"Janice!" Then the darkness exploded in flame and thunder, and he had no time to think about anything more at all.
35
Governor-General Nagumo heard the dull, hollow boom and briefly wondered if someone had dropped a heavy section of armor in the maintenance area across the courtyard. Then the piercing ululation of the emergency siren keened warning of attack.
A light flashed at his interrcom. He stabbed the accept switch. "What is it?"
'This is Gordoyev, my Lord, Captain of the Guard!" There was no picture with the voice, which was pitched high with shock or fear. "I'm on Level Two and...and...rebel troops. General, in the lower levels! They're pouring through a hole blasted through from an abandoned tunnel!"
"You have a guard. Use it!"
"Yes, my Lord! We'll hold them as long as we can, but...”
“But what?"
"My Lord, there are hundreds of them down here! We need reinforcements!"
"Help is coming. Hold where you are!"
He opened a channel to the barracks and found that the alert had already roused the city's garrison commanders. Between elements of four infantry regiments, there were close to two thousand Kurita troops in Regis, not counting the unreliable Regis Blues. He did not for a moment believe Gordoyev's assessment of "hundreds of troops", but it was always better to overreact to such a threat than to respond with half-measures. He relayed orders to the Third Strike Regiment. Companies A and B were both just outside the University, stationed in the streets of central Regis. They would be in the courtyard in moments.
What could be the purpose of this raid...for a raid was all it possibly could be. It was inconceivable that a large enemy force could worm its way into the University grounds through whatever forgotten gateway or tunnel they might have found. It must be a small force, probably a highly trained commando unit with some specific target.
Target? He pulled at his lip, the fingers trembling ever so slightly. The rebels could well be after him, the Governor General. His death would not mean the end of Kurita rule on Verthandi, of course, but it would mean that that idiot Kodo would take command. If the rebels knew about the Kurita chain of command on this world, they might believe having Admiral Kodo in charge would give them a better chance at some planned coup or assault.
He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a small, deadly Sunbeam-Electric laser pistol, checked its power pack, and tucked it into the waistband of his uniform. Then he opened another channel on the intercom and summoned his personal guard.
* * * *
Grayson stepped across the sprawled, wide-eyed body of a blue-clad Loyalist trooper, checked the man's belt and pouches for keys or security devices, then moved with light-footed haste further into the warren of passageways ahead. He was under the main University Tower now, he knew. The descriptions provided him by Regis Blue deserters and liberated Verthandian prisoners were proving accurate so far.
Gunshots and explosions echoed behind him. According to plan, forty of the commandos were launching their attack on the enemy's BattleMech maintenance area, not far from where the forgotten tunnel opened into the courtyard.
Outside the University walls, the Gray Death ‘Mechs would be moving toward the Ericksson-Agro factory, firing at anything that moved along the walls above them, and preparing to take up defensive positions to cover the retreat of the raiders when they reappeared from the tunnel.
Those two distractions ought to keep the Dracos and their Verthandian allies quite busy, for a few minutes anyway. Grayson and the ten remaining commandos had penetrated the underground levels of the central University Tower. Those levels were a maze of interconnecting rooms and passageways that the Dracos had converted from storage of records and supplies. The eleven had separated and spread out to better their chances of finding Lori quickly. Grayson was alone.
He hurried on through the semi-darkness, following courses drawn and redrawn countless times on paper and in his head since he'd learned them people who had already travelled these corridors. The cells for special prisoners were supposed to be down one level and to the right. The stairway down ought to be...there!
A man in a blue uniform appeared, a heavy automatic rifle slung across his shoulder. Grayson brought up his TK and fought the bucking, flashing muzzle as high-speed 3 mm slivers burned through the air to shred cloth and flesh in a fine mist of blood. The soldier was kicked up and back, then plunged headfirst down the stairs behind him with an unholy clatter of equipment and weapon. Grayson followed a moment later, somewhat more quietly.
The lower passageway was well-lit and mercifully deserted. He shoved his IR goggles back on his head and checked the soldier's body. A small, black rectangle—a plastic security card—rested inside a breast pocket. Grayson retrieved it, then straightened, glancing about. That way!
He found the cell doors, but there was no way of knowing who was in which cell. He picked the first door he came to, inserted the plastic card into a slot in an otherwise featureless box mounted on the stone wall beside the entrance, and stepped back as the door slid open. Inside the narrow, stone-walled cell was a woman, but his initial surge of elation faded when he realized it was not Lori.
She blinked against the sudden light. "Who...are you?"
"Cavalry to the rescue," Grayson said lightly. Where was Lori being held? "Quick! Come out of there!"
The woman stumbled out into the passageway. Grayson was already at the next cell, fumbling with the card. That room held ten Verthandians, one-time students or teachers crowded into a three by four meter space stinking of sweat, excrement, and fear. The next cell held the same...and the next...and the next.
A pair of soldiers in Kurita uniforms interrupted Grayson as he opened the cell after that. Someone yelled warning, and Grayson twisted his TK up and chopped the pair down before they could unholster their weapons. Their uniforms yielded two more security cards and weapons for two of the newly freed prisoners.
With a small army unexpectedly on his hands, Grayson had to take time to organize them. He sent one party off with one of the guards' pistols to search for more weapons. The body by the stairway would yield at least one automatic rifle, and there were bound to be weapons lockers elsewhere in this warren. The rest of the ex-prisoners he divided into two groups, gave a security card to each group, and sent them in opposite directions with orders to open every cell they came to. The Verthandians scattered amid shouts and ragged cheers. Grayson thought to warn them to remain quiet, then decided there was no use. A fierce determination seemed to have seized every one of those dirty, ragged men and women, a determination to close with their Kurita captors and settle some longstanding scores.
Confusion was spreading throughout the lower levels. The other commandos were finding and releasing prisoners as well. Soon, these levels and those above would be filled with freed Verthandians looking for Kurita blood.
He skidded to a stop, his rifle up. The shadow he'd seen moving up ahead resolved itself into the black-clad form of another commando.
He recognized her. "Sue Ellen! What the hell are youdoing here?" He was aware of the odd light in her eyes, aware that the sight of these corridors must be bringing back memories of horror. He'd not known that she was among the ten who had volunteered to come down into these chambers. He'd thought she was with Ramage, on the surface.
She laughed, an unpleasant sound. "Still worried about me, Captain?"
He shook his head, ashamed of the lie. "Have you found anything yet?"
"No. I don't think she's here."