"Thank you, soldier."
"Begging the Lieutenant's pardon, but not all of us have ties here. I for one have no family on Trellwan, and if you're going offplanet, well, I'd like to come along."
"What's your name, soldier?"
"Manning, Lieutenant."
"You'll be more than welcome, Manning. How about the rest of you? Will you trust me in this? We can't fight a BattleMech regiment alone. Why, we wouldn't even survive in the wilderness alone for long. But if we can get offworld and reach a Commonwealth naval base, I can bring back help. Believe me, the Commonwealth doesn't want the Draconis Combine here on Trellwan!"
"The Commonwealth wasn't that interested in us when they brought Hendrik's bastards in!" came a voice from the back of the crowd.
"No, and they won't be any more interested in you now! They've got problems of their own — elsewhere. But they're damn sure not going to want the Kuritists sitting here massing their fleets and 'Mech battalions! Now... will you help me?"
There was a terrifying silence, while Grayson thought, My God, I've lost them. Then Manning waved his TK in the air. "Count me in, Lieutenant!"
Then another Militiaman stepped forward, and another. The private who'd protested that he had a family moved up, and then the cavern was ringing with the shouts and whoops of Grayson's troops. Maybe, Grayson thought, as he looked down into their shouting faces, maybe we'll be able to pull it off.
* * * *
Renfred Tor marched with fourteen men past the outer barracks and onto the apron of the spaceport field. Each of them wore the dark green and gold of Trellwan's Royal Guards.
A number of Royal Guards had joined Grayson's ragtag unit at Thunder Rift, men who'd fled the takeover when those in power began evening old quarrels with those in their own ranks. Grayson didn't fully trust them yet, and they were also the target of black looks and unpleasant grumbling from many of the Militiamen who had lost homes or family when the Guards had taken over in Sarghad. For now, the former Guardsmen were kept within the Rift, assigned to the shrunken support company, where they could be kept out of harm's way — and watched.
Their uniforms had come in handy, though, as a disguise for the men in Tor's special party. The DropShip Captain led his tiny command across the uncomfortabaly open field between the barracks and the Invidious'DropShip. There were weapons trained on the party, Tor knew. Standard operating procedure called for weapons to track any person or group approaching a grounded military ship. As they got closer, he could see the orifice-dimpled sphere of a beam turret twisting within its mount on the hull to keep them in its line-of-sight. He marched his men into the wind shelter of a supply shed several hundred meters from the ship, halted them, had them face front and stand at ease.
He hoped they looked like just another squad of Green Coats.
The Duke was using a lot of Royal Guards, both in the city and at the port. The alliance with them made sense. If Ricol could count on the men now in power in Sarghad — Stannic and his supporters — then the Duke would be free to use his entire force elsewhere. But the Lancers knew none of the passwords or codes that might now be in effect.
Their one advantage was that the situation in Sarghad was bound to be hopelessly confused at the moment, with so many changes being put into effect so quickly. It was likely that as yet there WERE no passwords or special codes. If so, they had to move now if there was to be any chance of success at all.
Clipped to his ear, Tor wore the remote earphone to the transceiver at his belt. He was conscious of the faint background hiss of the open channel, a channel that observation over the past hours had shown was not heavily used. Everything depended on the message he would get through that earphone within the next few moments.
The DropShip loomed above them, filling the sky with the massive swell of its rounded hull. For the first time, Tor got a good look at what they'd done to the vessel when they'd installed extra weapon mounts. He winced at the carelessness with which armor plate had been burned away, but knew he couldn't dwell on that now. What Tor needed to know right now was where was that bloody signal?
The Green Coats and their Kurita allies had occupied the Castle, of course, but they hadn't moved in and set up their headquarters there. That was one stroke of luck, at least. What Grayson and his men were attempting to do would have been far more difficult, perhaps impossible, if the Duke and his staff had taken over the Command Control Center. Ricol appeared to be still operating out of the DropShip, which bore the red chevron of his flag. That meant the Castle's Command Center should be deserted. Grayson was in there now, working to tap into the spaceport's computer net If he could just tell the computer network that Tor and his people were expected aboard the DropShip...
But where was his signal?
* * * *
Grayson waited in the corridor outside the Command Control Center. His Guards Lieutenant uniform had gotten him this far past gangs of men installing electronics equipment throughout the Castle. Heavy power cables snaked everywhere, and heavy beam and missile weapons were being installed at strategic points across the face and upper deck of the fort. Semiportable consoles were being hooked up in the Vehicle Bay and in a number of the Castle's larger rooms. It looked as though the Red Duke was planning on moving in to stay.
The confusion within the Castle's passageways was complete. Each party of men, each squad of soldiers seemed to have their own assigned tasks, and paid no attention at all to anyone else. No one challenged Grayson, though once a man in the red and black uniform of a Draconis captain ordered him to report to Major Kraig for a runner assignment. Grayson guessed that the Captain had been given the unwanted duty assignment first and was now passing it down to the first subordinate he saw. Grayson saluted smartly with his best Guards' salute and requested permission to complete his messenger duty... on his Lordship's business.
The Captain had muttered something unintelligible and waved him on. A junior officer looking for a way to duck an assignment would not closely question anyone — even an indig — purporting to be working for the Duke.
Grayson had reached the Command Center in good time, only to find a work detail in there. He hovered outside the open door several moments, considering what to do. There were six men inside the Center, astechs belonging to the Red Duke's 'Mech regiment, from the look of it Their leader was a full Tech wearing an armband with the black-on-red dragon of the Combine and a heavy-looking service machine pistol holstered on his hip. Considering the array of tools spread out on the floor and the way they were dismantling a communications console, it looked as though they planned to be there for a while.
Grayson walked into the Center and directly to one of the computer access consoles in the middle of the room. He kept his face impassive, worked to keep his breathing steady.
The Tech noticed him. "You! What are you doing here?"
Theoretically, of course, any command officer of any service outranked full Techs, who were generally sergeants or warrant specialists in rank. But Grayson knew enough of the way the Combine worked to realize that not even a Combine astech civilian was going to obey orders from an indig officer.
Grayson did his best to look unsure of himself— a young junior officer in the presence of his betters."Yessir! I was sent up to check out the computer net access from here. Major..." he groped for the name. "Yes! Major Kraig wants to know if there was any damage to the banks."
The Tech scowled. "That was all checked out two days ago."
"I don't know about that, sir. I have my orders..."
"Why would the Major put an indig greenie like you on the job? What do YOU know about Commonwealth computers?"
He pulled himself up with what he hoped looked like pride. "I was on the astech force that helped set them up, sir. That's why the Major wanted me to come down here."