Giving a last, despairing tug, he felt the strap pull free from the clenched, dead fingers, as he tumbled over backward with the satchel clutched to his chest. The 'Mech's laser fired, washing white heat and sharp odor across Grayson as he rolled across the ferrocrete to cover. The crate where he had been hiding burst into flames. In its light Grayson was up and running, running toward the massive armored feet of the Shadow Hawk.
The 'Mech shifted, tracking him. He dodged right, then left, his hand reaching into the satchel and pulling out one of the two-kilo packets. Slinging the satchel, he used his free hand to set the timer for five seconds and flung it — not at the monster, but onto the ferrocrete between himself and the BattleMech's foot
Then he was running again, weaving toward the metal ladder below the control booth. The explosion at his back an instant later picked him up and flung him toward the booth, but then dumped him flat on his face with blood smearing his arms, and a hideous, dizzying ring in his ears. The 'Mech paused, its heat and light sensors momentarily blinded by the explosion's flash. Grayson used the delay to arm two more packets and then hurl them at the monster's head. The explosions did scant damage, but they kept the 'Mech's pilot blinded for precious seconds. Grayson mounted the ladder and bounded up the rattling steps three at a time.
As another explosion sounded from below, the ladder pitched wildly. He turned, his gloved hands gripping the steps alongside his head. Below, a solitary figure waved, then hurled another packet that exploded at the Shadow Hawksfeet.
"Go on, Lieutenant!" The figure shouted, as the explosion's roar subsided. "We'll keep him busy!"
Grayson recognized Larressen's voice. Lurching to the top of the ladder, he shouldered aside the half-open door. Waiting there was a bearded man in green fatigues, a TK assault rifle in his hands.
Grayson's own machine pistol was gone, lost somewhere on the floor of the Bay.
There was another explosion below, and the Shadow Hawktwisted, scraping against the metal ladder with a high-pitched screech of metal. The bearded soldier's eyes left Grayson's for a half-instant, giving him the chance to swing the canvas bag into the man's face. He threw his body after it, grappling for the man's gun, thrusting him back. In the struggle, the two knocked over a chair and smashed into the monitor console. When Grayson brought his knee up sharply, the soldier grunted and loosened his grip. Grayson smashed the butt of the TK across the side of the man's skull.
Then he stabbed at the flat white button that would open the Bay doors. He stood there, holding the circuit open as the interlocking teeth of the doors pulled apart, spilling light into the outer darkness. Then he grabbed the soldier's TK and the canvas satchel and ran through the door of the booth.
The 'Mech was there, its head just two meters below Grayson's feet, the laser on its arm swinging up to demolish the control booth. There was nothing Grayson could do but jump. He landed on the Hawk'sshoulder with a clattering scramble, and clung to the stub of a field guide antennae projecting from the side of its head. The ‘Mech turned clumsily, its right hand lifting to swat him like a gnat. Grayson twisted behind the 'Mech's head, riding the wire-tangled scar where the autocannon and backpack life support system should have been, safely beyond the machine's reach.
He fumbled with the satchel. The ‘Mech turned again, crashing into the control booth ladder and through to the stone wall beyond. The concussion jarred Grayson severely, tearing at his hand. He managed to keep his grip, but the TK went spinning off wildly. His free hand closed on the last remaining packet of explosive. He clamped it to the side of the monster's head, and set the timer for ten seconds. The machine smashed against the wall again, rolling, trying to crush Grayson between the Bay wall and the 'Mech's own 55-ton bulk.
Grayson found hand holds — tack-welded grips along the Shadow Hawk'sback used for service access — and climbed down the monster's flank toward the ground. When the 'Mech crashed into the wall again, Grayson was shaken loose. He fell the last five meters and landed with a crash among the crumbled ruins of the control booth ladder.
Grayson's right leg felt like it had taken a blow from a sledge hammer, and his head was throbbing. He blinked open his eyes, saw the 'Mech staggering above him wreathed in smoke... falling... Then, rough hands dug under his armpits and hauled him from the wreckage of the ladder. The 'Mech's fall was a storm of crash upon crash, and black smoke poured from an ugly scar across its head.
For one wild moment, Grayson exulted. I killed it! Exultation faded fast as the 'Mech rolled, pulled its arms under its body, and hauled itself partly upright The pilot was obviously stunned, possibly hurt, but the blast had not pierced that tough armor. Cold air hit at Grayson's face and at an arm exposed by a tear in his jacket sleeve, as his rescuer dragged him through the open door of the Bay and onto the parade ground. Other dark shapes scattered through the night.
Somehow, Grayson managed to click on the tacradio at his throat. "Evade and escape! Rendezvous when you can back at the Arsenal! Quickly!" Then the night lit up with fire and death as gunners on the Castle's flanks opened fire with tracers and turret-mounted lasers, sweeping death and horror across the parade ground.
"Let's get out of here, Larressen..."
"Larressen's had it Lieutenant."
Only then did Grayson look at his rescuer. For some reason he'd assumed it was Larressen, but it was the blackened face of a private from the demo team that stared at him with concern. What was the name? Greer, that was it He was one of the new 'Mech pilot recruits..
"That... that thing stepped on him," Greer was saying haltingly, "like he was an insect"
"Let's go. We'll even the score later." Even with the pain in his leg, Grayson found he could run with a free-swinging limp. With a party of four other survivors, he made his way down the mountain.
22
General Adel flung the printouts down on his desk, and nailed Grayson with a hard look. "Twenty-eight dead or missing," he said. "Twenty-eight out of fifty. This is not what we've come to expect of your unit here at the Palace, you know. Well? What do you have to say about it, Lieutenant?"
"It... it was a trap, General."
"Indeed?"
"They had that Shadow Hawkrigged to look like it was under repair. They must've had the pilot stuffed in the cockpit, flat on his back for hours just to..."
"I am not interested in the Shadow Hawkpilot's comfort, Lieutenant! I am interested in what I'm going to put into the report I must submit to His Majesty."
"Yes, sir."
"This does not bode well for the First Lancers, you understand. I know that the Royal Guard, in, particular has gone out of its way to provide your unit with weapons and equipment already in short supply. Critics will point out that this effort was wasted, thrown away to no purpose."
"But General! You..."
"Silence!"
Grayson remained rigidly at attention, clamping down on the emotions boiling within him. This was unfair! He had had nothing but trouble getting requisitions through the Guard supply bureaucracy, and now...