They dressed quickly, and were pulling on boots and jackets when the pounding on the door began. "This way," Lori said. Slipping through the glass door on the other side of the apartment, they passed into the enclosed patio behind the building, and made their way rapidly across the street toward the Lancers' HQ.
There was sporadic and nagging gunfire in front of the old Militia armory, but no sign of a major assault. Troops, both Militia and Guards, were moving through streets already clogged with panicking civilians, and there seemed to be no organization to either group's movements at all.
Captain Tor met Lori and Garik at the door to the armory, an MP-20 in his hand. Behind him was Sergeant Ramage, coatless and carrying a TK. Ramage was shivering with cold.
"Lori!" Tor exclaimed "You're safe!"
Even Ramage looked relieved. While not outwardly opposing Lori's position in the unit, Sergeant Ramage had remained carefully neutral toward her. He grinned at Lori now, and said, "We were about to come for you. We'd heard the Guards had been sent to get you."
"But how?"
Ramage jerked his head toward the armory HQ. "We've got the Locustcommand net radio tuned into their operations frequency. It's a general rising by the Guards. Minister Stannic has proclaimed himself King, and no one knows what's happened to Jeverid. The trouble began when Guard units began disarming the Militia."
"What about the Lancers?"
"The order came down about an hour ago. We're to stand down and wait for Captain Nolem to take charge of us. Seems we're being transferred to the Dracos."
"The Dracos!"
"Lori," Tor said, worry creasing his face. "There's worse. They've got the Lieutenant. We intercepted a report that he was being taken to Guards HQ across from the Palace."
No matter what mixture of hurt and anger she was feeling toward Grayson, she certainly wouldn't stand by while the Guards marched him off to their cells. It was all too likely that Grayson Death Carlyle would never reappear once they got him inside that HQ.
She looked up at Tor. "Ren... is the Locustready?"
"We warmed her up when we started eavesdropping. Why?"
"Listen, get in touch with as many of our people as you can." Then she gave rapid-fire instructions to Ramage and Tor. The unit had to be rallied, the Stingerand Wasppowered up and taken out of the city. She wasn't sure yet where they would go. Perhaps into the mountains. Damn, she thought, if only Grayson were here. He knew this land, knew the terrain and where they might be able to hide. One thing was certain, however. They couldn't stay where they were.
"Sergeant, Captain Tor... I'm counting on you. Get everyone you can back here to the HQ, set up a perimeter, and hold it. Send out all the hovercraft we've got to get our people. The city is going to be up for grabs for hours yet, so you ought to be able to get through. Don't fight with the Guard. Just try to avoid them. And call Corporal Yee. Have him assemble a squad for a 'Mech ground support mission."
"Where are you going?" Ramage looked worried.
Lori didn't answer. She was already sprinting toward the Locust.
* * * *
A Guards squad had escorted Grayson across the Palace grounds and a street crowded with people to the Royal Guards headquarters building on the Hub. There were jail cells in the basement, and a platoon-strength patrol of armed and armored Guardsmen pacing the grounds outside.
As he was being led down the steps, Grayson could hear a public address system somewhere in the distance braying the news that Trellwan was now part of the glorious brotherhood of the Draconis Combine. The people were being told to disperse, to return to their homes and listen for further news on their visors. The crowds, however, showed no signs of being ready to disperse.
His cell was reasonably clean, and was furnished with a sink, toilet, bunk, chair, and table. The bare electric bulb that dangled from the cell's high ceiling cast a harsh yellow light over the thick stone walls, which were broken only by a latticework of electronically locked steel bars. Grayson knew he would not be going out that way without permission.
He sat down heavily on the bunk, feeling tiredness like a heavy pack across his shoulders. To think that Stannic was now King of Trellwan! Grayson realized that the Chief Minister must have been working toward that goal all along, with the Lancers and himself simply two more pawns in his struggle to consolidate power. Somehow, the knowledge that he had been used did not pain him so much as his regret at not being able to continue the campaign against his father's murderers. That was what grated on his soul and left him in a rage of frustration.
Word had come that Hendrik's pirates had surrendered the Castle rather than fight with the regiment of modern, well-equipped BattleMechs now disembarking at the spaceport. Even knowledge that the pirates were defeated, prisoners now, did not help. Grayson's right fist impacted with his left palm in an anguished smack. He'd wanted to take down that Marauderhimself. It didn't help to remember that not even his three light 'Mechs could have accomplished that
The more he thought about it, pacing his cell with the frantic circlings of his thoughts, the more he wondered if the situation were quite as clear-cut as it appeared. After all, the pirates could have withdrawn into the hills, perhaps forced enough of a stalemate to negotiate for better terms. And just what was going to happen to those of Hendrik's men who'd surrendered? Somehow, he didn't think they'd have surrendered so easily if they believed they were going to be shot or sold as slaves on some market world of the Combine's dominions.
The whole package seemed entirely too neat. And it was too great a coincidence that Duke Ricol should land here NOW... just NOW... of all possible times and places.
The plot was smelling larger and deeper, making Grayson wish desperately that there were some way he could check up on the Red Duke. The computers at the Castle would have the records he needed, unless Hendrik's men had done a full program dump, which was unlikely. Computer records of any kind were precious as military intelligence. Hendrik's men would be going through those records, but they wouldn't have destroyed them yet
He slapped his hand against a dank stone wall, letting the sudden stinging pain steady his mind. It did no good thinking in circles like that. He would not be able to think about checking records until he got out of here. Besides, if this whole thing WERE some kind of monstrous plot, it was very unlikely that he would ever get out again. A walk down that corridor... a pistol shot behind his ear... that was a far more likely fate for the Deliverer of Sarghad.
He thought of Mara. Just when he'd been wondering if Claydon was going to betray him, all along it had been Mara, Mara and her father. A number of puzzle pieces were coming together. The trap the night he had led 50 men against the supposedly damaged Shadow Hawk— had it been Stannic who had given the attack away, set them up to be ambushed? THAT suggested some sort of three-way tie between Duke Ricol, Stannic, and the pirates. Or had Stannic been cooperating with both pirates and Combine in order to ensure backing the winner?
And there was the destruction of Berenir's house, his death in that flaming ruin. It might have been chance, but Berenir had been speaking with Stannic moments before, telling him about Grayson. Three Royal Guards had tried to take Grayson prisoner within the hour, and Berenir's house had been singled out for attack not long after that. Perhaps Mara was the connection?
They wouldn't keep him here long, Grayson decided, not now that he had become inconvenient. That stroll down the passageway could come very soon. He slumped back down on the bunk, eyes burning, face wet with tears. Well, he had certainly managed to make a mess of things.