Twice he became lost, straightening out only when he realized he had reached the Hub. There were the Palace Gardens, the domes of the Palace showing above spreading, cobalt shrubs alive with short-lived flowers. If he could just reach Mara, every problem would be solved! But the green-coated soldiers still paraded inside the main gate, and the streets were thick with Palace Guards and the brown uniforms of the Militia. If he were to try scaling the three-meter fence, they would cut him down before he made it to the top.
No, the Third Street of the Merchants was back THAT way. He would try to find Mara later.
* * * *
Singh stood just inside the gaping Repair Bay doors. As he watched the troops fall into formation, thunder boomed incessantly from the mountains above the Castle. He had four full companies, about 300 men under his direct command, as well as five 'Mechs. Two companies manned the perimeter at the spaceport. The remaining two were here, weapons and body armor red-gilt in the warming sun, their ground effect transports idling in dusty rows nearby.
Behind the ranks of faceless, armor-masked troops towered the five 'Mechs of the battalion. Lieutenant Vallendel's Marauderwas the lead BattleMech, of course, and would head up the actual fighting, but he was in overall command.
He, Harimandir Singh, in command of a five-'Mech Lance! It was a singular honor that the Duke had bestowed on him. Covert operations such as Code Dragon were too sensitive, too delicate to be given into the hands of a relatively junior MechWarrior like Vallendel. It made Singh proud that the Duke had entrusted this fighting force into his care, that he had placed Code Dragon under his command until it was time for the Duke to make his own appearance. Singh savored the heady rush of power.
Four smaller 'Mechs flanked the Marauder:a Stinger,a Locust,and the pair of Waspscaptured during the battle with Carlyle's Lance. Singh was less certain of their pilots than he was of Vallendel. The Lieutenant was one of the Duke's experienced warriors, hand-picked for this mission, but three of the pilots of the four 20-tonners were green, and three were mercenaries picked up on Sigurd in Hendrik's confederacy. Those three didn't know the full extent of the Plan, of course. Nor did they realize that they would die soon, sacrificed to the Plan once the Duke arrived to take charge.
Sergeant Mendoza, the Stinger'spilot, was the only one with any experience, having spent a good many years piloting 'Mechs in the service of the Duke. That one would go down fighting when the time came. Sing's dark eyes narrowed at the thought. It might be best to end his career with an assassin's blade first, to prevent unnecessary complications. That would be a pity, but in this game of stroke and counterstroke, secrecy was so essential that even Vallendel, even Singh himself, might be sacrificed to preserve it If the Commonwealth detected even a hint of Code Dragon, the mission would fail. Singh knew that failure was one option the Duke never tolerated.
The Waspswere piloted by Sigurdian mercenaries, privates Enzelman and Fitzhugh, and the Locustby a Corporal Kalmar. All three were painfully inexperienced, fresh from their apprenticeships on one of Hendrik’s worlds, but they seemed competent enough. They'd joined the unit on Sigurd just before the expedition had left to rendezvous with the Mailai freighter.
It was not, perhaps, the most skillful or best trained of 'Mech lances, but it would be more than adequate against the pathetic popinjays defending Sarghad. That single skirmish on the outskirts of the town earlier had proven that. Imagine, armored personnel carriers piled high with troopers, driving straight up to the guns of a battle-hungry Marauder!It had been a slaughter, and the city's defenders would be thoroughly demoralized by now. What's more, Vallendel had brought back prisoners, from whom Singh had learned the precise location of the Royal Family's battle shelters under the Palace.
His forces had only just returned from Sarghad, and he could see that the men were tired, then- formation less than rigidly perfect Whether the troops were tired or not, Singh intended to continue to push the indigs with all he had, as hard as he could. They would not know a moment's respite until the Plan's second phase.
Parts of the city were still sending up twisting coils of black smoke where fires raged among those barbarian shacks and hovels. Singh knew it was time to strike again, before the indigs could recover from the first raid so recendy over.
It was a shame, perhaps, that the Shadow Hawk, thathad been put out of action to critically weaken the Castle's defense was not yet repaired. What an armored force THAT would be. Four lights led by a Hawkand a Marauderteam! Well, no matter. The captured Hawkwould be repaired by the time Duke Ricol arrived. In the meantime, the force Singh had would be more than adequate against the Sarghad rabble.
He raised his hands, shouting above the distant rumble from the mountain rift. "Men! Soldiers in the service of the Red Duke! This is the climax to our part of the Grand Plan!" Of all the troops before him, only Lieutenant Vallendel knew the plan's details, of course, but all could share in the excitement and pride of playing their part in a great scheme.
"Word has been dispatched to our Lord, notifying him of the successful completion of the first phase. When he arrives to begin the second phase, our part in this glorious project will be completed... nobly and honorably so.
"For now, we have this world at our feet!" I know you are hot and tired, that you have been fighting hard, but now is the time to strike again, without mercy!" Singh gestured toward the city sprawled on the plain below the Castle, helpless and inviting in the bloody sunlight.
"Lieutenant Vallendel and Sergeant Mendoza will lead the main ground forces! Their mission is to engage and obliterate the enemy ground defenses wherever they may be found. Our three Sigurdian allies, meanwhile, will attack designated targets within the Sarghad palace itself!"
He paused, eyes narrowed. It was a calculated risk, of course, assigning the attack on the palace to three youngsters... outsiders, at that. But the important part of the operation was to destroy the local defenses, and it didn't really matter whether they got through to the Royal Family or not. At worst, an attack on the palace would create a useful diversion and spread panic and hopelessness among the defenders. At best, Code Dragon's timetable might be advanced by several days. He had weighed the dangers and possible advantages, and decided to take the gamble.
"You three are to attack Sarghad, destroy local Militia and Guard forces where you find them, enter the Palace, and take the Royal Family hostage. With Jeverid and his advisors as our prisoners, the rabble will surrender to us, and we will hand them over to the Duke when he arrives, a neatly wrapped present, tied up in diamond monfilament!"
The obligatory cheer went up at this obvious place for cheering, making up in volume what it lacked in spontaneity. Singh gestured again, this time toward the rows of pikes erected along the Castle parade ground outside the Repair Bay doors. The round, brown-encrusted objects impaled on the tip of each pike were already shrivelled in the dry, sand blasting air of this world. Bared teeth gleamed below empty, staring eye sockets.
"Soldiers! Behold your enemies! So will fare all those stand against us! So will fare the enemies of the Duke! Hail, Duke Ricol! Hail, victory!"