Stefan had been recruited by one of Singh's agents in Viscount Vogel's staff shortly after the Commonwealth representative had arrived at the Castle. The Young Trell was proud and ambitious, and bridled under the subtleties of custom and prejudice that separated the offworlder starmen from the "indigs", the locals. That agent had played on both Stefan's pride and his greed. Stefan now had more money in one of Sarghad's banks than he'd ever seen in his life, and had been promised even larger rewards for continued loyalty in service to the Red Duke.
Stefan swallowed hard. "I was at the celebration, Lord. The King gave him a medal — his second, I believe — and made a speech. He called Carlyle's son the Deliverer of Sarghad."'
Singh's eyes flashed, sharp and cold. "He didn't see you?"
"No, Lord. I was in the back of the room. The light on the stage was bright. He couldn't have seen me, not in that crowd. I think everyone in Sarghad must have been there."
"That's good. Otherwise he might recognize you from our assault on the Castle."
"Yes, Lord."
"Carlyle will have to die, of course. The question is what to do with this new unit he's forming. Singh looked thoughtful. "They have a full Lance now. Four 'Mechs."
"Only three, Lord. I overheard two astechs talking at the reception. I gather that one of the Waspscannot be repaired, and they're using it for salvaged parts."
"Three 'Mechs or four, it cannot matter. Light 'Mechs are no match for a Marauderand a Shadow Hawk."He flipped Grayson's photograph aside. "Carlyle knows he cannot win. Perhaps he will try something desperate." Singh smiled to himself. "Now, thatwould be... pleasant."
"You will attack, then, Lord?" Singh's relaxed and talkative mood made Stefan more bold.
"Eh? Not while they remain in that city. Those narrow streets and alleys are deathtraps for 'Mechs. No, we will remain here, and wait."
"But Lord, how will you bring them out to fight?"
"We won't need to. They cannot attack us here in the Castle, and very soon we will no longer need to attack them."
"I don't understand, Lord."
"And it is not desirable that you do. If you knew the Plan, I would kill you now."
Stefan paled, and remained silent.
"I want you to return to Sarghad. You've been my eyes and ears there, Stefan. Now you will be my hand." Singh smiled at Stefan in his icy fashion, and the young Trell found the expression horrifying.
* * * *
Sarghad's hospital complex lay mosdy below ground in the southern part of the city. Its ground level was domed-over against Trellwan's extremes of climate, but an open patient lounge and exercise area was bathed in ruddy light through wall transparencies during the day. Trell was westering. The spaceport battle was a standard week in the past
Captain Renfred Tor shook Grayson's hand.
"I take it you didn't get the job you were looking for," Grayson said.
"They refused rather bluntly, I must say." Tor was well on the way to recovery, though he remained in a wheelchair while tissue grafts healed on his toes. He had been carried to the transporter by another escaping prisoner when his frostbitten feet had given out The bruises on Tor's face had healed, but there was still a haunted look to the man, some secret honor that he would not discusss.
"Well, things have changed in Sarghad. I've got a job for you, if you want it."
Tor eyed Grayson's dress greens with exaggerated distaste. "Your choice of tailors seems to have changed for the worse. You're a soldier now?"
Grayson shrugged. "They haven't signed me up formally, but yeah, I guess I am. We've been putting together a 'Mech unit. We're listed as a regiment on the staff command's T.O-., but that's wishful thinking so far. One working 'Mech, some captures, and three companies of eager but very raw recruits. We could use you."
The freighter pilot looked thoughtful. "Doing what? I'm not a military man."
Grayson walked to the wall transparency and gazed out at the frost glittering on the sand outside, which was red in Trell's westering light.
"Helping us get a ship, for one thing. Piloting us to Tharkad for another."
Tor's eyebrows climbed his forehead. "Tharkad?"
"Well, maybe to a Commonwealth base, first. Drune II is a possibility. It's only about 90 light years in." Grayson turned suddenly to face Tor. "We've beaten the pirates a couple of times, but we can't expect that to continue. What we need to do is get Commonwealth forces back here to help fight them. Carlyle's Commandos... what's left of them... probably went to Tharkad. Maybe we could join up with them."
"If they're still in commission," Tor said gently. "With no 'Mechs to their name, and precious little equipment, where could they go?"
"The Commonwealth has to know what's happening here," Grayson continued, stubbornly ignoring what Tor had said. "They could dispatch a 'Mech regiment and mop those pirates right off Mount Gayal."
"From what I've heard, your Commonwealth was more than happy to turn this cinder over to Hendrik in the first place. Why should they bother?" Tor stirred in the wheelchair, "but that's really all beside the point because you need a ship before you need a ship's captain."
"Exacdy! And that'swhy I need you. Your DropShip is still at the port. Your freighter must still be parked at the jump point If we could capture the DropShip, pack it with soldiers..."
"And have them all flamed by the Invidious'meteor defenses the moment they get within 500 klicks of her. Lad, I don't think you know what you're up against."
Grayson felt discouraged, but rallied with an effort of will. It was too early yet to know what might work and what would not. "But you'll help us? When you get up and around? I'll make you my advisor, put you on my'staff."
Tor sighed. "There's no stopping you, I see." Then he grinned. "I always did love a good fight, youngster, and I sure as hell don't know how I'm going to pay for my room and board here!" Grayson knew the government had already promised to pay the hospitalization expenses of those the Lancers had rescued from the spaceport But Tor was an outsider in the same curious limbo as Grayson, and belonged nowhere on Trellwan. With a shrug, Tor added, "Besides, you need someone to keep you out of trouble."
It was not so easy to convince Claydon, however. He had been among the 180-odd civilians and soldiers freed during the spaceport raid. Grayson saw him as the group disembarked at the Militia HQ, and had run up to him with a shout and a grin. But his greeting was rebuffed.' "I should be glad to see you?" The Trell asked bitterly. "After what happened to my home... to Father?"
"I — I'm sorry, Claydon." What could Grayson possibly say to bridge that rift? "Look... it wasn't my fault!"
"Not your fault?" Claydon's pale face flushed. "Listen, young Lord, you have a marvelous faculty for using people, for riding them like 'Mechs until they break down or you get where you're going. I'll have no more of it"
"Claydon, we need you!" With another Tech of Claydon's qualifications, the technical platoon would have half a chance to get the captured 'Mechs in fighting order. But, gods of the old League, the anger that was in him!
"But I don't need you! Leave me alone." Claydon had turned on his heel, leaving Grayson standing by the massive wheel of the transporter.
He mused about Claydon as he made his way north through Sarghad's streets toward Mara's apartment. He'd decided to walk despite the cold because he needed the time to do some thinking. Anyway, his cold-weather gear kept him warm enough. The streets were filled with the usual merchants, civilians, and soldiers going about their business, though there were no crowds this far from the merchants' quarter.
Grayson had not seen Mara in more periods than he could count, and schedule or no schedule, he'd promised her that during his next rest period they would get, in her words, reacquainted. Somehow he could not keep his mind on Mara, though, because something Claydon had said continued to echo in his mind. Use people? Of course he used people! As Lance Commander he had to use them daily to get anything done, trading favors for favors, bolstering egos to get work done, pulling strings on juniors and superiors alike. And the job HAD to be done.