The Price of Glory

Grayson clicked open a cha

Still the mercenary BattleMechs held their fire. The Waspwas across now, the Shadow Hawkand Archerclose behind. The Thunderboltand Wolverinewere in midstream, the Warhammerstill on the far bank. Armored hovercraft were moving farther up the valley. Those could be trouble, Grayson thought, for they could speed straight across the river at any point without slowing. The timing was critical now. If there were enough of them . . .

Grayson watched the surface of the water. The Thunderboltstopped, then canted forward, as though examining the water as well. There was a rainbow slickness to its surface, as though something oily were coating the water.

The 'Mechs in midstream suddenly thrashed about, churning at the water with their arms. "Fire!" Grayson shouted, as laser and particle beams instantaneously lanced across from the waiting mercenary machines. Meanwhile, the troops concealed under the overhanging rock had emptied twelve 50-liter drums of CSF onto the surface of the river.

CSF, which stood for "Concentrated Synthetic Fuel," was the generic nomenclature for any of a variety of fuels. With far greater explosive potential than gasoline, and with a much higher burning temperature, several CSFs formed the basic combustible component of inferno warheads and the high-temperature jet in flamers.

Laser fire flicked across the water, and the fuel flashed into flame. The resulting fireball that rose from the river's surface was sun-bright, rimmed with orange and shot through with swirling, stabbing vortices of black. The surface of the river vanished in a literal sea of flame.

The Gray Death 'Mechs approached at a slow walk in line abreast, firing as they came. The enemy Wasp, Shadow Hawk,and Archerstood their ground, inferno at their backs, pouring fire into the oncoming mercenary line. Moments later, the Wolverinerose from the flames, fire still clinging to its legs, but its autoca

Of the Thunderbolt,there was no sign.

The trap had worked well, but now came the hard part. Grayson had hoped to trap a substantial portion of the enemy force on his side of the river, cutting it off from armored forces and at least one or two of their heavier 'Mechs. He had accomplished precisely that, but the four 'Mechs they now faced were capable of putting up a very tough fight, indeed. It was vital they they destroy as many as possible here, before the final confrontation. Grayson picked up the pace and closed in, lasers and PPCs blazing.

32

Duke Ricol's fleet of six DropShips landed late in the afternoon, descending out of a gray and drizzly sky. The Alpha,the DropShip Ricol had grounded at Helmdown, had lifted off from the port still disguised as a merchanter, then shifted course in time to join Colonel Addison's fleet on the final leg of its passage to the Vermillion Plains. Grayson was there to meet him, as was Captain Use Martinez.

"You can't trust the man," Use was shouting as Ricol stepped down the ramp onto the muddy, rain-sodden ground. "I heard the entire story from MechWarrior Kent! The Kurita bastard wasn't at their rendezvous. He wanted the raid to free us to fail ..."

"And would you care to hear my side of it, Miss?" Ricol said archly. He was dressed in habitual reds trimmed with black and gold at cuffs and collar. A laser pistol and power pack hung from his belt.

Grayson gave a shallow, stiff bow, that was little more than a nod. "So just what isyour side of things, Your Grace?" Could the man be trusted, or was this yet another plot within a plot within plot?

"Duke Garth landed before I could even return to the Alpha,"Ricol said, spreading his hand open for emphasis. "Actually, I thought at the time that the confusion would help us, but I was wrong. When we arrived at the port, there was a full platoon guarding each gate, and BattleMechs everywhere. An order had been posted, practically closing down the city. No movement in or out." He looked at Grayson. "You were lucky, my friend, to get away when you did.

"At any rate, I had no radio and could not communicate with my ship. I returned to Deirdre's to decide on what to do. I considered using the starport transmitter facility to contact the Alpha... or you ... or your troops, but thought better of it when I realized that the starport communications facility on Helm is staffed by ComStar Adepts—the same ones who run the planet's HPG.

"Martial law was in effect in Helmdown and around the starport until late yesterday evening, until after yet another Marik DropShip grounded. I watched through binoculars from Gresshaven. That one had a general aboard . . . Kleider, I believe. At dawn this morning, the curfew was lifted and I was able to return to the Alpha.By that time, the only thing left was for me to come here."

Use turned to face Grayson, her dark eyes blazing. "You're going to believe that?"

"Evidently you'renot, Captain." Ricol smiled. "I suppose you could check with someone in the city to corroborate my story . . . but then, that is rather out of the way now, isn't it?"

"Conveniently for you."

"Enough," Grayson broke in. "Captain Martinez, please be so good as to prepare the Phobosfor lift-off. Coordinate the launch checklist with Lieutenant Thurston."

Use looked at him for a long, deadly moment. "Yessir," she said at last, then whirled, and stalked off toward her ship.

Grayson considered the Red Duke. If he had indeed attempted to betray them, if he was lying about his failure to muster his force for the rendezvous, Grayson was under absolutely no obligation to follow through with his own end of their bargain. True, Ricol's DropShips outnumbered Grayson's on the Vermillion Plain, but Ricol had no BattleMechs at all, and Grayson did. Assuming that something could be done to further delay the approaching Marik forces, Grayson would be within his rights to load what he could of the Star League treasure aboard his own ships and depart, leaving Ricol to negotiate with Langsdorf and Rachan. Alternatively, Grayson could keep the League cache out of Rachan's and Garth's hands by arranging to take the library records on board, leaving the Star League tomb forever sealed behind him.

There was little Ricol could do about it, either, short of attacking Grayson. The Gray Death commander was reasonably certain that the Red Duke would not risk damage to any of his DropShips so far from the borders of Kurita space.

"Well, Your Grace, do I trust you?"

Ricol watched Grayson for a long moment. "Anything I say could be . . . prejudicial, Colonel. Let's say ... I am here to offer my services. If you want to avail yourself of them, the decision is yours. If you see fit to carry out your part of our agreement, that decision, too, is yours. And as for trustingme . . . well, Grayson Death Carlyle . . . even Iwouldn't go that far!"

Grayson watched Ricol for a moment more, then turned, pointing up the side of the mountain above them. "We found the cache, Your Grace, up there, where you see the Archerstanding guard. There are fusion-driven prime movers in there, more than enough to load whatever you can carry aboard your ships. Munitions, spare parts, electronics, infantry weapons, CSF canisters, infernos, even Star League-issue uniforms. If you set your people to work immediately, I may be able to buy you enough time to get loaded."

Ricol's brows lowered. "The situation is that critical?"