The third man in the room remained seated by the fireplace. Grayson recognized the hawk profile of King Jeverid.
"Thank you for coming, son," said Varney. "We have a proposal to make to you.”
“Yes, sir?"
Adel lowered the drink he'd been sipping. "Carlyle, we'll get right to the point. We want you to organize a 'Mech Lance to be incorporated into the Palace Guard. We want a combat company of ground troops trained in anti-Mech warfare. Can you do it?"
Varney looked sharply at his Guard counterpart. "I believe the idea is for the Lance to be under joint command, in a department of its own, General."
Adel nodded, his expression pained. "Yes, Varney, yes." Then, he turned to Grayson. "Well, Carlyle? What do you say?"
Grayson said nothing at first. With the eyes of all three men on him, he felt he wanted to hide. "Sirs... Majesty... I don't really know what to say. I'm not sure I have the experience to..."
"Ha!" The King's exclamation startled him. "You've got a damn sight more experience than anyone else on this planet... except for those bastards sitting up there in the Castle."
"We need your help, son," Varney added. "We're helpless without trained soldiers and the mobile firepower and armor to back them up."
Jerevid turned to Grayson full face, and his eyes flashed as he spoke. Grayson realized with some surprise that there was more to this king than a dull mind in a frail body. The King spoke with animation. "Varney here tells me you outfought those 'Mechs practically bare-handed, because you knew how they worked, how their drivers would think. That's what we need here."
"But Majesty, what about 'Mechs?"
"What about 'em? We have two, thanks to you. There's the one you captured and another we can repair. And anything more you capture is yours!"
Grayson considered the potential of a 'Mech Lance consisting of two 20-ton 'Mechs. Typical Lances contained a mix of 'Mech weights and types, ranging from 20-tonner lights to the heavies like Shadow Hawksand Marauders.A Locustand a Waspmight last all of 20 seconds in a stand-up fight against a Marauder.With luck, that is.
"Just what is it this 'Mech Lance is supposed to do?"
Adel took another sip from his glass. "The withdrawal of Carlyle's men has left us wide open to bandits like Hendrik." He pursed his lips judiciously. "I'm not going to comment on just what it was your people were trying to pull with that Pact we've heard so much about."
"Then don't," said Jeverid.
"Yes, Majesty. Be that as it may, the Commonwealth garrison is gone, and our enemies are here. We expect them to continue raiding us for supplies and perhaps to send out a call for reinforcements
"You dealt them a terrible blow, Grayson. Our scouts report they only have two serviceable 'Mechs left now, with another damaged and another being refitted in the Castle. Why, with your skill and a pair of 'Mechs of our own, the Guard could cripple those bastards, make it so they'd never send another expedition to Trellwan again. We need a 'Mech unit of our own if we're going to protect ourselves and our sovereignty. Without it..." He shrugged expressively. "We might as well sign ourselvesover to Hendrik. We're helpless."
A Locustand a Waspagainst a Marauderand a Stinger,plus a Shadow Hawk,once the enemy repaired the machine that had been crippled before the attack. That meant a combined combat tonnage of 40 tons against 150. And perhaps against more if the bandits were able to repair that leg-damaged Wasp.One-to-four odds, near enough. What the hell, Grayson thought wryly. All in a day's work... Assuming, of course, that he would be able to find and train someone to pilot the second 'Mech. He could not simply recruit some likely private from the ranks of the Guards and turn him into a MechWarrior. Piloting that much metal required training-honed skills and talent that few possessed and that even fewer could apply.
Something told him these men did not want to hear about stats and specifications, or the problems of recruiting. More emotional protests tumbled forth. "Sir, I'm afraid I'm in way over my head here. Look, I'm 20 standard years old." These people expected the impossible!
"You've piloted 'Mechs before, haven't you?" This from Varney.
"Yes, but I've never had one in combat What happened out there was just luck. And I certainly wouldn't know how to lead a unit." That wasn't exactly accurate, Grayson knew. His training as a MechWarrior included leadership and small unit tactics. If he was to follow in the five-meter stride of his father, he would have to know how to lead men. He had been trained for the role he'd been expected to play in the event his father had been killed. But dammit, things were happening loo fast
Varney said, "Son, we have the statements of the men you led in the battle for the city. When an entire GEV detachment had been cut to pieces, you were the only one there to DO something. You rallied those trooops, and you knocked out a 'Mech. That's not easy, and it wasn'tluck!"
The reality of what these men were saying was gradually penetrating Grayson's consciousness. They wanted HIM to be a 'MechWarrior. More, to build a MechWarrior Lance from scratch and lead it in battle. The protests gibbering in his mind were being outweighed by the single fact that more than half his life had been directed toward a single destiny — the cockpit of a BattleMech. It was an opportunity he was not likely to encounter again. Would neverencounter again if he were unable to buy or beg passage offplanet. Without a 'Mech of his own, his chances of joining a 'Mech unit were virtually nil.
Excitement stirred within him. Perhaps there was something to Mara's conviction that he belonged here. With scant hope of getting off planet for years to come, maybe there was a place for the Victor of Sarghad here on Trellwan after all!
Those one-to-four odds were unattractive, but not totally discouraging. The Locustwould be a start, and with planning and a little luck...
"Tell me more," he told the generals, and the King leaned back in his chair, his old face creased by a satisfied grin.
16
Sarghad's Near Passage came and went. However, the sullen red sun appeared no larger to the eye than it ever did. Trellwan was only a few percent nearer its primary at its closest point than at its farthest, but that few percent was enough to briefly bring the temperature to 40 degrees C. and higher. Within 20 hours, the Firstday storms had begun.
Now that the sun was directly overhead, the air over the Nerge grew warm, then hot. Low-lying air masses from the Grimheld Sea area moved across the desert and exploded skyward in a towering column of hot, moist air. From Sarghad, the column looked like a white pillar lifting beyond the mountains to the west. Its rise was so rapid that the naked eye could perceive its movement second to second across almost 2,000 kilometers.
When the column of hot, wet air hit the subzero air of the stratosphere, clouds billowed out in all directions, blocking the sun and turning the green sky white, then grey, then roiling blue-black. It was then that the hail and rain and lightning began.