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Fire from the enemy forces swept across the flood plain, converging on him and him alone.
* * *
King yelled and threw one hand over his eyes, while the other still clutched the memory core. The Archerfired its right arm laser, the beam lancing past King and into the library building.
The library did not so much explode as burn. The walls softened, folding in one another. Intense heat consumed it, melted it, and weird shadows chased one another across the floors and walls of the caves. King stumbled forward, away from the heat. Around him, the battle had stopped. The appearance of the lone Archerhad been more than sufficient to stun the battling soldiers into motionlessness. One by one, the soldiers on both sides rose to their feet. Weapons clattered to the floor as the Marik soldiers began to assume control of the situation, and the Gray Death mercenaries surrendered.
More figures made their way into the cavern, following the Archer'strail of flattened debris. There were more soldiers, wearing the gray and purple body armor of Marik Guards. There were also ComStar Adepts, six of them in their robes and hoods, walking carefully with their skirts raised above the rubble.
And that could be none other than Rachan. He bore his authority like a cloak, and even in the semidarkness of the cavern, his physical presence was as commanding in its own way as that of the 70-ton Archertowering above him. Though Rachan's eyes were invisible against the brightness behind him and the glare of the searchlight overhead, King felt his gaze upon him. The Precentor raised his arm, and pointed a bony finger at King. "You. You have what I want. Bring it to me."
Somehow, King found his voice. "Why? So you can destroy it?"
Rachan's laughter surprised him. "You ca
King took a step forward, the memory core seeming very heavy in his arms. He stopped again. "You're wrong, Rachan, I do understand Star League knowledge, preserved for three centuries . . . it's priceless, invaluable ..."
"I represent the ComStar Order, my son. The data you hold will be safe with me. Trust me."
"This knowledge could be the deliverance of mankind!"
"Bah! You don't know what you're saying, youngster! Deliverance or damnation, pure knowledge is not as important as the uses to which it is put. Bring that memory core to me!"
"No."
"Soldiers!"
"If your soldiers fire," King warned, "they might hit this!"
"Fool! You don't understand, do you? It doesn't matter to me in the least whether that cylinder you hold is preserved or not. If I can save a copy for ComStar's files, well and good. But my mission here is to destroy that library!"
"Like you destroyed twelve million people at Tiantan?"
"Be quiet!" In the dying light of the fire behind him, King caught a glimpse of Rachan's wild and contorted face. He was breathing heavily, his hands twisted into trembling claws.
King had sensed the sudden and uncomfortable stirring among the Adepts standing behind Rachan. He knew that, like him, they were Technicians. They were trained . . . disciplined. Though he could not see their faces under their cowls, King suspected they must be young . . . and, therefore, idealistic. Was that idealism directed toward an ideal of service to Order or to the race? Or was it a fanaticism twisted around the solitary figure standing in front of them?
King decided to take a chance. He raised his voice so that the Adepts would hear him. "Did you know? Did he tell you? It was Precentor Rachan who pla
“Quiet!”
"We heard it from a Marik Captain!" King went on, barely missing a beat. "He did it so a Marik Duke could legally take this planet away from Grayson Carlyle! Is this the man you follow?"
"Precentor," one of the hooded men said. "What this man says ca
"Fools! All of you!" Rachan's voice was wild now, closer to a scream than to words. He vaulted on top of a pile of rubble close beside him. In the light of the Archer,something flashed in his hand, a small and wicked-looking laser pistol. "What does it matter ... a few worthless lives? They were expendable!You are allexpendable!"
The laser fired wildly, stabbing. Janice Taylor shrieked in pain, falling backward several meters from King. A young, red-haired soldier standing at her side screamed with her, but in rage, not pain. He dropped to the ground, rolled to the left, and came to his feet with a TK assault rifle in his hand. Gunfire erupted from the weapon, spraying wildly toward the Marik soldiers.
Blood gushed from the Precentor's leg as he pitched back off the mound, the laser pistol flying from his hand. Marik soldiers scrambled for cover as the boy with the TK stood in the open, his face twisted with rage as he swept the rubble at the Archer'sfeet with a hail of explosive rounds.
King was already moving, but so was the 'Mech. As the shots rang out, it stepped forward, one hand coming up in ponderous slow motion, its target the red-haired boy with the wildly stuttering rifle. King could hear Janice Taylor's voice, raw with pain. "Nik . . . Nik!It's O.K.! I'm O.K."
King fumbled with one hand under the memory core.
As a senior Tech, he had a MechWarrior's understanding of BattleMechs, of how they were designed and how they were assembled. He could look up against the spotlight on the Archer'sshoulder and make out the curve of the cockpit's armored screen, could see the cluster of stubby snouts just to the right of the insectlike face where an Archer'sIR and sca
His right hand came up from under the memory core, clutching the flare pistol that had been tucked into his belt, and concealed by the core. He took three ru
"Run!" King shouted. "Everybody run!"
The mercenary soldiers were already falling back into the darkness of the cavern. A Marik soldier rose from where he had dropped to the floor, and brought up his rifle. Gunfire crashed in the cavern again. A mercenary returned the fire. Bullets sang off the 'Mech's armor and the partly shattered granite wall.
The red-headed boy named Nik threw his rifle aside, stooping to help the wounded Janice Taylor. Another soldier joined him, and together they helped her to her feet. King dropped the empty flare gun, put his head down, and ran as hard as he could. The Archer'sIR gear—and its pilot's dazzled eyes—would clear in seconds.
It was less than seconds before the three mercenaries had plunged into the sheltering darkness of the tu
Behind him came the roar of gunfire.
* * *
Grayson's Marauderset off alone against the Marik army. Behind him, the BattleMechs under his command stirred or stood still as their pilots watched, dazed by mind-numbing battle exhaustion. It was not mutiny so much as it was the complete breakdown of men and women pushed too hard, and too far.
Then a second 'Mech began to move. McCall's shattered Riflemanstarted forward, wires and twisted strands of myomer sheathing still dangling from the gaping hole where one of its twin-ca