Again the cheers, this time with nervous overtones. Everyone in the ranks knew that the third impaled head from the right belonged to Sergeant Proller of Company C. He'd been in charge of securing the passageway in the Castle leading from Central Control to the Vehicle Bay. Somehow, he'd become lost. By the time his squad had reached their objective, the surviving defenders had secured a number of air cushion transports and escaped toward their perimeter at the spaceport.
It was time. At Lord Singh's shouted command, the ranks of men filed into their transports, which rose on dust-churning cushions of air and drifted with shrill keening down the slopes toward the city. Ahead of them, the five 'Mechs strode with lumbering, deadly purpose.
* * * *
Grayson became aware of the attack as the mournful ululation of a siren rose above crowds of people gone suddenly motionless. Then came the dull whump of distant explosions, and the street crowds began to scatter and run in all directions, shrieking and wailing.
Another attack? Only a few hours had passed the last one — barely time for the raiders to reach the Castle and return!
He stepped to the side of the street as green and gold-clad Guards clattered past at double time, their weapons held at port arms and their faces terribly young beneath visored, gold-edged helmets. Grayson could tell by the sound of the explosions that those were SRMs — short-range missiles — probably 'Mech-launched. What chance did these boys have against BattleMechs?
There was a sharp hiss overhead, an instant's glimpse of a white contrail arowing from the sky, and the iron fence by the Palace grounds across the street vanished in black earth and hurtling chunks of ferrocrete. Grayson fell on his face and clutched at the pavement, as falling debris rattled and bounced around him. When he looked up, the street was littered with twisted bits of iron and rubble, and a steaming crater interrupted the curve of the fence.
He considered the hole for a moment. My way in, he thought, and then thought again. Mara would be on her way to a shelter by now. He had no idea where she would be, and so wandering around the Palace grounds during a battle would only get him shot.
The Waspemerged from a hub street several hundred meters from Grayson's position. It was a sleek and elegant-looking machine, manlike in its movements and painted blue-white with black and yellow trim. Four antennae spiked back from its head like pricked ears, two on either side, giving it the look of an alert hunting animal. That head was scanning now, sweeping up and down the street. BattleMechs had nothing so crude or vulnerable as windows in their cockpits, of course, but the recessed scanner strip under the protective brow overhang gave the head the look of a visored space helmet. Its weapons included an SRM pack tucked into the hip of its left leg, and a medium laser that the 'Mech swung in its right hand with deceptive, disturbing ease.
Waspswere most frequently used as 'Mech unit scouts. They were fast, relatively light-armed and armored, and extremely maneuverable. With the fusion-heated jump jets tucked into legs and angular back-mounted packs, they could leap up to 180 meters — six times their own length — firing down on ground targets from the air or gaining a clear view of the surrounding terrain.
Even lying flat on his belly, Grayson recognized the machine. Though an eye had been painted over the scratched-out clenched-fist insignia on the front of the left leg, 'Mechs — especially the much-painted and battle-worn ones — were as unique as individual humans. This was a Carlyle's Commandos Wasp,captured during the battle that had stranded Grayson on Trellwan. His trained eye searched for new damage, but detected none. It was possible that Mendelson had abandoned the machine during the evacuation, rather than lost it in battle.
Who was piloting it now, Grayson wondered? It might be a rookie, an apprentice next in line for a newly acquired BattleMech. Or, it could just as easily be a battle-experienced Mech Warrior who had lost his own 'Mech in combat. Whoever it was seemed to be handling the machine well enough. The movements were smooth, and the rapidly striding walk was natural and confident.
The Waspwas bearing down on him. Grayson forced himself to remain where he was, unmoving. Of all the panicked people now fleeing the invading 'Mechs, he alone had actually piloted one, and knew what it must look like to the warrior inside the cramped confinement of that tiny head. A person lying unmoving on the pavement would go unnoticed, appearing as nothing more than a stationary blur of heat-color on the IR scan. Only if he moved, or looked as though he were readying a weapon would the lightning fall...
The ferrocrete danced and jittered under him.Waspsweighed only 20 tons, the lightest class of 'Mechs, but the alternating pedal pressure of 20 striding tons slammed the ground like vast pile drivers. Those long-extinct giants of old Earth known as elephants weighed only a third what a Waspdid, and this present-day monster bore that weight on two legs.
The massive, inverted Y of a flanged foot swung up, descended, booming. The creaks and metal-grating protests of flanges and carballoy joints piped and squeaked in the dust-filled air as the foot rose again, and the monster's shadow swept across and past Grayson's cowering form.
When he looked up, a flat but crumple-textured grey rectangle on the pavement nearby caught his attention. It took him a moment to recognize the heavy steel toolbox he'd taken from the hovercraft, flattened by the monster's tread. A scattering of tools had been driven into the tough surface of the ferrocrete, and were not like surreal decorations in the pavement. That had been close, he thought Another meter, and...
Grayson dared to lift his head to look up... up... and up. The monster stood in the street ten meters away, its back toward him as it surveyed the steaming crater and the shredded fence. From its altitude, Grayson guessed the pilot must be reporting to other 'Mechs or troops. He could fool a passing 'Mech by playing dead, but a platoon of enemy troops was another matter. Grayson looked around, eyes wild, desperate for a hiding place. Doors lined the buildings facing the street, all closed, probably bolted. As if a deadbolt could exclude a BattleMech that had decided it wanted to enter!
The 'Mech was moving again, striding rapidly toward the fence, and then straight into its iron bars. Grayson heard a cracking like the sound of gunshots as the iron gave way. For an instant, the monster stood entangled by the barrier almost hip-high to it. Then it kicked, splintering concrete foundations. The entire length of fencing twisted free and collapsed. The Waspstrode into the Palace Garden, brushing aside flowering shrubs and trees with even greater ease. Then it stopped, pivotted, and brought the long, black tube of its laser cannon to bear on some unseen target to Grayson's right. The flash of the laser discharge was searing blue, intolerably bright. When his eyes could see through the dancing haze of spots before him again, the 'Mech was moving further up the hill toward the Palace.
Grayson's head snapped around, following the 'Mech's progress. It looked as though one phase of the attackers' plan had fallen into place. That first attack earlier must have been a probing of the city defenses, organized so as to take plenty of prisoners. Grayson knew that any 'Mech operation in a hostile city required plenty of intelligence. Those prisoners would have been questioned, and at least some would have known the interior layout of the Palace. If the 'Mechs were attacking the Palace, Grayson reasoned, they must plan to capture or kill the Royal Family and various members of the government.
Mara! She would be there by now. What would happen to her? And what could he do? Unarmed, alone, the only way he could slow a 'Mech was if the machine happened to slip as it pulped his body underfoot Grayson didn't plan on trying that tactical maneuver anytime soon.