily being called the Rendezvous, a yet-to-be selected landing site somewhere in the vicinity of the weapons cache. That would allow Grayson's people to load aboard their own ships, while Ricol filled his empty DropShips with whatever they could recover from the cache.

Ricol's two JumpShips would carry a total of eight DropShips; his own six, plus Grayson's two. The Huntresswould carry the Deimosand the Phobosto the neighboring star system of Stewart, where the Legion's ships could be dropped off to rejoin Captain Tor and the Invidious.The Gray Death Legion would then go its way, while Ricol's squadron returned to Kurita space.

In its broad outlines, the plan was simple, but it became a monstrously complex nightmare to consider the individual details. How was a landing zone for the Rendezvous to be chosen? How would it be marked? How could Ricol's twelve BattleMechs hope to capture the Deimosand the Phobosfrom a watchful foe? What if they arrived at Stewart, only to find that the Gray Death Legion's evil reputation had preceded them, resulting in capture of the Invidiousand its crew being taken prisoner? What would happen if Grayson brought down the ceiling while trying to penetrate the Star League cache? And what would be their signal? Though Ricol was willing to offer the Legion a ride off Helm, one way or the other, they needed a signal so that Ricol would not risk more than two DropShips for the Legion's rescue, should the cache be destroyed. The most complex pla

Ricol had no 'Mechs on Helm as yet, but he did have an infantry company numbering ninety men, plus a lance of Galleon tanks. Ricol was certain that this relatively small force could debark by dark from the Alpha,and make its way past the spaceport perimeter without exciting undue comment. The spaceport was alive with Marik troops and vehicles; a few more, passing unobtrusively in the dark and would have a good chance of leaving Helmdown and moving quickly toward the east. By itself, this force would be no match for the DropShip's weapons, but after Grayson studied the orbital recon maps that Ricol had brought along, he was able to propose a plan. It was a difficult and dangerous one, but offered the Legion its best hope of recovering the DropShips, the 'Mechs and equipment aboard them, and their fifty comrades still held prisoner there.

It was already three hours past sundown by the time Grayson and King left Helmdown. Their parting with Ricol had been abrupt to the point of rudeness, if only because the plan to recover the DropShips required perfect timing, and that timing was already endangered by the lateness of the hour. The Legion column would be an hour on the road already, and it would take at least three hours more to catch up with them.

Grayson and King were almost two kilometers south of town when the night lit up above them. They pulled their skimmer off the road to watch as sun-brilliant flares of light descended, one at a time, clearing to sky in columns of flame and thunder.

The DropShips of Lord Garth's fleet were landing.

24

For Lori, the day had been charged with a choking grief mingled with barely restrained fear. She knew with a certainty that transcended the laws of physics that Grayson would not return at the appointed hour.

She had tried to brace herself for his failure to show long before it was time for the regiment to leave. Even as she'd watched Grayson and King speeding toward the northwest hours before, she had told herself they might be late returning. Then again, many times during the preparations to break camp, she reminded herself of how many things could go wrong. Finally, when it came time for her to give the orders to board 'Mechs and load the column's civilians aboard the odd assembly of armored vehicles and cargo transports, she told herself not to panic. King had produced those travel papers he claimed to have picked up from his "contact" on his previous visit to Helmdown. The fact of those papers and his refusal to reveal who those contacts were had made Lori deeply suspicious of the man. She had noted, too, an undefined but quite noticeable difference in the relationship between Grayson and his senior Tech. Somethinghad changed between those two. What?

As Helm's orange sun set behind the low ridges to the west, Lori watched the bustle of activity on Durandel's plain spread out below her from Helmfast's bluff. Lights mounted in the Legion's BattleMechs had helped the loading operations continue as the twilight deepened into night. An eerier, piping wail rose suddenly, sending chills racing up her spine. It was the signal for recall. Their last chance to round up any of Durandel's survivors who might be hiding out in the woods. Patrols had been out all day, searching for survivors, but it appeared that every one of the Legion's surviving warriors and dependents had been recovered.

Grayson! Why did you do this to me!

She checked her chronometer. It had been almost two standard hours since Helm's sun had set. Rising from her overlook, she made her way back to where her Shadow Hawkstood, huge and silent against the night. The Hawkhad been Grayson's ever since he'd taken it on Trellwan. He'd passed it on to Lori after her 20-ton Locusthad been destroyed at Verthandi. She paused, hand on the 'Mech's cold armor, trying to stir some feeling of Grayson's presence, his warmth, but there was nothing beyond the chill of the metal and the noises of Helm's night animals.